Tag Archives: MLMM

Butterfly Effect Florette

whispering soft on fragrant swells,
a story only you can tell
amidst the chaos don’t ask why
but rise above, to the heights fly where condors dwell

though some may try to hold you here
don’t listen to their hopeless fear;
the universe has other plans
a shift in time, the fates be damned,
makes all things clear

yield to the metamorphosis
existence grounded, sands to sift;
flee the chrysalis’ slumb’ring keep
lasso the whirlwind’s swirling sweep to find your bliss


A proper Florette* for Mind Love Misery’s Menagerie’s Sunday Writing Prompt: Butterfly Effect.

The Florette, created by Jan Turner, consists of two or more 4-line stanzas.
Rhyme scheme: a,a,b,a
Meter: 8,8,8,12
Fourth line requirement of internal (b) rhyme scheme, on syllable 8.

Core Beliefs – MLMM Sunday Writing Challenge


“Everyone is entitled to their own opinion.” Of course this is true and reasonable, allowing us to agree to disagree in many cases, while still respecting the person holding said opinion.

Except…(Now if you are thinking, here comes the “but” you would be right. This is a very big BUT!)…except when opinions are touted as absolute, unwavering truth, despite known indisputable facts to the contrary, I am afraid I cannot agree to disagree, and I most certainly cannot respect people who hold these erroneous opinions. That is the rub, isn’t it? It is why we can’t get along anymore. It is why our society is so polarized and fractured.

The opinionated for opinion’s sake will often say, “It’s impossible to know the truth anymore, anyway.” It is tricky, I’ll give you that, especially in this age of special interest-influenced news outlets and hostile other-government attacks on us through social media, as well as our softening aversion to lies and alternative facts. It is especially troublesome in this age where winning elections for power rather than for service’s sake is the modus operandi of our politics; where facts are inconvenient truths that must be obstructed.

I have decided I will not have opinions anymore. I know I am entitled to them. That’s not the point. Opinions are rubbish if they are not informed by truth, (in my opinion of course) and since we are living in a time of open season on the truth, it is best to keep any opinions I might have, even though I am now loath to have them, to myself.

It goes without saying that I would appreciate others keeping their opinions to themselves as well. If I want someone’s opinion, I will certainly ask for it. In other words, I won’t be asking for it. As for the truth, I don’t particularly care to know that either. Truth in the absolute sense is dead. It can’t be trusted. Which creeps into a new category…faith.

Let’s not go there. Let’s just not.

Oh no you didn’t…
how do you do it, straight-faced,
believe in the lie?


This Haibun for MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie Sunday Writing Prompt: For this challenge I want you to examine one of your core beliefs.

House as Self – Sunday Writing Challenge

You never know when you might need that 3-inch lug-nut wrench that came with the baby gate I had when my kids were toddling.

“How old are my kids?” you ask.

Well, if you must know, they have children of their own now. All the more reason to hang onto that little tool. Never know when they might need it.

“And the keys?” you ask, “What are they for?”

Well, that black one? That was from my first apartment. Great place that was. Just a block away from downtown. Loved that place. And that tiny one? My very first diary. I still have it…somewhere…I think. The others? I’m not sure. But someone knows. So I keep them around, just in case.

I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking that all of this junk is useless. But I’ll have you know that I’m the first one everyone comes to when they need tape, a pen, a battery or a rubber-band. I can be counted on for a paper clip in a pinch, or a bandaid or one of those adapter thingies that you use to plug a three-pronged plug into a two-pronged outlet.

Junk you say? I know, and you do too, that you would be lost without me, but it’s okay if you don’t want to admit it. You know I’ll always be here if you need me. Remember that next time you need a twist-tie.


For MindLoveMiserysMenagerie Sunday Writing Prompt:”House as Self”. They say you can tell a lot about a person by the parts of a house that they are drawn to. I find myself reflected not in a particular room or space, but a drawer…a junk drawer to be exact. You know you love me…😉


If I’m being honest, there are only a handful of times I’ve experienced true euphoria. Meeting my children for the first time ranks right up there.

Certainly it was euphoria erupting in the sterile confines of those clinically-monitored natural events. I recall the sting of ammonia residue burning my nostrils, released in short Lamaze “hee, hee, ho, ho, oh god!” purse-lipped bursts, the push, don’t push groaning pelvic floor implosions, and the excruciating waves of dull, sharp, 9-10-is there an 11? on a scale of how bad is it? pain.

I was drenched in euphoria by the tingling tickle of cool sweat beads popping from my pores under the glare of strobing fluorescent lights, my muscles shaking uncontrollably, the incessant click-clacking of wheels on linoleum, paper-booted feet shuffling, fetal heart monitor lub-dubbing and by the startling smack of cold metal on my bare back on its sticky slide to the edge, my fuzzy-socked feet lodged securely in stirrups cradling my heels, while a dozen excited eyes burned a hole through my gaping crotch.

But oh… that was only foreplay, euphorically speaking. The exquisite climax to this laboring rush came at long last in the hot, wet, rushing sensation of soft alien flesh sliding from my core into the waiting, latex-gloved hands of a masked stranger who uttered the words I had waited nine long, bloated, nauseating, glowing months to hear…maybe even longer, if I’m being honest. “You did it, Mama! Meet your beautiful daughter!” That, my friends was euphoria!

Euphoria is a sliver shy of madness don’t you think? It’s a scientific fact actually, in some cases, you can look it up. But if we are lucky, it consumes us at least once in a lifetime. I have been quadruply blessed, but I fear my heart could not survive a steady dose of it!

even euphoria

an exhilarating experience
has a dark side

it’s sometimes a symptom
of carbon monoxide poisoning, hard drugs or mania…
I’m perfectly content with really, really happy


A few thoughts and a Cherita on the topic of Euphoria for Mind Love Misery’s Menageries’ Sunday Writing Prompt: Describe a moment in your real or fictional life when you experienced euphoria. Be as vivid as possible, hit all the senses (and I don’t just mean the basic 5).

A Lovely Obsession

The quote “She was beautiful, but she was beautiful in the way a forest fire was beautiful: something to be admired from a distance, not up close.”

~Terry Pratchett

A Lovely Obsession

I first met her when I was a child. I spent hours listening to her, drinking in tales of the love’s and lives of people I would never know, but whose dna coursed through my veins.

As I grew older I planned summer and winter breaks to be with her. She had so many stories left to tell and I couldn’t bear the thought of missing a single one.

Eventually, age and time began to take their toll. Her frame had weakened, and the light faded from her face. I moved nearby to be closer to her and continued my daily visits until the dreadful day when her voice was silenced by greedy real estate developers.

They drained her lovely moat and took a wrecking ball to her beautiful face, crumbling centuries of brick and mortar into a heap of dust. I watched, tears flowing down my face, as they loaded her into monstrous trucks, and hauled her away to a quarry, in order to build a resort on her sprawling estate.

They thought they had removed every trace of her, but I knew better. She was rooted in this place.

The hotel had barely opened its doors when rumors of hauntings spread. Patrons stopped coming. Eventually the new owners shuttered the doors of the resort for good.

I was happy to see it fail. Finally, I had her all to myself. Once again, I spent my evenings wrapped in the shadows of her abandoned corridors. After all, she had more stories to tell, and I couldn’t bear the thought of missing a single one.


A short story for Mind Love Misery’s Menagerie Sunday Writing Prompt inspired by the quote and collage above.

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