Wings #Haiku

 

Mist coils sleeping pines

From their shadows, bats take flight

Dark shapes in moonlight

 

 

 

 

It’s been a bit since I’ve taken on one of Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday challenges (which is now: Colleen’s Weekly Poetry Challenge). Things have changed. More forms are included: Haiku / Tanka / Haibun / Cinquain / Senryu. Check it out and challenge yourself.

I’ve chosen a haiku. This week’s prompt is to write a poem with the words ‘mist’ & ‘shape’ in it.

 

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Armo’s Love #WritePhoto

 

 

Usually, men carrying axes were unwelcome in the woods.

But Armo was a different sort of man. He respected nature, cherished it even, and the trees knew him.

The day she died, he was there, ax in hand.

He arrived shortly after dawn, telling them he couldn’t bear the thought of her body decaying and asking permission to alter the natural order of things.

They looked into his heart.

They nodded.

They watched as he worked throughout the day, well into the night, until the next morning, not stopping for food or drink.

They marveled at the care he took.

Nothing drew his attention from her form, first cutting her down, then carving her into a smooth, wooden bed.

The Dryads admired their sister’s final resting place.

Tuulikki was gone. She would not be crumbling and returning to the woods but remaining there in a mix of man’s and nature’s peaceful slumber.

 

 

 

My #writephoto, a weekly writing prompt for poetry/flash/short stories hosted by Sue Vincent

(Note: This week’s photo shows a bed with a pillow, all carved from a single tree trunk and left in a wood.)

 

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Flurries

 

Snowflakes drifting down

Nestling between pine needles

Dusting robin’s wings

Sugar-coated berries charm

Breaking stillness, birds take flight

 

 

 

I’ve taken on another of Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday challenge. This week’s challenge is to write a Tanka poem (5/7/5/7/7) with the words ‘charm’ & ‘touch’ in it. (I didn’t cheat. 🙂 You can use synonyms and, in this case, I used “nestle” in place of “touch”.)

 

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If I Could Shake the Sky

 

snow-falling-at-night-sig-blue

 

If I could catch sunbeams,

I’d light your darkest days,

warming your heart when the world seems too cold to bear.

 

If I could shake the sky,

I’d sprinkle stars,

covering you with glittering dust, magic clinging to skin and hair.

 

If I could reach the clouds,

I’d twirl their softness,

making cotton candy to sweeten the bitterness of life.

 

 

This is inspired by a tweet Katsyarina wrote about a year ago with the line “if I could shake the sky” in it. That line has stuck with me. Thanks, lovely poetess. This post is for you and all who need a little magic or joy in their lives.

 

banishtheblues

Al Lane has challenged us to post something light, funny, happy, or joyous. Why?

“To help us all get through the dismal dirtsack we lovingly call January, I’ve started a #banishtheblues hashtag. I’d love it if you joined me! Just write, or draw, or photograph…anything to #banishtheblues!”

 

Changes

 

The death of nature

Brings such beauty to our world

Earth regenerates

Leaves change, decorate Autumn

Give way to Winter’s frosting

 

 

 

I’ve taken on another of Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday challenge. My first of the new year. This week’s challenge is to write a Tanka poem (5/7/5/7/7) with the words ‘change’ & ‘beauty’ in it.

 

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Dryads

 

The trees remember.

They think about when their sisters covered the valley, standing tall and proud.

Glossy, green foliage waving in summer breezes. Bare trunks frosted in winter snow. Branches reaching out, grasping hands, dancing in moonlight.

Now the few who remain nod to each other across empty fields studded with stumps of their sisters.

Their shadows stretch along barren land, soil cracked and dry.

Tufts of brown-tinged grass pretend they are a lush carpet of healthy green, turning from the truth.

The trees know better.

They are wise and no longer hold on to hope for the earth.

 

 

Flash Fiction Challenge over at Carrot Ranch

November 9, 2016 prompt: The End In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about an ending. 

 

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Hope

 

Hope fading with life,

sinking below dark tree line.

Late autumn sunset.

Waiting for sunrise, I see

hope arrives with Harvest Moon.

 

 

 

Day late and a dollar short, I’ve taken on a Tanka for Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday challenge. I know. It’s bad. But it was fun. I’ve never written one and the challenge was to write a Tanka poem (5/7/5/7/7) with the words ‘harvest’ & ‘moon’ in it. I couldn’t resist.

 

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Sweet Tea & Symphonies

 

The year before her father died, he pulled her aside, and asked her to listen to the crickets. Summer’s song, he had called them. Beautiful.

They sipped sweet tea to a chorus of insects.

He asked her to close her eyes and hear with her heart.

At the time, she didn’t know what he meant.

Now she sat, listening to a sound that might have been a symphony but had become the pull of a bow across the string of an old out-of-tune violin. To her, the crickets were a creaking porch swing empty of a father and daughter.

 

 

Flash Fiction Challenge over at Carrot Ranch

August 6, 2016 prompt: Sound In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that includes the sense of sound. It can be an onomatopoeia, a swearing session* with sound alike substitutes, lyrical prose or a description of a sound. 

* As tempted as I was to write a swearing session, I went with what was outside my window the evening I wrote this. Which was not a swearing session. Unless… Actually, I don’t speak cricket.


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Disintegration

 

The mortals’ reverence faded.

They grew distracted and self-absorbed, no longer worshiping The Goddess.

Her temple fell into ruin. Crumbled bits of once-sacred stone became debris scattered among tall grass. Moss and ivy clung to marble.

She watched this disintegration as it mirrored that of civilization.

Humanity split apart like a plank of weathered wood, discarding kindness and embracing hate.

She felt no pity or sorrow but, instead, disappointment and disgust. They were a plague.

Silent many years, The Goddess waited, fury rising, until she stood and filled the heavens with her rage, unleashing a storm to end them.

 

 

Flash Fiction Challenge over at Carrot Ranch

July 13, 2016 prompt: Anger In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story using the emotion of anger. 


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The Guides

 

She’d always welcomed the voices.

Though Greta knew not to let on she was hearing people speak inside her head, she didn’t think it was a bad thing. They were angels. Guides.

Greta wasn’t a pretty girl and didn’t “grow into her looks”, as her mum used to say. But friends often described her as having a “Mona Lisa smile”.

It was the voices that formed her knowing grin. They moved with her in a steady rhythm, galloping alongside her own thoughts.

Until that one day.

The voices grew urgent, aggressive. They became a stampede that trampled her mind.

 

 

Flash Fiction Challenge over at Carrot Ranch

February 24, 2016 prompt: Galloping In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about galloping


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