Then You will Understand

#319

sleep on a journey
then you will understand my poem
Autumn winds

 

Yes. Travel, even local travel will reveal so much to you. PS this is a cellphone picture. The app has gotten better about letting me use pictures from my cell and then editing from the desktop.

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Vivid Haiku

 

painting a landscape
trying to get the flowers right
vivid dreamscape

6-16-18

 

This haiku was written for prompts from #haikuchallenge #dimpleverse found on Twitter. Where do you find your prompts? Do you ever write or paint what you saw in a dream? Do you ever use an account like the ones on Twitter?

watercolor,art,creating,

FF | Heirloom

Friday Fictioneers is a group of bloggers who write 100-word stories after being inspired by a photo posted to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields blog. We are allowed to use the photo in our post and encouraged to leave each other comments. I write my story before I read any of the other writers’ creations, although I do often read Rochelle’s post before I write mine since it is right under the photo of the week. This week’s story is 99-words long.

wooden clock

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

  Heirloom

Mia knew the stories well. The clock had been made from a tree on grandpa’s island. He had spent a month carving it. They were never to touch it because it was a family heirloom. Mia used to listen to these stories with wonderment in her eyes. But now as a teenager she just nodded her head, waiting for the story to be over. Her mother thought that she was going through a phase. Mia knew her mother believed the stories, and didn’t have the heart to tell her that she had found a Pier 1 sticker on the back.

 

With Nothing To Cling To

#305

in the middle of a field
with nothing to cling to
a skylark sings

 
What a neat visual. The birds have to trust their wings. 

black birds,birds against morning sky,flock of birds,

Little Tree Haiku

little trees change first
excited for a new season
Halloween shopping

9-12-17

 

The trees are just starting to change in my neck of the woods. Halloween stores are opening and it’s starting to feel like fall even though it is still technically summer. How’s it look and feel where you’re at?

IMG_4685

FF | Full Moon

Friday Fictioneers is a group of bloggers who write 100-word stories after being inspired by a photo posted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. We are allowed to use the photo in our post and encouraged to leave each other comments. I write my story before I read any of the other writers’ creations, although I do often read Rochelle’s post before I write mine since it is right under the photo of the week. This week’s story is 98-words long.

photo prompt,full moon glowing,

PHOTO PROMPT © Gah Learner

  Full Moon

Esmeralda looked out the window for the 20th time. The moon was rising and it was full. Her sister Lolita and her boyfriend should be here at any moment. They were supposed to have a nice family dinner. The boyfriend was supposed to be a gentleman but was actually a lying alcoholic. He had swindled $10,000 out of Lolita so far. But she would be his last victim. He had unknowingly lied to a lycanthrope. While Lolita could not transform into a wolf, her protective little sister Esmeralda could, and did, when men needed to be disposed of.

Walking in Haiku with Basho

#272

full moon
walking around the pond
all night

 

I really like this one. Who hasn’t tossed and turned and felt like they’ve walked for miles instead of laying in bed? 

big trees and little pond cows

September is Sad

  Aging
crumpled post-it note
the first of my classmates dies
a shock to us all
I forget how to spell her last name
it seems all our names have changed

9-8-2016
RIP Ellen Doherty

 

It has been two years since the first of my friends, the first of my classmates has died. I know that I’ve been blessed, but it is still crazy to think that we have already lost a friend. She didn’t make it to 30. September is a sad month for me, I have had a lot of people die during this month. I seriously relate to that song “Wake me up when September ends.”

purslane flower,rose moss with white blooms,tiny flowers,small white flower,

Closer to the Root

#270

falling to the ground
a flower closer to the root
bidding farewell

 

This was written when Basho was mourning the death of priest Tando.

angel statue in flower bed

Tanka for the Journey

   Journeying

rusted tracks
my journey rerouted again
learning to enjoy
sunshine wherever I am
letting God be my conductor

6-16-18

To go along with yesterday’s haiku, here is a tanka about learning to enjoy where you’re at. This is my most recent tanka. Have you learned to enjoy the detours and reroutes in life?

trains in kc mo, railway cars,box cars,train track,

Woodpecker’s Song

redheaded woodpecker

woodpecker’s song
the sound we forget he can make
finding my voice

5-6-18

 

I use this blog to help me find my voice. I wrote a piece of flash fiction yesterday, the first in six months. I stopped trying to write happy just because some people don’t like dark. I stopped worrying about if my piece would feel redundant because I have written about aliens before, I just wrote. And people liked it and I got something new written. I think I may be a sci-fi writer when it comes to flash fiction, and I prefer short verse in poetry. Yes, I can write in other ways and genres if I push myself, but I am finding where I am comfortable and trying to enjoy those spaces.

Homage| Friday Fictioneers

Friday Fictioneers is a group of bloggers who write 100-word stories after being inspired by a photo prompt posted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. It is not a closed group; you can join in! Click on Rochelle’s name and you’ll find the details there.

We are allowed to use the photo (taken by another FriFic writer) in our post and encouraged to leave each other comments. I write my story before I read any of the other writers’ creations. This week’s short story is 98-words long.

festival

PHOTO PROMPT © Carla Bicomong

Homage 

The adults set the lanterns of appreciation afloat on the sea. Several stopped to take pictures, knowing that getting a picture for their children is what convinced the children to stay home. They all remembered the 1st and 2nd year of tribute when the Dorri were not pleased with the lanterns. Several whole families had been vaporized into dust. It was now the 12th year of occupation and they had learned almost every piece of the alien race’s culture. They wanted to be treated like Gods, and as long as they only wanted paper for sacrifice, they would be.