In Crete I walked along the shoreline Contemplating the fate of it’s people Bull gods and dancing A stronghold against sensibility I too could paint my breasts Beauty displayed to the world Focus my attention on the delicate Folds of fabric in my skirt…
Category: Marathon Poem
The Goblin’s Grotto – Prompt 11, Hour 11
Cool, damp, and muddy Not one but two larger ears A horde of green friends Mushrum lurking tall Goblin beneath oh so short Eating bugs for fun Big tall humanoid Stompy Stompy go his boots Spores are on the loose Threatening Bad Time Goblins run…
Hour 11: Sea
I have never been to sea though I always wanted to see it the vast ocean of clear blue along the shimmering sand and the breeze, offering a respite under the Sun full of warmth or so I have been told I have never been…
Heaven/Hell
I will never make it to heaven. You cannot tell me that I will make it there. All good people go to heaven. This is it, My bad deeds outweigh by good deeds. You cannot tell me that I won’t go to hell….
Poem 11
Winter 1891 One frostee day Emma got control the hous. I was told to leeve. I learne reed and writ sum. But not enuf to teech skool. Also, they dont take girls like me. I got a room. One windo. Sum lite. Dark nite. The…
Hour 10
Forgot to post it here!
Prompt 11 Hour 11
Where dragons breath meets fire and blades of grass become those of steel I find myself a not so innocent stranger in this world that seems unreal cloaked in robes of finery a crown upon my brow a nod for the passerby that assumes I…
Watch Out!
Look, Sheeple, to the higher purpose of life. I’m not talking about men, women, children, or marriage; Or unhappy grown women with jobs and no man and on and on and on with the other redundant world issues Or whether it’s ok to make peace…
Prompt #7: Season of the Pandemic
It was a sunny winter day the day that the pandemic hit home. The day the economy shut down. The day that government closed. The Wall street floor emptied onto the streets of New York, Not to return for months. Stores, amusement parks, beaches, and…
7pm – eleven – no title
time smiles gentle friend innocent hearts understanding his tongue, my cheek, caresses tenderly touch my ear soft sounds a whispered song wild spirit without compare