Today you get a three-fer…Friday, Saturday and Sunday’s prompt responses. Not that i wasn’t writing each day but true to form, i wanted to give each offering its creative due. Happy Sunday!
Na/GloPoWriMo Day 8 prompt: name your alter-ego, and then describe him/her in detail. Then write in your alter-ego’s voice. _______________________
pure transparency superpower revealed truth is my weapon
~kat
Glo/NaPoWriMo 2022 Day 9 Prompt: write in a specific form – the nonet! A nonet has nine lines. The first line has nine syllables, the second has eight, and so on until you get to the last line, which has just one syllable. ______________________
fishbowl in flux
when the snails passed away this week the tetras dined on escargots catfish came out of hiding to clean the empty shell nothing is wasted life cycles on, season’s change, nature’s way
even now after all these years just the thought of her ignites love’s embers, the smoldering subtle tinge of longing, yesteryear flashing in excruciating, technicolored detail sunlight glistening through the fine hair on her bare skin, scent of warm musk, soft bursts of breath, melded, crescendoing to a sigh remembering…remembering that once upon a moment past touches me so deeply after all these years even now
I had just logged out of my work computer, sat down to watch a bit of mindless TV while my dog’s tilapia baked in the oven. Okay, yes I cook for my dogs. Vet’s orders…though… well that’s another story it’s for my sweet Winston who refuses to go out in the rain to do his business without his raincoat Winnie, who has a special blankie and needs to be tucked in at night
anyhoo… where was I?
just finished work got two trays of tilapia into the oven fed the cats (don’t think i mentioned that or the cats) got Winston dressed in his raincoat so he could take a wee plopped down on the recliner sofa in the den turned on a movie then THIS popped up on the big screen…
what follows next is the conversation i had with some AI beaming in via satellite from a galaxy far, far away no doubt just sayin’
been a rough week only Tuesday, you say? rough week
Wha’? Hall-low!
Something’s not quite right. You’re telling me…wait!? How did you know?
Your receiver has not been reset in a while. Well that would explain a few things. It’s been a few years, hasn’t it? What with pandemics, government coups (attempted, alleged, your everyday tour group gone amuck in DC), inflation, wars, mass shootings, crazy people, two presidents (well, one just thinks he’s still the president…and people believe him!) mean, really nasty, hateful people, I must say I don’t miss being out there I don’t miss the office, the gossip, the backbiting, the hour-long commute i thought i was doing fine, adjusting to isola…i mean solitude but maybe it’s affected me just a bit more than i realized
To prevent your system from becoming unstable… Hey! No need to get personal bud!
…and to ensure you have the latest programming and software updates…. great hook! i’m listening… let me guess three easy payments of $9.95, free shipping and double this offer so i can share it with…
…your receiver will be reset in 45 seconds. Ha…wish it was that easy. You’re right. Something’s not quite right…
Most resets take less than 5 minutes. … … … well, i just spent 45 seconds in a conversation with my television i’m not sure 5 minutes is gonna cut it
think i’m gonna go unplug
the microwave just in case
~kat 🤪
NaPoWriMo 2022 - Day 5 Prompt: write a poem about a mythical person or creature doing something unusual – or at least something that seems unusual in relation to that person/creature.
I had fun with this one. Don’t know if it’s a poem…or on topic, but i had fun! 😊
Sun-painted Green Mountain as the crow flies at dawn -kat March 2022
the wild sacred
who can look at the sun at dawn or at dusk and not feel it’s fire in your core or sink your naked feet in cool loam it’s tingling vibration, as you become one with the she that is Her; oh, the song of cicada’s stirs sensuous longing; their slow rhythmic moan to crescendoing climax to breathless release…’sigh’…how indeed the cacophony of spring birdsong at dawn, their frenetic trill tweets are passion’s love song how could wild things be bedeviled as wrong from the rush, ebb and flowing of waterways deep to shallow streams bubbling, the brute power of steam, the way wind-tossed leaves sound like tempest-swelled seas while the stars and the moon watch us drift off to dream, to sleep, souls to keep holy, holy, wild is the rawness of green not sterile stone chapels with steel phallic spires but darkness, musk hollows, mountains and fire, how sacred is She, how wet with desire the earth and the sky and a soft cooling breeze can transport one to heaven on earth…
come with me
we’ll tip whistling kettle to cup, watch the crushed tea leaves bleed you’ll tell me your tales, and i’ll tell you mine too, while we sip from our cups in this wild sacred place, just us two
-kat
Just musings..no prompt or challenge save the magnificence surrounding me. Some poetry is best just because. 😊
hello there dandy, first to bloom, with golden mane, frosted lightly, buttons of tiny petals to parasols of gray, taking flight one day on bursts of breath whispered softly to a crystalline sky… it would seem you are more than a nuisance, a weed deeply rooted, it is you who dares to bare your face, to rise, to shine in the light of the worm moon, to announce the coming spring… a dandy-lion who dallies with tempests, only to be plucked from the loam, soft, downy, feather-light, ripe for the kiss of wish-makers, to dance for wide-eyed innocents who dare to dream
i’ve been watching the great oak in my yard for several years now… she doesn’t play by the rules of autumn, clinging tightly to faded, parched leaves against the fiercest of tempests, through ice and heavy lobs of wet snow, though her branches may bend to almost breaking, she holds fast i don’t know what to think of such a tree, is it vanity, stubbornness, a lapse of memory? for as sure as summer drifts to autumn and autumn to winter, spring will come as the sun grows warm and days grow long, life will begin to surge through her veins causing buds to burst, at long last setting their departed siblings free to ride the wind, to taste the earthen loam, to rest, to rest in peace in a sea of greening
i’ve been known to be stubborn, to cling too tightly to things not meant for me, to useless longing for what once was, my memory forgetful of the struggles of those glorified once upon a times, and time again i have been known to stand full-faced against a tempest, convinced i held on and on for virtue’s sake, believing martyrdom raised me up, oh there it is, the vanity, how loathsome to be a tree that can’t let go when letting go is one’s very destiny… letting go to ride the wind, to fall to pieces, to trust the seasons, to know that whatever is left of me is all i need and here, now is where i’m meant to be
So it is easier for you to find all the parts/chapters of my ongoing fiction series, I created a new page that lists all the links. You can check it out HERE!
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Kat Myrman and Like Mercury Colliding with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
