Red Sleep

Red and Eucaliptus InbarAsif

Photo: Inbar Asif

 

He lay himself

Bare

On the ground.

Stripped into

A fraction of his

Former self, yet

In his memory

A giant

Still,

And let the blanket of

Red

Caress him

Through to the

Other side of life,

And into the

Eternal

Sleep.

 

 

 

For the dVerse poetry challenge: red

 

 

 

Scale Things Down

giant-plug Crispina Kemp

Photo: Crispina Kemp

 

“We’re gonna have to scale things down,” The Earl noted.

“Yep,” Monterey scratched the stubble that sprouted, stubborn, on his chest. He was going to refuse the grooming nonsense next time.

“Got the shrink?”

Monterey nodded. He’d put up with the thumping for the last bit of journey. Annoying though it was, the noise did save him the trouble of going into the back compartment to check whether the cargo was still alive.

“Have him at it, then.” The Earl turned and strode back into his cab.

Monterey waited till The Earl disappeared from view before bending to rummage through the vehicle’s boot. He plucked the squirming figure out of its perforated container and held the furious man between finger and thumb.

“You’re a shrink,” he rumbled, pointing another hand at the air-ship’s anchor and chains. “These are too big. Can’t have’em stay this way. So you best shrink this.”

 

 

 

For Crispina’s Crimson’s Creative Challenge

 

 

Night Walker

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Photo: Martin Adams on Unsplash

 

She’d appear out of her bed

As if in dream.

An apparition in their kitchen.

A small figure levitating up the stairs

From the nursery,

A flannel nightgown sweeping over the cold floor

And her bare feet.

They might’ve wondered

Why she had become

A somnambulist,

Had they not needed to keep

Any odd thing

Completely clandestine.

So they latched the front door

High,

And kept the very secret

Of her night-walking

Under the covers

Of unspoken sleep.

 

 

 

For the Weekend Writing Prompt: Somnambulist in 78 words

 

 

A Bit Of Stir

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Photo: Mads Schmidt Rasmussen on Unsplash

 

She was always one to cause

Quite a bit of stir

In every entrance,

In the very way the air around

Her every move

Would shift

To agitated waiting,

For something breathless

That was not easily worded

Yet nonetheless remained

Indelibly perceived as

Inescapable.

 

 

For the dVerse quadrille poetry challenge: stir

 

Them Poor Bushes

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Photo: Burst on Unsplash

 

She figures it would be okay.

She figures it would do.

She’ll find her schedule and get back,

Within a month or two.

She figures she could do the task.

She figures it is fine.

She’d done a thing like that before,

Not quite, but in outline.

Still, she figures it a breeze.

She figures she’d succeed.

Even when history, at best,

Is wondering if indeed.

She figures this, she figures that

In neutral all her wheels,

And it becomes impossible

To not begin to feel,

That maybe it’d be easier

To let them bushes be

They’re beat from hedging here and there

And wishing they could flee!

 

 

Note: This was really just for fun and isn’t about (ahem) anyone … So similarity to any individual is (sort of) coincidental … 😉 Dedicated to all the ‘he’ and ‘she’ and ‘you’ and ‘they,’ who won’t say yea and won’t say nay, and leave us all in limbo every day …

For Linda Hill’s SoCS challenge: figure

 

 

I Will Wait

three line tales, week 214: woman standing in dilapidated building

Photo by Jorge Flores via Unsplash

 

“I will wait for you,” she said. “Even in cold ruined places where wind blows in the refuse of the city and where more is broken than is whole. I’ll wait, so you can know I’m here when you are finally permitted to come home.”

 

 

For Three Line Tales #214

 

 

Readied

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Photo: Nicolas Lobos on Unsplash

 

They donned the new suits

Of exploration

White and fluid for

The deep cold of space

And the vast darkness

Of the Universe.

 

They filed into the

Craft readied to blast

Toward a red Mars

Carrying hope for

Yet another home

In which to draw breath.

 

For the dVerse Haibun poetry challenge: Mars

 

Epoch’s End

sunset Ramon Crater AmitaiAsif

Photo: Amitai Asif

 

As her eyes finally

Closed

And her breath

Not returned,

She knew

What awaited her

Just

‘Round the bend:

A new journey

Ascends

Life beyond

Epoch’s end.

 

 

 

For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Epoch in 27 words

Note: Dedicated to all who face the final journey … and thus to all … for we all would. May we walk life’s path the way we can and should.

 

Aftereffect

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Photo: Arnaud Jaegers on Unsplash

 

It does not do to elect

Only those who self-select.

Because it is best to object

To any who hold no respect

For others’ ability to reflect

On the facts in each subject.

For if we fail now to protect

The need of everyone to connect

And the necessity to detect

Those who humanity eject,

We might injustice reinfect

And cement moral defect

As the greedy now expect

Blind loyalty by genuflect.

 

 

 

For Linda Hill’s SoCS writing prompt: “ect”