Prompt twenty four

The sun has risen

Almost in a teasing manner

Ever so slowly burning my tired eyes

Yet playful as usual beckoning the day

I cannot play today dear sun

For I need to rest these weary eyes

But dear writer I already miss you so

Dear sun I miss you as well even though you are burning my eyes through my skull

And making the birds ever so loud

But you have fun dear sun

I will catch you at your sleep

When the birds have gone

And my eyes can

Finally breathe

Prompt twenty three

I miss the smile I had in your arms

The tender sweetness wrapped knowingly

Peaceful

I miss the cool softness of your touch on my head

I miss the pooling of sheets on this sweet bed

Aww sleep how I miss you

Soon you will be mine

I will enjoy you for many hours

Perhaps till the end of time

Prompt twentytwo

 

He watched her but she knew he was there

She was no fool to a quick drawn affair

A muse she had been

Since 14 years old

Many an artist painted her bones

 

But she sought more than a brush could give

Playing to the night

romance and danger to live

but alas her coy nature

landed again in the artists picture

Prompt twenty one

He gave me roses

Again

He knows I hate flowers

Especially roses

How cliché can you get?

And it wasn’t even a simple red rosebud

It was two dozen premium Peruvian Gold Circle Rose Winner roses

With blooms so big I could cover my face

Maybe that’s what he wants

Maybe he thinks these roses will cover what he doesn’t want to see

Or maybe just to cover my mouth

But I don’t think there is a rose big enough for that

Prompt twenty

 

Above

She screams

So loudly

You think they would stop

But they are machines

Machines filled with men

The smoke billows from mouths and pipes

As they inch across

She screams

Attempting to get closer

As the smoke chokes

Her frail bird frame

And then it is done

No amount of screaming

No amount of

Screaming

Her nest

Lay on the ground

Her babies

Her sweet little chicks

Gone

Not even an afterthought

Coffee break

The men have left

But still

She screams

Prompt nineteen

I couldn’t help but feel the pull

The moon, the stars

You see

The universe was made for me

And in its arms

I was free

Prompt eighteen

Cloud Mountain

I tried to climb

To reach the top

Out of my comfort zone

No one told me how hard it was

When you start at the ocean floor

Drowning a bit in realization

I continue to rise

Getting to the surface

I struggle with the steps

Oh, wait I am swimming

Drowning a little

But I see my mountain

The clouds have left

One last leg

Just as I have it in my view

The clouds they come again

Hiding the cracks I need

For how am I to grasp

My heart, my breath

My cloud mountain

Prompt seventeen

I stare into the mirror

Afraid of what I might find

The angel on one shoulder

Or the devil in my mind

When the devil shows her heart

I find it hard to look

Because I know the angel quit

An easy loss she took

She fought for a minute

To keep good graces

Lazy angel

The devil wins again

But what do we expect

Its Saturday night

The bar isn’t closed quite yet

Prompt sixteen

I hate living in this shoe!

The tongue is leaking

And the stupid brats are everywhere!

I have lost my mind

At least four times

And that is only since noon!

The laces are worn

There is no room

I can’t catch a break!

Is it naptime soon?

Prompt fifteen

Some may say fire was invented by man. But everything was now wasn’t it. What you know has been told by tongues you understand. To resonate deep inside. But what if I told you the true story of fire. When the dinosaur roamed and the world was lush. There were no humans. Not yet anyway.

It was one very long day when the sun had been up for at least 20 hours. All the animals hot and all very exhausted. A tiny little bird only 3cm wide flew into the sky. Much higher than before. As its wings began to slow he perched on a cloud. So small he was the cloud naturally obliged. He rested a moment and went on his way.

Up and up he flew, he had a message to give to the sun, the sun he hardly knew. He had a plan to sing the sun to sleep. A sweet little lullaby. He got to the sun and boy was he tired. He could not muster a single note. The sun felt for the little birds journey and blew him a kiss, a sign of love for his scurry. Little bird burst into flames and fell to the earth. Ashes sprinkled like rain.

Oh little bird, oh little bird

His plan had failed. But the sun could not stop crying. Darkness came and the rains they poured. Little birds ashes pooled in a puddle. When enough tears had been shed the sun shone again. And out of the ashes on flaming wings he came

little bird little bird

A Phoenix he was now. On wings of fire he graced the sky.

Man just stole a feather. That’s how man lies.

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