Troubled I tried, I failed I stood, I flailed I attempted my task, took center stage, sat on that bench as they asked. It fell, my fault they claimed I tried again and the result was the same. Today I’ll try again. With a stool….
Category: Miscellaneous
4 – Dad
Oranges always remind me of you, oranges and furry California wild sage. and free range venison, the kind that tastes like it lived on a steady diet of furry, California wild sage, and oranges. and yellow anything, but particularly yellow circles like the ones you…
Lost, found
Neighborhood wallpapered light poles bus stop shelters shop doors ‘Lost cat’ every week, every day new signs, different cats Neighborhood social media exacerbates frenzy hysterical ‘owners’ angsty postings, pleadings ‘Lost cat’ every week, every day new signs, different cats The cats all come home lost,…
A Prose Poem/Prompt 5 Hour 4
A gasp escapes me at the sight of it. An ugly winged thing. The orange, a delicious contrast to the darkness beneath it and that above it. That monstrosity, spindly legs, touching the orange pulp. Dark wings, stand as if pinned on its back. I…
To my Grandma who became a star
Sometimes I look up in the sky Full of stars and the moon Seems like time has stopped running there And everything is still Those days I want to stop the time as well Coz I know they will be gone Once the light appears…
An Appealing Slice Of Life
O merry moth, or are you a butterfly? How I wonder where you’ve been as I see you flitting by! Have you visited my roses red and drank from their morning dew? Where do you sleep when the day is through? The juicy orange slices…
child’s pose
sleep deprived mentally sensitized the words~ struggling, and stumbling self doubt chimes distracted by chaos tormented by ego silently screaming through emotional hell to her proverbial knees she quickly fell head to the floor tears threatening once more pause, just…
Hour Four – Cornucopia (Diamante)
plentiful abundant bountiful gloriously brilliantly alive copious voluminous cornucopia Antoinette LeRoux © 2019
Poem #4
Flowers a lot of them pretty too so I bought a bunch realized later they were artificial
The Last Meditation, Hour 4
He sits,feeling the physical Hands once callused now soft and scarred Strong arms weakened, joints arthritic The youthful drive throttled back by time Body deteriorating, he retreats back into the mind Sits on crossed shaky legs Back aching But despite body’s entropy, he smiles, satisfied…