Monthly Archives: June 2017
Magnetic Poetry Saturday
A trio of streaming unconscious thought…
we are prisoners
dancing our lives
away in concrete
towers, drinking
coffee to stay
awake
…
sometimes fever
is what is needed
for healing
…
we can wish
away moments
or sit with
them, feeling
~kat
On the last one I challenged myself to use only one screen of words. It was quite a challenge indeed.
Sinker ~ Friday’s Word of the Day Haiku
Happy Friday! Today’s word of the day at dictionary.com is “Sinker”. It’s a fun word. It’s one of those words with several meanings:
1. a weight used to sink a fishing line or sounding line.
2. BASEBALL a pitch that drops markedly as it nears home plate.
3. a type of windsurfing board of insufficient buoyancy to support a person unless moving fast.
4. US a doughnut.
5. A cesspool.
6. a (silver) dollar
7. a person or thing that sinks.
8. a person employed in sinking, as one who sinks shafts.
from Dictionary.com and the Fine dictionary.
And you might also be familiar with the idiom, “Hook, Line and Sinker”, a fishing term that incorporates three essential pieces of fishing tackle in angling. Also, in English language, the phrase ‘to swallow something “hook, line and sinker” ‘ is an idiomatic expression to describe a situation where a person or group accepts wholesale and uncritically an idea or set of beliefs. (From Wikipedia) .
There isn’t a whole lot to say about its etymology. It is a very popular word with several spikes in usage through time based on its application. It pretty much means what it implies in all of its incarnations…something that sinks, as in drops or dips low. I have a few Haiku for you today. Have a great weekend!
underground stinkers
vile cesspools called sinkers
an oligarch’s den
hook, line and sinker
how the gullible gobble up lies
of a deceiver
sweetens the palate
sinkers dipped in morning brew
AKA donuts
~kat
Octo-Cat
For Sonya’s Three Line Tale Challenge based on this photo by Timothy Meinberg via Unsplash.
He showed up at their front door one stormy night, flea-ridden, battle-worn, sopping wet and one who had likely used up at least eight of his nine lives.
They called him Scamp, took him in as one of their own, gave him the finest food and a plush pillow to sleep on.
But the old Tom could not be domesticated, escaping often the comfort and safety of home to roam the docks where he had his fill of fish guts and the salty taste of freedom.
~kat
The Crucible
This week Rochelle gave us a rather bleak photo prompt for her Friday Fictioneers challenge. I ruminated over it for a day, fighting my first impression; one of heartache, loss and destruction because, quite frankly, I am weary of of reality this week. Every day small fragile men find new ways to trample on the things we hold dear. Today, not content to destroy just our nation, our horrible leader took steps to ravage the earth our home. So I needed a bit of hope.
PHOTO PROMPT © KARUNA
The Crucible
The massive brush fires expanded their reach into neighboring homes licking at their foundations before ravaging the stick frames that held them together. Fire doesn’t discriminate once it contorts into its frenzied surge, consuming furniture, clothing, family photos and other treasures.
Precious though they may once have been, they are dross, but the tempest has no power over memories that emerge in the hearts of those left behind.
Memories remain, cherished all the more by living survivors who realize while sifting through the ashes, that they, and those that they love, are the greatest treasure of all.
~kat
(97 Words)
Most Inspirational Blogger Nominee
like mercury colliding... 