Midnight Troll

The missing glasses case,   The misplaced key.   The quarter just in hand, It disappeared at one, then two, then three.   The new coffee cup sprung off the shelf and smashed, A birthday gift, suddenly found in a buried stash.   The menacing troll,…

Sestina – Imaginary

Prompt 23, Hour 23 Home stretch now! Write a poem about an imaginary pet or person. The poem can be from your perspective, the perspective of a neutral third party, or from the perspective of the imaginary pet or person themselves. *** Sestina – Imaginary…

A Red Racer Visit

I thought I might drop in for a bite. A frog or two have you here, my dear? SSSSurely, ssssomething to eat amid these rocks and boxessss! I taste it in the air, but where? May I play with your hair? Let’s just slither over…

A Few Memories (prompt 29, Hour 23)

I Born in my parents’ hometown. April is the month of bluebonnets.Many pictures of Mom in bluebonnet fields, None of me. My Mamaw lived there, and she loved me. II We were poor. We moved a lot, but it wasn’t hard. We spent most weekends…

Childhood, In Three Pieces (Hour Twenty-Three)

Childhood, In Three Pieces   ONE I climbed out of bed and fumbled through the hallway to the bathroom, rubbing my sleepy eyes with my tiny fists, even though Momma had told me not to. I lifted the lid and lowered my Strawberry Shortcake Underoos…

Just Do It (7:00 AM) – edit done (Hour 23)

~ D², @d2poetry Seeing end at hand thrilling ready to shout DONE, DONE, DONE! can feel it! close to finish line OH, can’t quit it just need to push out a good last one doesn’t have to be profound just do it could care less…

Tiny Kitchen

A Baltimore row-house Over a hundred years old Views of my favorite park A place to read A place to write A cute apartment, my first without roommates One bedroom One bath Hardwood floors built-in bookshelves, and a Tiny kitchen with a tiny stove and…

Holiday

Warm glowing crackles from the stone hearth as the circle begins to grow. Murmuring voices gather into lilting laughter and stories of growing old. The davenport is getting seedy from generations of hands and bodies. Oils that have left behind their traces; ghosts of friends…