OLWG · writing

OLWG#156- Micro Poetry

This piece was written for OLWG#156

in my mind there’s a place I am often found there thoughts run like water


i ne’er choose the voices I hear but instructions they run like water

The prompts were:

  1. run like water
  2. barroom fixture
  3. Gowers Avenue

I recently discovered and began following yassy66 who lured me in by mentioning Monoku. Research revealed that this is a poetic form similar to haiku, but written on a single line (like an American Sentence). Seventeen syllables, or less, with a pause and no punctuation. Being a fan of short form I had to try my hand. I used the same OLWG prompt twice. Any readers who are familiar with Monoku and who are so inclined are welcome to tell me what I’ve done wrong. Constructive criticism is welcome and appreciated.

OLWG · writing

OLWG#155- Midnight Microphone

This piece was written for OLWG#155

Hopper Todd woke to the night. His alarm sounded at exactly 10:00 pm, or 2200 as his father, Ralph, would have said if he’d still been alive. Hopper’s dad had been killed at work. He was an armoured car driver and had lost his life when he braked hard to avoid a cyclist. The sudden stop caused a pallet filled with about a hundred 25-pound boxes of quarters to break free from it’s bindings. It slid forward from the back of the truck to the cab. Ralph was crushed into the steering wheel when the boxes hit from behind. He was killed instantly.

Tonight, though, Hopper wasn’t concerned with his father’s death. He was poised to perform at “Midnight Microphone”. A writer’s and performer’s venue held once a month at The Eldorado Hotel and Ballroom, downtown. A huge venue, a fuckin’ barn! Probably holds 6 or 7 hundred people, easy and always crowded for this event. It made him nervous.

After showering, Hopper shaved and wished that he could grow a beard. His Momma told him that maybe when he was a little older he’d be able to. His father, after all, had had to shave twice a day, but Hopper was almost 19 years old. He didn’t want to wait any longer.

“Oh well, can’t be helped,” he thought.

Checked his reflection in the mirror,

Ran his fingers through his wet hair.

Dressed carefully in his grey plaid skinny suit. He donned his waistcoat patterned in a blue and turquoise floral.

A thin grey leather necktie.

Downstairs he made himself a peanut butter and jelly burrito, strawberry jelly. He sat on the couch with Momma and they watched a little of her favourite TV game show, the $10,000 Pyramid.

“What are you up to tonight, Hopper? All dressed up; shaven and shorn? You look like you’re up to something.”

“I’m doin’ the Midnight Microphone tonight, Momma. I’ve got a bit of the stage fright. Butterflies, you know.”

His Momma took both his hands in hers. She looked at him for a while and then grinned, “Can I hear your poem?” she asked.

He pulled a folded sheet of paper from his suitcoat pocket, opened it, looked down, cleared his throat, and began to read.

“She was long and lean, spindly. She walked with a gangly gait.
She kept a small pistol within easy reach at all times and; she didn’t own a car.
She was a con and a charlatan, who ran a three card Monte game. A different corner every day

“on a cardboard box…
easy to fold away…
easy to move if it got too hot…

“We became embroiled with one another when I was sixteen.
She was twenty-one.
She gave me my first kiss.

“She tasted of rye and cigarettes.
I was smitten.”

Momma swiped at her eyes, “You know you should have it memorized for the show?”

“Yes, Momma.”

“You’re talking about that Ward girl, aren’t you? That red-headed girl, her name was Irene or Eileen? I knew that girl was a bad influence. I should have put a stop to that when she first started coming’ around.”

The prompts were:

  1. don’t tempt me, baby
  2. midnight microphone
  3. tear stained letter

OLWG · writing

OLWG#154- I’m Not a Rich Man

This piece was written for OLWG#154

The Circle Line to Kensington

On my lap, I clutch

A bunch of flowers, carnations and daisies
A bottle of cheap Spanish plonk
A small box of chocolates
A £10 note

The High Street stop for me

Got a call this morning from a Ms Emsworth

She says that she found my Flapjack

Got my number off his tags

She says that she thought he was missing me

Says she thought I should come pick him up

She says that any kind of reward would be appreciated

The prompts were:

  1. I can’t shake this
  2. lost dogs
  3. on the way to Kensington

OLWG · writing

OLWG#153- Revenge

This piece was written for OLWG#153

Maj woke cold and wet, not an unusual condition for a Finfolk mermaid. She looked forward to the day that she and her sister, Ægir, had planned.

They were going to visit the rocks off the Coast of Karmøy Island. There they would sit and sing sweet songs in order to lure sailors to their deaths; after having their way with them, of course. Karmøy was a good place to find sailors. Mariners were always lonely. Some, who missed their women, and still others who easily fell prey to a sweet voice and a bare breast; were the easiest to catch. Of course there were risks.

Their younger sister Gna had fallen in love with a lonely sailor. She had foolishly lead his ship away from the rocks where his death had been all but certain. Gna had been a fool and had ultimately been killed by her seaman, gutted with his ubiquitous folding clasp knife; she had died a horrible death. Yet another reason for Maj and Ægir to do what they did.

The prompts were:

  1. woke up cold and wet
  2. a drop of blue paint
  3. so alone