Tag Archives: #p0eticlicense

Rainy Reflections…

My soul loves the rain:

It seems dreamy and poetic.

Fog rolling in after love departs

Is such a perfect metaphor

To describe a dismal day

And a lonely, broken heart.

But my head dreads the storms,

Which trigger loads of pain–

Not of the romantic variety,

But actual pounding migraines.

Blustery winds stir up debris,

And dust swirls through the air;

I want to celebrate thunder

But feel nothing but despair.

Yet, when pressure subsides,

And the world sparkles clean,

I adore rain once more…

My equilibrium restored.

~*~

Reflections Prompt

Thursday Inspiration

Thursday Inspiration 4

Welcome to Thursday Inspiration! This is my weekly prompt post and hopefully it will inspire you to write something creative, perhaps a poem or a piece of flash fiction. If you’d like to share your writing with the community, please indulge me and tag your post with #p0eticlicense and/or #lightm0tifs, and of course link back if you wish. I will try to visit everyone who participates. 🙂

This week’s theme is rain and the picture is below. Here is the song snippet from “Drops of Jupiter” by Train:

Now that she’s back in the atmosphere
With drops of Jupiter in her hair
She acts like summer and walks like rain
Reminds me that there’s time to change

Photo credit: Daniel Borker

Mosaic

Digging for fossils

In the desert ditch…

After bagging bits of bone,

They unearthed a tile.

A glazing on slate,

This was an intricate design;

The scientists gazed in silence

At the elaborate pattern.

What could it mean?

Arguing commenced:

People of that time

Didn’t possess the tools

To create such a plate.

Then someone noticed

Inside each circle

Of this delicate treasure

Was a shark’s tooth.

Robert Peake’s Poetry Prompt

Echoes

One mournful lovesong

Howled to star-spattered heavens

Echoes through the night

~*~

Thursday Inspiration

Seagull [TLT]

I watched you as you walked away, that cold grey rainy foggy day.

You didn’t even turn and wave, as your footsteps faded from this hollow place.

Then a ray of sun cut through the mist and one seagull came swooping in; underneath her wings the sea began to sparkle brightly once again.

~*~

Three Line Tales 171

Thursday Inspiration 3

Welcome to Thursday Inspiration! This is my weekly prompt post and hopefully it will inspire you to write something creative, perhaps a poem or a piece of flash fiction. If you’d like to share your writing with the community, please indulge me and tag your post with #p0eticlicense and/or #lightm0tifs, and of course link back if you wish. I will try to visit everyone who participates. 🙂

This week’s theme is stars and the picture is below. Here is the song snippet from “I Don’t Wanna Talk About It” by Rod Stewart:

I can tell by your eyes that you’ve prob’bly been cryin’ forever,
And the stars in the sky don’t mean nothin’ to you, they’re a mirror.

Photo credit: Kristendawn

Meet Me in Brea

I had so much to say
About yesterday’s pain–
Vaguely familiar names,
The streets, the café.
I walked where we talked;
“Meet me in Brea!”
Memory-dazed,
I felt the shame,
Looking for a trace
Of recognition
Or benediction
In a strange face,
A flash of a gaze.

I walked off your words,
Until the echoes
Around my brain
(“Meet me in Brea”)
Faded to grey;
Twice, thrice, past that café,
The cupcake place,
The theater…
All ceased to matter.
It was just another city.
Meetmeinbrea:
Chant the sounds,
Like a prayer.

Amen.

Yarn [flash 172]

Sterling Q. Posh IV waited next to the fish tank at the library for his date. Her name was Skye Raine and he didn’t think they were a match, but the dating site had given them a score of 99.9, and Sterling didn’t argue with numbers. Oh, here she was… finally.

“Hi!” Skye said. “Have you been waiting long? Ooh, hello fishies!”

“Twenty-three minutes,” Sterling said. “I like your poncho. It’s quite… colorful.”

“Thanks!” She twirled around so he could see the poncho in its full glory. “I made it myself. Some of the stitches on this were difficult, but I was very tenacious.”

“May I be forthright?” Sterling asked.

“Of course.”

He leaned in close and whispered. “I also enjoy crocheting. And knitting too. In fact, there’s nothing better than an evening in with a bowl of buttered noodles, a detective show on TV, and my basket of yarn. Except of course someone to share those pleasures with.”

Skye clapped her hands with glee. “Me too! This must be fate!”

Shadow World

Deep below the glassy shine

Of the calm still moonlit river night,

A fissure exposes a rift in time.

Shapes emerge, twist and rise–

Are they old souls come back to repent,

Or future selves with dire warning sent?

~*~

Thursday Inspiration: Shadows

Backstory

Alt title: Why Use One Word When 700 Are Available?

I wrote a prose poem about “who I am” that was really “where I’m from” a long time ago for a prompt, though I’m not sure if we called them prompts then. It might have been on Usenet, which we used to deride as a sewer, before every other form of social media became awful too. (I still think blogs are the best of the bunch.) The poem was short and not that deep, but then I pulled it up again and fleshed it out for another venue.

I’ve been thinking about Rory’s question (“who are you really?”). It’s a pretty easy question for most people to answer superficially. We generally give answers about who we are in relationship to other people. I’m a mom. I’m a wife, or not. I’m a good friend of so & so, a loyal employee of XYZ Company, yada. We’re plotting our position on axes of family and work, then friendships, maybe next our relationship to interests. I’m a fan of such and such sports team, rah! Or I love to garden, knit, read, write, pull the tails off little blind mice. Whatever.

We tell the world who we are in this multi-dimensional GPS system. Locate me here, in this spot: mom, ex-wife, legal secretary, poet, cat lover, Game of Thrones fan. This is me, right here. What if there are other humans occupying that position? I might have to refine it further. But does this actually even answer the question? Does this explain who I am? Do you know me from these factoids? Could you tell someone about the essence of me from my GPS position?

The other week I was playing a board game with some good friends I’ve known for a long time. It was called ImaginiFF. A question came up: “ImaginiFF Paula were a movie. Which movie would she be?” There were 5 random movies and then Doctor Zhivago, which was obviously correct in my mind for a variety of reasons. Everyone chose it, and this surprised me. I wouldn’t have expected them to know. But they did. And this made me unreasonably happy because most of the time I think people don’t even understand me at all, not even people to whom I’m closest. But I don’t think you would get the correct movie from a bunch of disparate facts about me; you’d have to spend years orbiting my weirdness.

Anyway, here is my GPS poem about who I am via where I’m from. I take the long way around.

Backstory

I am from the Big Apple, take a bite, glitter lights, lemon ice, museums, zoos, art and news, Coney Island hot dogs, Jones Beach sandy sweets, sharp shells stab soft carpet feet.

I am from the place where you pull the blinds, someone’s looking, where you smell your neighbor’s curry cooking, he makes you sweet tea with cardamom, next day Jamaican barbecue mon, the Filipinos have one record, sugar sugar aw honey honey, your father brings home Saturday pastries from the German bakery, “schwartzwalder kirschetorte,” it sounds funny, say it again, and the Japanese girl doesn’t know your words but can show you how to fold paper squares into gentle birds.

I am from the thorny Jersey berry bushes, blackpurple bursts against tanned sunfingers, slipping stones in backyard creek, crick, algae slick, willow fronds sweep redwood table pirate ship, hopscotch sidewalks toss a chip, Sunday French toast sausage brunch, leaves turning orangecrunch, rubber masks hiding smiles fake, the quickmelt of perfect crystal snowflakes.

I am from big city and small town, remain unclaimed, cheer for no team, believe in no crown, blood flows only down, I look out to starless airless zerodark, time past seems tissue-thin, walk back in, an afternoon of bubble toys, uncaring joy, turquoise dresses rhinestone sunlight, just once, golden flash, one more pass, because I am from a yard of girls with summerdrip popsicles, before the apple, before the crash.

I am from disconnect and strife, feudglue of life, mashed crookedly together, a puzzle I failed to see until I broke apart, alone, jagged on my own, and now I know why people stay, bicker low and graceless, get physical redangry splashwine in faces, because they can’t bear the abyss, yes, I missed, I get it all now, too late.

~*~