photo by Diana Feil via Unsplash
Without greasepaint and a silly wig, Harry was invisible.
He existed inconspicuously, on the cusp of survival, a lonesome “weirdo” to those who happened to notice his shadow.
But as Chuckles the Clown, he was a beloved character and everyone knew his name…Chuckles.
~kat
For Sonya’s Three Line Tale Challenge based on this photo by Diana Feil via Unsplash.
in the blackest
of times let
the whisper of
the wind sing
you to sleep
~kat
(Magnetic Poetry – Original Kit)
spinner,
abandoner,
your lattice is fading
it longs for your touch…do you care?
spider
~kat
(A Cinquain)
Today’s word of the day on Dictionary.com is Bellyache. It has been a part of the English language since the mid-16th century. It means literally, “pain in the bowels, stomachache”, but morphed into an Americanism in the late 19th century. This new application, which most of us are familiar with, means “to complain; grumble”.
This is one of those slang words that really took off and continues in popularity; used in literature, poetry and newsprint. It’s former, more basic meaning also gets much wide usage especially in medical circles.
Many of us may remember being chided for bellyaching about this or that as children, unless of course our bellies did actually ache. Then we were indulged by our caregivers with love and tender attention. Makes my wonder if that is why we revert to the latter application of the word when we are feeling ignored, left out or left behind. If belly aches gain us comfort and attention…bellyaching ought to reward us similarly. In many cases it does. I’m reminded of the squeaky wheel. Yep. Suffering in silence rarely gets us the attention we feel we deserve, but it’s all about balance. One should avoid becoming a chronic bellyacher. It is true that bellyaching is quite contagious and terminal if not kept in check.
I suppose could bellyache about the weather, current events, life in general…but I won’t bore you. Instead here are a few haiku. Have a great weekend wherever you are! 🙂
worrisome snivelers,
bellyaching nitpickers
see empty glasses
a true bellyache
is when your belly aches;
grumbling optional
all bellyachers
share a common attribute…
rude bursts of hot air
~ kat
photo by © Sarah Potter
I watch the ivy slipping her green tentacles between bricks, crumbling mortar. And water, brackish or raging white caps, it doesn’t matter. She slowly sucks the shore into the sea and hollows tunnels through massive boulders with a kiss.
We lay pavements, build foundations and walls, and erect iron behemoths to the sky in our attempt to mute her, to contain her. Nature always finds a way to reclaim what is hers. What has always been hers.
Like the remnants of civilizations past sandwiched between layers of limestone and ore, we too are destined to return, ashes to dust.
~kat
(99 Words)
For Rochelle Wisoff-Fields Friday Fictioneer Flash Fiction Challenge inspired by this photo by © Sarah Potter.
like mercury colliding... 