Conclusively Lucid

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(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

 

Tucked In

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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

 

 

Zany Blayney

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(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

 

 

 

Ice Cream Tim

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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.

 

 

 

For RDP Sunday: Ice Cream

 

 

City Witty

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 …

In Their Skin

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Photo: Keith Luke on Unsplash

 

Eons had passed

Since when they had

Their skins

Stolen

By man.

 

They learned to love

The life they had

Yet dreams

Cried hope

Aground.

 

Till secrets told

By men at night

Got heard

And sang

Around.

 

And off they went

The selkie all

Safe in

Their skin,

Unbound.

 

 

For the dVerse poetry challenge: Selkie

 

 

Gallivanting Gary

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Photo: Noah Austin on Unsplash

 

Gallivanting Gary liked to roam about

In town.

He refused to let a passing hardship weigh

Him down.

He took his time to get things done.

He rambled on and on.

But once the dinner bell at home was rang

He’d lift his feet

And run.

 

 

 

For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Gallivant in 46 words

 

 

The Reporter

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Photo: Sven Brandsma on Unsplash

 

He reports first thing in the morning.

He reports again every night.

There’s little that could dissuade him

From being absolutely forthright.

 

He records every scene with a flourish.

His voice reflects every sight,

As with journalist’s flair

He spells data in ample delight.

 

He would not be distracted from telling,

The minutia has got to be tight.

After all, he is in potty training

And to him no discharging is trite.

 

 

 

For RDP Sunday: Journalist

 

 

Silly Billy

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Photo: Smadar Epshtein

 

Silly Billy was too chilly

So he too a little nap.

Silly Billy did not really

Think it would cause him mishap.

 

Frilly Tilly woke him shrilly

And with very little slack,

Sent him home and told poor Billy

That he isn’t welcome back.

 

 

 

 

For the dVerse poetry quadrille challenge: silly

Note: I find this photo too delightful to use only once… So if you think you’d seen it before, you are not imagining things …  🙂

 

Frazzle Dazzle

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Photo: Smadar Epshtein

 

She refused to stop her fretting.

He could not get her

To relax.

She was adamant the world

Was ending,

That they were about to breathe

Their last.

Nothing he did could

Distract her.

Not the honey.

Not the charm.

She was frazzled,

And he should have known

To not try

Bedazzling

To disarm.

 

 

 

For RDP Sunday: Frazzled