Twittering Tales #148 – August 6, 2019

About the challenge: Each Tuesday I will provide a photo prompt. Your mission, if you choose to accept the challenge, is to tell a story in 280 characters or less. When you write your tale, be sure to let me know in the comments with a link to your tale. This is important as I have noticed that some of the ping backs have not been working. If you would prefer to post your tale in the comments (some people have very specific blog themes but still want to participate), I am happy to post a link to your site when I post your tale in the Round Up.

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 a new prompt. And if for some reason I missed your entry in the Roundup, as I have occasionally done, please let me know. I want to be sure to include your tale.

Finally, have fun!


Twittering Tales #147 -The Roundup

beach-4365491_1280

Photo by enriquelopezgarre at Pixabay.com

Starting us off…
Toast
foolish naysayers will cry
thinning ozone is a lie
they boast global warming’s a hoax
but the mercury’s rising
polar ice caps are melting
the sea’s swelling over the coast
people gathering in droves
strip off all of their clothes
sizzling on sand bars like toast
~kat
254 Characters

By Lisa at Tao Talk:
Ants
Crom, an interstellar vagabond parasite, was told to, “Get out of Dodge” with an uncanny regularity.
Crom entered the Milky Way and saw edible bugs on Earth. As a shape shifter, he became clouds and waited to guzzle. Today his huge nozzle lowered; he began to eat the “ants.”
[276 characters]

By Tien at From the Window Seat:
Group Think
The long weekend holidays were here so they took half day off from work. They thought they set off early enough to beat the holiday crowd.
They thought wrong.
The beach was packed when they reached.
Everyone else had the same idea too.
Humankind was not any different from sardines.
(280 characters)

By Graham at Graham is Just My Name:
THE SEASIDE
I savour my morning coffee and watch the news.
Childhood memories return of the seaside; sand-castles, vanilla ice-cream, and donkey rides.
Now you wouldn’t see me dead in those crowds. It looks like somewhere in hell.
The twins bounce in excitedly.
Can we go to the seaside Daddy?
(277 characters)

By Fandango at This, That, and the Other:
Second Honeymoon
Honey, what’s wrong? I thought you’d be thrilled.
This is not what I expected when you said you wanted to take me on a romantic second honeymoon.
But, baby, this is one of the most popular beach resorts in the world.
Yes, and one of the most crowded. Where’s the romance in that?
(276 characters)

By Bear at Jellico’s Writing Nook:
The Photo
‘Found this in the ruins.’ He stared at the picture. ‘Humans; half-naked. Wonder if it’s some kind of religious ceremony?’
‘Don’t know, don’t care. Just throw it in the burn pile already.’
‘Yeah, sure.’ He turned as if to comply, then deftly slipped it into his pocket.
CC: 267

By Larry at East Elmhurst A Go Go:
The Odds Are You Won’t Live to See Tomorrow
“I feel like Patrick McGoohan’s John Drake character in ‘Secret Agent,’ ” Al told Fred. “Drinking, womanizing.” “Remember one catch though,” his friend said. “That line in the Johnny Rivers song is ‘swingin’ on the Riviera one day, then layin’ in a Bombay alley next day.’
(278 characters)

By Di at Pensitivity101:
“You’re joking, right? I mean, we live within a stone’s throw of a clean sandy beach.
We can swim or sunbathe without having to fight for space.
What the hell possessed you ????”
‘It was free,’ he said sheepishly.
210 characters


grief repeating – Monday with the Muse

BlueMuse

Painting, “Blue” by Kat Myrman

grief repeating

even now, grief
repeats itself
whispering,
“what hope for
love survives
here”…

some
see only
dusty
reflections
in blue

~kat


A Blackout poem inspired by the poem below “Anne Frank Huis” by Andrew Motion.

Anne Frank Huis
by Andrew Motion
Even now, after twice her lifetime of grief
and anger in the very place, whoever comes
to climb these narrow stairs, discovers how
the bookcase slides aside, then walks through
shadow into sunlit room(s), can never help
 
but break her secrecy again. Just listening
is a kind of guilt: the Westerkirk repeats
itself outside, as if all time worked round
towards her fear, and made each stroke
die down on guarded streets. Imagine it—

four years of whispering, and loneliness,
and plotting, day by day, theAllied line
in Europe with a yellow chalk. What hope
she had for ordinary love and interest
survives her here, displayed above the bed
 
as pictures of her family; some actors;
fashions chosen by Princess Elizabeth.
And those who stoop to see them find
not only patience missing its reward,
but one enduring wish for chances
 
like my own: to leave as simply
as I do, and walk at ease
up dusty tree-lined avenues, or watch
a silent barge come clear of bridges
settling their reflections in the blue canal.

Andrew Motion, “Anne Frank Huis” from Coming In To Land: Selected Poems 1975—2015.  Copyright © 2017 by Andrew Motion.  Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers Inc..
Source: Coming In To Land: Selected Poems 1975—2015 (HarperCollins, 2017)


Oviellejo #4

US Mass Shootings, 1982-2019: Data From Mother Jones’ Investigation


oh what a tangled mess we’ve weaved
now a nation grieves

we offer prayers, while asking why
to an empty sky

raining terror down on our heads
as we count the dead

we’ll blame some other foe instead
of looking at our own dark hearts
admitting that we played a part
now a nation grieves to an empty sky as we count the dead

~kat


The Oviellejo is an Old Spanish verse form (derived from ovillo, a ball of yarn). A stanza consists of 10 lines, with a rhyme scheme of AABBCCCDDC. The second line of each rhyme scheme, Line 2,4,6, is short line of up to 5 syllables. The last line is a “redondilla,” a “little round” that collects all three of the short lines.


Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 4 August 2019

The sun is shining in my small corner of the world this morning. There’s a cool breeze, birds are singing, people around the neighborhood are stirring, having coffee on front porches, some will head to the churches that populate dozens of corners throughout my town. No doubt those congregants will offer thoughts and prayers for the victims of the last 24 hours, for the 29 departed souls, for the 53 people injured, for the families changed forever. Thoughts and prayers.

I’m sick of this. I’m angry. We the people know what we need to do. Weapons of war need to be removed from our streets and the hallowed arsenals of 2nd amendment zealots. We need sensible gun regulation, background checks, mental health services and transparency in law enforcement. Our forefathers did not envision this when they penned that amendment. But they had the foresight to include a phrase that gets lost in the “right to bear arms” mantra…”a well-regulated militia”. This is the second amendment in full, “A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed.”

What we have today is anything but regulated. Those in power, who suckle at the teats of the NRA are not interested in the will of the people. And cry as we may in outrage, we are responsible for keeping them in power; for the reign of terror that has assaulted us. We put them in office and keep them there, unchecked, allowing them to reap wealth and prosperity for themselves, the rest of us be damned.

And there is one more thing that bears mentioning. The elephant in the room. It is the caustic hateful rhetoric that spews from the jowls of the president day in day out. He wins when we are divided. He wins when the hate of people of color, the foreigner, lgbtq people, the poor, the sick, so-called liberals, the others, as in anyone not white, boils under our skin turning us against each other. But we can’t let him win. Trump is not the first and only source of this sickness but he is most certainly a symptom of the deep-seeded brokenness of our young nation. He is the epitome of everything that is ugly and hate-filled, selfish and evil and because he holds a position of supreme power, we must hold him accountable. He tweeted his thoughts and prayers for the victims of yesterday’s tragedy. I’m sorry, this is not enough Mr. president. It is meaningless. El Paso’s shooter clearly idolized you and was emboldened by your rhetoric. You alone are responsible for rallying the underbelly of society with every rant and chant of “lock her up”, “send her back”, for every dehumanizing statement you make about black and brown people, trans people, the poor, the educated and informed people who see right through your scam, for anyone who does not “bow to trump”. White terrorists are not “good people” Donald. They are your deadly minions.

I am sick of this. I am angry. I am heartbroken. And I’m feeling helpless and vulnerable right now. 251 mass shootings have occurred in 214 days in 2019 with 1,032 people being shot. Of those people, 180 have died. We are past asking, “what will it take” and “how many more”. Talk gets us nowhere. Talk gets us more terror tomorrow and the next day and the next.

Tell those you love that you love them. Tell them and show them every chance you get this week. None of us is guaranteed tomorrow. So let’s be kind to each other. Life is short. Peace out.


Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 4 August 2019

we forget love fashioned us
armed with poison secrets
soul devouring ecstasy
sizzling on sand bars like toast
soaking me down to the skin…
face gone dark this black moon night
let’s get real, because it’s true, life is too short
the coo of a lone dove, mourning,
please don’t despair, in this dark time kindness is free

~kat


A ReVerse poem is a summary poem with a single line lifted from each entry of a collection of work over a particular timeframe and re-penned in chronological order as a new poem. Unlike a collaborative poem, the ReVerse features the words of one writer, providing a glimpse into their thoughts over time. I use it as a review of the previous week.


Oviellejo #3

it’s a scary thing to care,
please don’t despair

dare to let the real you shine
in this dark time

though truth’s a rare commodity,
kindness is free

try giving more than you receive
pass along a friendly smile,
reach out, go the extra mile
please don’t despair, in this dark time kindness is free

~kat


The Oviellejo is an Old Spanish verse form (derived from ovillo, a ball of yarn). A stanza consists of 10 lines, with a rhyme scheme of AABBCCCDDC. The second line of each rhyme scheme, Line 2,4,6, is short line of up to 5 syllables. The last line is a “redondilla,” a “little round” that collects all three of the short lines.