(Photo: Emilie Dwire on Unsplash)
She was never big on plans.
It drove her parents mad, but her impromptu projects did turn out well more times than they did bad.
So they said nothing when she began digging a hole in the backyard.
And weren’t sad
When gold was found
Amidst the sand.
For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Impromptu in 48 words
(Photo: Jordan Ladikos on Unsplash)
I am NOT,
She insisted,
Capricious
Or blind.
I am bold.
I am loud.
I am the life of
The crowd.
I speak up.
I won’t hush.
My decisions
May clash.
My opinions indeed
Tend to
Unwind,
And it’s true that
I’m good at
Changing
My mind.
But I am not,
(At this moment)
Arbitrarily
Inclined.
For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: capricious in 55 words
(Photo: Circe Denyer on Unsplash)
Laid-back Lizzie
Would not be pressed
Into a tizzy.
She left herself
With ample
Time,
To saunter to and
From her
Crime.
She kept pace
When sirens blared
And ambled on
As others stared.
She did not hold
With running
Fast.
But strolling was what
Caught up with her
At last.
For Sammy’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Saunter in 51 words
(Photo: Andre Hunter on Unsplash)
She was Mary
Quite contrary.
She refused to read what others wrote
And claimed all facts are anecdotes,
And when food was on her plate
She’d allow it to stagnate,
And then predictably complain
That she was made to abstain.
Any piece of news she heard
She declared to be absurd,
And if science dared be presented
She turned extra discontented.
For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Absurd in 61 words
Photo: Amotz Barlev
When the sunlight ends early
And twilight follows
Close,
Grab a book and dive into vast
Worlds where anything
Goes.
Immerse yourself into the realms
Where magic is the
Norm
And ride the wings of imagery
All night into the
Morn.
Note: I just had to share (with permission, of course) the absolute delight of this photo of my grand-niece and grand-nephews so utterly absorbed in their books. A bookworm myself, I’ve spent many an evening immersed in reading. Still do. It shaped my life. This gift that keeps on giving offers riches that all the money in the world cannot, and I am so so heartened to see it in children. I hope you read. I hope you read to your children. Your children may well follow your lead, and love of reading is a ‘bug’ well worth ‘catching.’
(Photo Michal Balog on Unsplash)
She couldn’t have been clearer.
She couldn’t have been more firm.
Still he chose to disregard and
Pretend it wasn’t him.
She told him to pack his stuff.
She told him he must leave.
Still he chose to linger and
Refused to cleave.
For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Lucid in 43 words
Photo: Peter Oslanec on Unsplash
The voice of song
Lulled her to sleep
As wind whispered
Leaves into heaps.
Her mind soared on
A night’s journey’s sweep
As breathing slowed
And memories steeped.
Her body warm neath
Blankets soft and deep,
She sighed and found
A dream to keep.
For the dVerse poetry quadrille challenge: blanket
(Photo: Krisffer Aeviel Cabral on Unsplash)
He copied how his father walked.
He mimicked his older sister.
He laughed at jokes nobody heard.
He scared the babysitter.
He wouldn’t do a thing
That wasn’t done by others.
He was an endless mirror
And annoyance to his brothers.
He drove them all to near insane
Till finally came the time
When he left to get
Hired as a mime.
For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Zany in 62 words
Photo: Brendan Church on Unsplash
Tim had a serious thing
For
Ice cream.
No matter the flavor
It was something
He’d favor.
His mama thought it
Extreme
To hold a lone food
Supreme,
So she came up with
A scheme
That worked wonders on
Tim:
Every new food she’d
Mix right into the
Ice cream.
So she fixed it with okra
And kale
And some beans,
And added an olive
And handfuls of
Greens,
And for his dessert
Even mashed in
Sardines.
And the boy ate the lot
Smiling full to the
Brim.
It was not until college
He caught on to the
Theme.
Photo: Na’ama Yehuda
“You see those?”
“I sure do.”
“Well, that’s where they’d come through.”
“Don’t think I believe you.”
“Well then, just wait and see.”
“Until when would that be?”
“Sometimes ‘tween two and three.”
“What? Are you kidding me!?”
“It’s the city, my friend
And this is not West End …
Alligators won’t poke their head
Till the green light’s delayed.
Sure, they value the park,
The reservoir in the dark,
And the nice scratchy spark
From a bit of tree bark …
But you’d agree it is best
To let most traffic rest
‘Fore you poke scaly breasts
Onto Central Park West.”
For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers – Thanks for picking my photo of my ‘hood’!
And for those who want more … about this snippet of lore about Alligators living in the tunnels underneath the city … click on the ‘gator below …
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