Image: SkittersPhotos at Pixabay.com
Three blinks.
Wait and see if she is home.
A blink back and I’m home and hosed.
It’s a tough way to run an affair,
But its magic when it happens.
Who’d a thought this old collection of skin and bones
still had life in it.
So hurry dear lady
I’d hate to start without you. (264) characters)
Written for: https://katmyrman.com/2017/11/14/twittering-tales-58-14-november-2017/
Image: t1na.deviantart.com
The tiny girl walks to the piano
The auditorium packed, expectant,
She sits and is momentarily lost in the vastness of the space.
With the first note
We are mesmerised,
Glued to our seats.
The magic rolls out before us
As she sets the heavens alight.
From her fingers are the sounds only angels emit.
I glance at my program and read once again those final words:
“My abusers, I know who you are
My music names each one of you
Listen for your names to ring out.”
As she plays several audience squirm
Ties are loosened,
Brows mopped
The uneasiness in the midst of divine revelation
Cuts the air, but no one moves.
The music from the tiny girl
Is spellbinding.
Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2017/11/14/photo-challenge-188/
This week’s words to play with:
calyx [the sepals of a flower, typically forming a whorl that encloses the petals and forms a protective layer around a flower in bud|a cup-like cavity or structure, in particular|a portion of the pelvis of a mammalian kidney|the cavity in a calcareous coral skeleton that surrounds the polyp|the plated body of a crinoid, excluding the stalk and arms] obscure solicit lurid box-cutter [a thin, inexpensive razor-blade knife designed to open cardboard boxes] suede gloves dilettante [a person who cultivates an area of interest, such as the arts, without real commitment or knowledge] glisten espionage drop box [(in weaving) a box situated on either side of the race plate of the loom that is designed to hold shuttles and to bring bobbins of colored thread in line as desired|a secured receptacle into which items such as returned books or videotapes, payments, keys, or donated clothing can be deposited] whisper bounty
Calister, the gardener, arrived promptly each Thursday. He didn’t say much but mowed, pruned, edged, swept and raked and generally made the place look sensational.
He worked hard and each week took home a calyx of petals from the ones he’d pruned. His wife mixed them in with the salad and if nothing else the laxative effect provided evidence of their slim figures.
He did such a fine job his business thrived and at the same time generated a degree of professional jealousy.
His opposition in the gardening business was Parkinson, a man who bragged of his gardening ability, who wore suede gloves and who left lurid notes in Calister’s client’s letterboxes claiming he could do a far better job and for less.
His soliciting did work on some but not on us. We knew that he was nothing more than a dilettante evidenced by the job he did on the Avery’s garden where it was clear he had used a box-cutter on their prize roses, claiming they needed a good prune anyway.
Everything that glistens is not gold I heard Calister say to my father as they stood admiring the roses in our garden.
Calister liked working in our garden as we had some obscure varieties of plants and there had been whispers that Parkinson had put a bounty out for anyone who might be able to acquire, by whatever means, seed from some of our plants. Parkinson hinted he had a drop box should anyone want to make a quick dollar by leaving the seeds for him.
But Calister was quick to diffuse such a whisper as espionage was a favourite pastime of his and he conducted some counter-espionage of his own resulting in Parkinson suffering a very severe gastric issue after touching a seed variety Calister had left in his drop-box.
Calister smiled as he told my father and made sure we all pulled on our suede gloves before touching anything.
Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2017/11/13/wordle-178/
Each Wednesday is a quiet blogging day for me so I am going to post a photo or two I took today and write a short story/explanation about it.
You are welcome to join in and share your Wednesday shots as well.
It could be something you see when you get out of bed.
Your own bleary-eyed face could be included though I know mine could be troubling to some and be not necessarily a good way to start your day.
The shot can be of anything you saw during the day.
Good or bad doesn’t matter as you’ll see with many of my efforts.
I would like you to tell me the story about your photo and its backstory if it has one. Try and restrict your enthusiasm to tell me to 100 words.
When I was working one of my students did a performance piece about a woman who loved cacti. To help with the performance, I bought her a small cactus. It had a resemblance to something phallic and so became known as the penis cactus. Its the smaller protuberance you see next to the larger green cacti….the naming had nothing to do with a reflection on me I can assure you…I think….since then it has flourished with neglect in my garden.
Wonderful piece of writing
So I promised I’d share one of the stories (very short stories) from my memoir course. I have an idea that in time I’ll write a series of short stories covering the many different events in my life to date and put them all together into one book. Some will be challenging, others funny but all will have a tale to tell.
Some of you will already be aware of this particular story, but here it is again with a little polish applied.
I hope you enjoy it. As of yet it has no title.
In my bedroom is a treasure chest. It isn’t overflowing with jewellery and gold, 
nor in fact is it even a chest, but its contents are priceless.
This treasure chest of mine is in reality, an old zip locked, black leather writing wallet, bulging at the seams. Nothing interesting about its cover would catch the…
View original post 1,204 more words
For the Love of Absurdity
I had a cat once, then who hasn’t?
But mine was odd, or you might say normal,
It ate choc chip biscuits
While sitting on the lounge
Dressed always in its favourite onesie.
I did at times question why
But the cat would stop purring
Give me its evil eye
Munch its teeth into another choc chip
and settle back further into the lounge chair.
I tried it with a scratching pole
But it said it was far too cold
Then I enticed it with a rubber mouse
But it spat and said wake up you idiot
I’m not a cat given over to bribes
You better get more of these choc chip munchies.
It would sit after eating in resplendent delight
Licking the crumbs from off its vast front
Telling me, I’d best behave as it had the power
Believe it or not
To send me out to the yard in the dark.
So, the cat and I learned to respect the others space
I bought it biscuits, it cleaned its face
It wore the aqua onesie from February till November
Then sported a festive one with great big claws.
Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2017/11/12/sunday-writing-prompt-228-its-all-in-the-title/
This week’s first line:
“He’s terrified of small spaces, didn’t you know?”
It was obvious there was something wrong when they opened the door and saw him there, tears running down his cheek, huddled in the far corner of the broom closet.
The search had taken hours, and no one had looked in the closet thinking he had last been seen outside, and that was where he mostly likely would be found.
When they pulled him from the small space, he clutched at his mother, his arms around her as if never to let her go.
Then his story unfolded. The kids from across town had been bullying him for some time and had caught him in the backyard. They held him down, and one of them had said he knew the boy was afraid of small spaces. They thought up the plan to lock him in the broom closet, and even though he kicked and screamed as they dragged him there, they were more intent on indulging in the boys panic than listening to anything he said. They just didn’t care, they didn’t think, the kid was a wuss, and they were going to assert their strength and might over him.
After they left him there and secured the door, he did try to get out, but it was of no use. He tried to call for help but his fears overcame him, and all he could do was crawl into the far corner of the closet and hope help would arrive.
He could hear people outside calling his name, and he tried so hard to call back, but he was mute in response.
In the end, he discovered he could kick at the door, and this ultimately alerted his searchers to the closet.
His parents took him into their arms and were grateful to have their son back and aware they now had to work to quell the fears he would have triggered more often than ever before.
Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2017/11/10/first-line-friday-november-10th-2017/
Our words this week are:
– broad and narrow
– funny and serious
Broadly speaking when you considered the arguments, for and against, weighed up the pros and cons and considered that in the fullness of time there may well be a solution even if it catered for the narrowest of possible reasons there was a reason to carry on.
It was a funny conclusion to arrive at considering the seriousness of the situation. It was a very personal thing, we all concluded, giving him the benefit of the doubt and knowing the board base of his appeal, that is apart from the broad base he sat upon, there was every chance, as narrow as that chance was, that success would be arrived at.
So, it came to a serious moment in his life when he addressed the crowd. They had fallen silent which was a funny place to be in considering the seriousness of the time and that his broad physical form was blocking out the sun and only a narrow sliver of light was able to snake around his voluminous shape.
But he delivered, and we were grateful. He blended the broadness with the narrowness, and we all agreed there was nothing funny at the end of his serious address.
Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2017/11/11/saturday-mix-opposing-forces-11-november-2017%ef%bb%bf/
They said he would have given his right arm if he could.
Generous to a fault and harmless as they come.
So, it came as a terrible surprise to hear that he had been harmed as he had been.
A broken arm, from what started out as a friendly arm-wrestle had gotten out of control and his opponent had taken umbrage at the thought he would be defeated, and so his armed mates took to him, pushed him into an old armchair and beat him.
Afterwards, they dragged him semi-conscious into the armoire and locked him inside. It was hours later when his mate Johnny Armstrong came by that he was found.
Now he is in the hospital, and there is talk he may join the army to get away from this town. But today I helped him dress as he cannot get his arms through the armholes of his coat.
He’s feeling pretty devastated and very much harmed by people he thought were mates. But if he sees them again I know he will be armed to the teeth in readiness for them.
Written for: https://lindaghill.com/2017/11/10/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-nov-11-17/
We are all multi-faceted, and this image to me illustrates that idea.
The notion that like an onion we have many dimensions to us comes to mind.
I think we’d all like to think there is more to us than meets the eye.
I have a neighbour who comes to mind. He is a retired High School Principal and is now days suffering with Parkinson’s Disease.
But he doesn’t see this as a handicap rather as an impetus to get out and do as much as he can for himself while he can.
He rides every day, he goes on trips with his wife and explores the countryside and next year he and his wife are planning a cycling trip to Italy.
He is an avid gardener; his vegetable patch is brilliant to behold, and he maintains a passion and enthusiasm for mathematics.
The other afternoon he found him tutoring a young student and after he was telling me how alive he felt delving into his one great passion.
It is sad to watch the deterioration that is occurring within him, he can no longer sign his name for example, but he maintains a great sense of humour and to me is a wonderful example of not giving in but rather living life to the fullest. I admire him greatly for that.
For me he gives me hope that even though I too live with a chronic disease, there is before me an example of living as if there is a tomorrow and I am grateful for that.
We do spend the most pleasant of times on his back veranda talking over the world’s problems and how one thing or another could easily be solved, in our opinion at any rate.
He is one of these men who listens to you, sympathises when necessary but who is interested in all aspects of my life and marvelling at the exploits of my children.
I always come away from these visits feeling so much better within myself, and I hope he does too, as when I appear he drops whatever he is doing, grabs something to drink, often alcoholic, and we pull up a chair each, and away we go from there.
Written for: https://reinventionsreena.wordpress.com/2017/11/10/reenas-exploration-challenge-week-12/
Morpethroad 