songs of the conch shell
echo from her pearl pink pith
songs of the conch shell
echo from her pearl pink pith
roots never mingling
these solitary gardens
know not frost’s cool kiss
For TJ’s weekly Household Haiku Challenge, inspired by his wonderful photo of the Versailles Orangerie and using the prompt words: Garden & One (solitary).
She was the kind of girl who lit up a room. Not in a flashy over the top sort of way. She had a calming presence, but it was more than that. Grace perhaps? It was something special, hard to describe. I remember the first time I saw her sitting along the far edge of a room full of boisterous people, heavy into schmoozing. She was deep in conversation with our host’s Labrador Retriever. Otis was his name I think. And Otis, well, he hung on her every word, just as I drank in her every move, breathless.
I underestimated her that first meeting, you know. Of course I made it a point to get to know her better. Wouldn’t you? She opened herself to me like an ocean, given to tidal swells of emotion, teeming with life just under the surface, fierce yet healing. I hadn’t expected to find a wild spirit beneath her calm demeanor, but it endeared her to me even more. Over the years I learned about wild things. Only one so confident, comfortable in their own skin can exude such grace. Only one so free could dance through the layers of suffering and cross over into death…and in so doing, teach us all…teach me, what it is to live.
light fading, flicker
death swept you away too soon
how graceful you were
dancing with death, like lovers,
your final breath seizing mine
For Colleen Cheseboro’s Weekly Poetry Challenge inspired by the words: Calm and Wild. Today’s offering, a Haibun/Tanka. I have only recently discovered this form and I’m really enjoying idea of marrying poetry and prose. Peace and Grace Everyone! ❤
About the challenge: Each Tuesday I will provide a prompt, and your mission, if you choose to play along, is to tell a story based on that prompt in 140 characters or less. If you accept the challenge, be sure to let me know in the comments with a link to your tale.
A final note: if you need help tracking the number of characters in your story, there is a nifty online tool that will count for you at charactercountonline.com.
I will do a roundup each Tuesday, along with providing us a new prompt. Have Fun!
From Michael At Morpethroad:
Life’s like a cracked record
Same shit different day.
She picked up the photo album
Found her wedding images.
I was young once.
We all were.
From Sight11 at Journey:
Art of Singing continued
Devotees cherish pain
From Reena at ReInventions:
In a Time Warp
The screeching needle was stuck there, just like his life. Who, but a forgotten singer, would play a disc in the times of digital music?
From Kathryn at Another Foodie Blogger:
$20,000 he spent on what was described as a flawless record. With trepidation he sat the needle down. He was in near bliss, when…skip!
From Kitty at Kitty’s Verses – Two Tales:
Smooth sailing or bumpy ride, the record plays it all.Ups or downs, the wheel of life, grateful that it never pauses to stand and stare.
What is on the inside, is that it plays. The good or bad, inside of us,comes to the fore in any circumstance.
From Sandi at Flip Flops Everyday:
*No Parking on the Dance Floor*
DJ Spin that beat
Nodding head & moving feet
hip sway with a pounce
watch out for my booty bounce
Raising roof off the HOUSE
From Lady Lee at Lady Lee Manila:
I couldn’t resist playing that old thing below. The needle landed the wrong way. A scratching sound was heard and my mind soar to the past.
From Lorraine at In 25 Words More or Less:
Members of the band gathered ‘round the turntable.
Mesmerized, they listened to their newest release on vinyl.
1967? Surprise. 2017!
(131 characters; 20 words)
From Edwin at Edwin’s Journal:
She was engaged in reading.
He came; put on the vinyl and stood with his hand held forth and a romantic beam.
“Remember our first dance?”
From Willow at Willowdot21:
On repeat, Dandelion ran through my head. It accompanied, homework, tears, joy and growing up. The red & grey Dansette record player.
From Sangbad at Thoughts of Words:
A Waltz [Twittering Love Story]
He sees the sparkle in her eyes when Elvis starts It’s Now or Never, like that evening of ’67, he asks her for a dance…
From Jane at Jane Dougherty Writes:
“It’s stuck, right on her favourite track.”
“As if she wanted it to accompany her last journey.”
“When it stops, we’ll know she’s there.”
From Leena at Through my Heart Web:
He kissed slpng wife’s lips,then stabbed her on chest,played CD on Vinyl Record her fav song.Calmly said,I Loved U,U betrayed Me,I Killed U.
From Kirst at Kirst Writes:
I woke alone, the needle scraping against the record centre. A hurried note on the bedside table: “I’ll call you.”
But I knew he wouldn’t.
From Francine at Woman Walks Dog:
Takes me straight back, this tune ‘Smoke gets in Your Eyes’ – my husky voice, eyes smarting from those wreaths of smoke. Such fun we had. So long ago. Play it again
From Di at Pensitivity101:
It was a classic, never failed to send her to sleep.
Just wondered if she’d ever hear the end.
Good job it was on auto eject.
From Stacy at Warning the Stars:
It was well past midnight, but the champagne tickled her inhibitions.
“Go ahead, Harry,” her breath against his neck. “Play our song again.”
From Ghostmmnc at teleportingweena:
*None Left Behind*
click – tss
click – tss
click – tss
No one was left to change the record
When the Rapture occurred
No one was left behind
character count = 121
From Irena at Books and Hot Tea:
She woke up to the sound of her favourite song. Half-awake, she sunk deeper into her pillow.
Then she jumped up. Who turned on the player?
From Varad at L.E.R.T.:
‘Egwabaa..gabbadwe..’ the old record spun
‘Discard’, thought Ronan, irritated
‘Few minutes more’, the evil inside it argued
He had no choice.
From Peter at Peter’s Ponderings:
He was just going round in circles, not getting anywhere. Just as he thought of a brilliant plan, a huge black disc fell and squashed him.
From Kalpana at Gemini in the Sky:
The metal pin touched the disc, screeching,
music sprang to life,
this anniversary he has no partner to jive,
Shhh, her spirit is watching.
And starting us off, my tweet from last week…
She couldn’t bring herself to right the needle. Was she depressed? Maybe. Monotony helped her sleep.
Wow! I loved the Twitter Tales this week. Your tales spun off in so many directions! Mystery, romance, intrigue, supernatural, thrillers, nostalgia, faith, irony, melancholy! As always…not meaning to sound like a “broken record” but…you all are amazing! 🙂
This week’s photo is one I took on a dreary trip last week. I was on my way home from a funeral. How serendipitous of the weather to accommodate my mood! I’m looking forward to what you all do with it. A silver lining perhaps! 😉
Have a great week…smooth sailing and sunny skies. See you next week!
Twittering Tale #41 – 18 July 2017
“Hi…I’m gonna be late…traffic…and this damn storm…”
“They’re here. Got ’em some coffee…and…”
“Good. Tell them I’m…oh shit!”
In the gloaming, children would flock to Thistleberry Farm, clutching jelly jars with punctured lids, to hunt for fireflies. The field, a flickering yellow-green sea of waist-high grass and wildflowers, was teeming with them.
One girl collected fireflies in a covered crystal jar. She believed they were Faeries. The other children, cruel little beasts, teased her relentlessly. They called her Fae, for “Faerie Girl”. But Fae, as she would forever be known, didn’t seem to mind.
Some people believe she became a Faerie herself when she died. They say, “She haunts the gloaming, Faerie Fae, dressed in eerie blue.”
99 Words for Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ Friday Fictioneers Flash Fiction Challenge inspired by this photo by Janet Webb and Blue Ghost Fireflies*, a firefly found in the Southeast US that does not flicker but glows and eerie pale blue.
Phausis reticulata also known as blue ghost fireflies. These tiny fireflies are common throughout the southeastern US and are known as the “blue ghost” because they do not flash but glow with an eerie blue or green light. Females of the blue ghost are pale yellow or white in color and lack wings (right in photo below). Males do have wings and can fly (left in photo below). Since they have not be studied extensively little is still known about them and their habits.