Tag Archives: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie

The Anniversary

the anniversary

house of bones
where all lies broken,
walls of pride,
insatiable, jagged sound
of doubt gone missing


A Shadorma (3/5/3/3/7/5) for MindLoveMisery’sMenagerie Sunday Writing Prompt based on the following titles:
The Old Sawmill
Insatiable Doubt
The Missing Eye
House of Bones
Zombie Apocalypse Take 2
The Jagged Piece
All That Lies Broken
Whispers in the Wall
The Sound of Pride
The Anniversary



Photo by Stray_Pic and Pixabay.com

“Try to imagine what it will be like to go to sleep and never wake up… now try to imagine what it was like to wake up having never gone to sleep.” – Alan Watts

upside down,
gravity immune,
gaslit dreams
are nightmares
that becomes more horrible
when people wake up


A Shadorma (3/5/3/3/7/5) for  MindLoveMisery’sMenagerie Sunday Writing Challenge: to write a poem based on an Alan Watt’s quote. (see above)

The Long Winter

“In each of us there is another whom we do not know.” Carl Jung

how does one
measure life’s seasons
count the years
or two hundred forty-four
slipping into black


A Shadorma (3/5/3/3/7/5) for MindLoveMiserysMenagerie Sunday Writing Prompt.

Valley of Forgotten Souls

Valley of Forgotten Souls

They hide inside layers of second hand clothes,
loudly conversing with monsters and demons,
roaming the streets, their treasure in buggies,
nightmares in flesh, they come out every evening.
Calamity haunts them wherever they travel.
Long since abandoned, no family or kin.
Begging for pennies with no place to call home.
Survival’s a game that so few of them win.
Outcast, these destitute vagabonds rally,
warming their hands at makeshift barrel fires,
bedding down in dark alleys; shelters of cardboard,
no dreams of a future where they can retire.
Where is the hope for these life-burdened souls?
Untreated insanity rattles their brains.
Could they be angels, to test our compassion,
or are they just people with forgotten names?


Almost didn’t make it in time for this week’s MindLoveMisery’sMenagerie Sunday Writing Prompt. But an encounter with a homeless man, screaming obscenities as he shuffled behind a shopping cart loaded with refuse and cardboard, gave me my heartbreaking inspiration. The prompt was to choose a title to write about. I chose “Valley of Forgotten Souls”. The photo is by Miriam’s-Fotos at Pixabay.com

Dear Mr. Rogers

For Sunday Writing Prompt #227 “Letters to Characters”: The challenge: write a letter to a character from a book or movie as if they were a real person. The character can be one that you love, hate, or love to hate. Offer them advice, question their life decisions, criticize or berate them, profess your love to them the choice is yours!

mr rogers

Fred McFeeley Rogers – March 20, 1928 – February 27, 2003

Dear Mr. Rogers,

I’m sorry to interrupt your eternal bliss. I’m sure you are resting peacefully in your own beautiful corner of heaven enjoying the rewards of your stellar time on earth. Don’t get me wrong, you deserve it, but we need you!

Our neighborhoods are not beautiful right now. People are afraid to come out, locking their doors and shuttering their windows. They’re talking about building walls and they’re burning down bridges. I’ve witnessed that with my own eyes. And people are mean Mr. Rogers. So mean. It’s really scary.

Now, I know what you are probably thinking,”Look for the helpers.” I can even hear you saying it in your soft comforting voice. The thing is…the thing is…I have to tell you Mr. Rogers it’s getting harder and harder to find them. The helpers. But what’s even worse, horrible in fact, is that the monsters are now stalking us in the very places where the helpers hang out. Fun places, sacred spaces, the halls of our government! They are everywhere.

I’m not sure how it works, but I’m sure if anyone can figure it out, you can. I’m afraid if you come back the old fashioned way, as a baby, there might not be anything left by the time you are old enough to help. If it’s possible, maybe you can split yourself into several parts and possess a few of us. You won’t have to do anything except whisper in our ears and stir our souls. We’ll do the work.

And you can use me if you want. I don’t mind. But I don’t think I can do it alone. I have a few friends. I think they’d be willing to help too. Especially if I told them it is you.

Think about it Mr. Rogers. We need you more than ever. Some people say you were just a character on a kid’s show. But I have always believed you were the real deal. I would never impose upon your eternity if it were not really important. It is really important.



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