Poetry · writing

Haiku Poetry Competition

Inspired by watching my grandson play in the garden this morning I wrote this “short one” and submitted it to the Vita Brevis Haiku Poetry Competition. It’s a unique contest that takes place entirely in the comment section of the announcement post. Go on, then, submit your poem.


 

Green hues of sunlight
filter through the trees and hide
a young boy dancing.

 


 

OLWG · writing

OLWG#62- Krissy (with a K)- Unfinished

An unfinished story (I ran out of time)
Written for OLWG#62



Me, Stevie, and Mike were out cruising in Stevie’s 1959 Series 62 Cadillac convertible one night during our senior year in High School. I had just that afternoon shelled out ten bucks for a four-finger lid of pretty good Mexican herb rolled up in a baggie and stuffed in my right boot. Mike had a bottle of Blanco that he had taken from his Dad’s collection. We were drinking, smoking, and generally getting high.

Let me tell you about the car. It was red with tan leather upholstery. It was a heavy two-door convertible that probably weighed over two tons. Had to be more than twenty feet long, with a big 390 V8, and the back seat was large enough for you and a friend to make yourselves… comfortable in. It handled like a boat, a very powerful boat, and was easy to look at. It was a chick magnet; and that was the reason we were in the Caddy. There was an 8 track player mounted beneath the dash and we had the new Fairport Convention tape, “What We Did on Our Holidays”, shoved in and cranked.

We stopped in at ‘The Box’ and found some girls who were up for cruising downtown in the Caddy and I soon found myself sitting in the backseat with a girl named Krissy (with a K). She came with a joint about the size of her middle finger and we torched it off, passed it around. When Stevie pulled into the parking lot of the Montana Street Piggly Wiggly it was to get cookies and chips. We needed to feed our munchies. Krissy (with a K) took a cookie and began to nibble the edges, very lady-like.  She turned her head and when she thought no one was looking; she stuffed what musta been three whole Oreos in her mouth. Of course she didn’t get away with it. She laughed and a spray of cookie crumbs erupted which caused even more laughter, and in response she ate two more chocolate sandwich cookies. That was the kind of night it was, and we were all having a great time.

Long story short… It was about midnight when we found ourselves outside the U. We noticed a party at one of the “Greek Houses” and feeling no pain, we decided to stop in there. Maybe drink some of their booze. We told the guy at the door that Jimmy had asked us to come by, figuring there must be somebody in this frat named Jimmy. It worked and he stepped aside so that we could all come in. We got separated pretty quickly and me and Krissy (with a K) found ourselves in the basement seated at a U shaped bar with some other couples. There was this one guy just staring at me so I tried to avoid eye contact but eventually, of course, I failed.

“What’re you lookin’ at?” he snarled at me.

Now, I’ve listened to enough Country Music to know that there is no ‘right’ answer to this question when it is asked in that tone of voice, but the asker of said question will never allow you to ignore him. I took another approach, “Hey, don’t I know you?” I asked him. “Yeah, yeah, I do. You’re the guy who lost his job at the M&M plant for throwing out all the Ws. How’s your Momma?”

You could see the steam coming out of his ears. The boy was hot and I was beginning to worry about how I was going to get Krissy (with a K) out of there unharmed, but then he smiled.


This week’s prompts were:

  1. Jacks
  2. what’re you lookin’ at?
  3. they taught us to fear the dark

 

 

Tuesday Scribes · writing

Tuesday Scribes – In Marlow

A Haibun for this week’s prompt at Tuesday Scribes.


“It’s a lovely little town, these days, but it wasn’t always so. They used to have a haunting problem. Every night, at about midnight, the High Street would fill with phantoms and spirits. They’d overrun the town till dawn, wreaking havoc, causing mayhem. Residents stayed inside, doors locked, sashes shut tight, curtains drawn. Few were brave enough to venture outdoors and those that did – usually didn’t return.

“The population dwindled till there was more spectres out at night than was good folk during the day. The village, like to’ve died. It’s coming back these days.”

There’s a churchyard that’s
by the bridge, o’er the river.
The gate’s kept locked now.


Carrot Ranch · writing

Watching From Above, Waiting

Written for the August 2nd Flash Fiction Challenge



peering through his scope at the landscape below
looking at
an encampment, an encampment of one
that almost went unnoticed.
a flax coloured tent with a muted hue, sombre. quietly
blending into the background,
perfectly camouflaged.
a cold camp, no fire and the only sign of life is a yellow dog
stretched out and still
near an assortment of gear, stacked to one side
it has to be him
it must be Munroe
nothing to do now except stand by,
Munroe will be back.
a disturbance  from behind, then a voice, whispers,
“Hullo, Sutherland. What took you so long?”


The prompt and instructions were:

In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that includes a yellow tent. Where is it and who does it belong to? Think of how the colour adds to the story. Go where the prompt leads.