OLWG · writing

OLWG# 297- Clouds Make the Wind Blow

Written for OLWG #297

Remember when we would go to Paris
We would ride the Metro
A few Francs or a couple of Euros
We could go anywhere we desired

The Metro was our means of transport
It wouldn’t exist if Parisians didn’t need to get around

When clouds need to travel
They can ride the wind
A few Euros or a couple of bob
They can go anywhere they desire

The wind is their means of transport
The wind wouldn’t exist if clouds didn’t need to get around

This week’s prompts were:

  1. yeah, technically it’s illegal
  2. how does she act around children
  3. clouds make the wind blow

OLWG · writing

OLWG# 287- Justine

Written for OLWG# 287

What kind of wine does one serve a ghost?
Not the cheapest wine.
Neither, the top shelf;
not for the likes of Justine.

Justine, whose
frank point of view,
ready wit,
reckless nature,
inimitable good temper,
and high spirits
were known far and wide.

Justine, whose indiscretions appealed to an entire generation, long past, that welcomed her as the antithesis of Puritanism.

I expect her to visit my room tonight so,
I’ve laid in fine cheeses, oysters, and caviar.
I’ve considered
a Sauvignon Blanc,
or an Albariño?
(a reliable ‘go-to’ with seafood)
Perhaps, dry Riesling?

No, Champagne! I’ll pick up a bottle at Walmart.
The bubbles should contrast with the soft texture of the oyster.
The umami flavours of both should work together.

What to wear?                                                   

This week’s prompts were:

  1. ghosts in my room
  2. the cheapest wine
  3. what were we thinking?

OLWG · writing

OLWG# 286- Three Thoughts at Random

Written for OLWG# 286

Roadside Attractions

Dad, can we visit the world’s largest ball of string?
Do I look like Lewis and Clark?

Visiting the US

Exchange students! Young, high school aged girls – cute and giggly. They came into the shop in two waves of three. The first was from Germany, next – España, third was Italian. Then came Japan, Czechoslovakia, and a mystery country (I believe she was a bit shy as she scarcely spoke). I took the time to talk with her, and the mystery country turned out to be Greece. The young lady was from Kefalonia. Years ago, Mattie and I had stayed a month, or so, in her Grandfather’s hotel on the island’s south coast.

Turns out that we may have known her mother, too; she was called Anthea. Anthea had lived and worked at the hotel. She was the only one there who spoke English, and may have carried our luggage when we arrived, although she couldn’t have been more than eight years old at the time.


Cold this morning, when I woke, my Weather app told me it was 10O F at 0600.
At 0830, I left for the bookstore and noticed, beneath the pecan tree, lay a thick blanket of brown leaves.
Yesterday the leaves were on the tree.
They were a light shade of yellow.

The cold took ‘em, ever’ one.

This week’s prompts were:

  1. Lewis and Clark
  2. living in a cheap hotel
  3. the woman he’d met in Greece

OLWG · writing

OLWG# 284- Nat

Written for OLWG# 284

I first met Natalie on a Friday night in late November of 1983. She leaned against the window of the DP next door to the Dominion Theatre on Tottenham Court Road in Camden. She was dark-skinned. Her complexion consisted of all the colours that make midnight. That is, if you were to look away from the full moon hanging low in the eastern sky.

 Peter Tosh was playing that night.

 Natalie and I soon fell into an easy banter, and we hung together during the show. Afterwards, we ran through the rain and shared a drink at a tiny, non-descript place in Soho. We shared a mattress on the floor of her flat in Brixton. In the morning, we shared a breakfast and made plans for later that day.

 That evening as agreed, I knocked on her door just before dark. We were going for dinner. She came to the door wearing nothing but a smile. We missed out on dinner, but we played Strip Monopoly all night. She won the last time I landed on ‘Fleet Street,’ but I felt that I had won as well and that she had wanted that.

In total, Natalie and I shared almost a month. She disappeared before Christmas that year. Looking back, I realize I should have seen it coming, but I was blind and taken by surprise. One afternoon, I went to Brixton, but her space was empty. Empty save for a single sheet of lined paper ripped from the pad she always kept next to her bed. It read


This week’s prompts were:

  1. truth becomes imperative
  2. you wanted more
  3. we played Monopoly all night

OLWG · writing

OLWG# 283- Dinner Out

Written for OLWG# 283

A rhinestone chain ran from her cat-eye glasses to the nametag she wore pinned to her light blue uniform with white trim and turquoise piping.

The nametag read “Marge.”

She had three water glasses in each hand and set them down on the table in front of us. My brother began passing them around. In the pocket of the short white apron that she had fastened tight around her waist, she carried her order pad, at least three stubby pencils, and a handful of nickels and dimes.

“Good evening. Welcome to “The Wild Pigeon Cafe. Can I get you something to drink?”

“What’s the Special tonight?” Dad.

“Tonight, we have a delicate macaroni pasta topped with a provocative American cheese sauce. It comes with your choice of sides. You could opt for a heavy slab of Murray’s famous meatloaf or a lightly breaded and deep-fried fish stick from the refrigerator section at the Farm Store.”

Hmmm, Dad mused, and Mom scowled when Marge flashed her pearly whites at him.

She kept on with her pitch, “The pasta pairs well with Coca-Cola or, not surprisingly, with our sweet tea, too. I’ll give you a little time to decide and then take your dinner orders when I come back with your drinks.

She pulled out her pad and one of the yellow stubby # 2’s and glared back at my mother, waiting for a drink order.

This week’s prompts were:

  1. this was a mistake
  2. a provocative cheese sauce
  3. if you close your eyes

OLWG · writing

OLWG# 282- prosimetric

Written for OLWG# 282

Camila could hear the loud, discordant, hardcore punk music wailing as soon as she steered the 1965 Ford LTD into the sprawling apartment complex parking lot. She instinctively and immediately knew what it was. She parked, left the groceries in the car and scrambled towards apartment 125C, the apartment she shared with her on-again / off-again boyfriend, Floyd, the songwriter. The front door was open. From the stereo, raucous music screamed at a volume adjusted to approximately three dB above the threshold-of-pain. Floyd wore only his “Y fronts” and was seated on the piano bench singing some song that didn’t go with the music, idly plinking on the white keys; an empty whisky bottle lay at his feet.

“Oh, no, no, no, no,” Camila wailed.

“Floyd?” She yelled, but he didn’t hear her. His attention focused on the television, where girls in miniskirts with beehive hairdos and high white boots were gyrating on screen. She picked her way across the living room floor and turned off the stereo. Floyd looked up at her and smiled. Camila dashed across the room and shut off the TV. The room was silent except for Floyd, plinking on the keyboard and singing an improvisational sheebop bowww bebop woww skiba deba dedo owww. A degenerating dog-end floated in half a glass of whisky that sat atop the upright piano, which, in turn, sat against the staircase.

“Floyd!” she yelled. But she stopped when she heard the knocking at the open door. Two uniformed police officers stood framed on the stoop. Camila rolled her eyes.

opposites attract…
the artist, the conformist
understanding / love

This week’s prompts were:

  1. Oh, no no no no
  2. watching “Ironsides” on TV
  3. counting my toes

OLWG · writing

OLWG# 280- Shame about Ms Chetham

Written for OLWG# 280

Don’t go pokin’ around under the clematis.
There’s a nest of rattlesnakes and firebugs under the pergola.
Ms Chetham found ‘em last week,
She’s still out there.

I called the sheriff’s office, but Sheriff Ventura, well,
he’s at some kind of lawman convention upstate.
Marge tole me, on the phone, that he’s due back in a couple days and
she’ll dispatch him out to investigate first thing, he gets back.

All we can do now is wait. Shame about Ms Chetham.

This week’s prompts were:

  1. rattlesnakes and firebugs
  2. she slipped away
  3. pieces of one another

And because we were owed some prompts:

  1. I’ve lost my St Christopher
  2. change the words to this poem
  3. I guess I do

OLWG · writing

OLWG# 279- Sorry, I Couldn’t Sleep

Written for OLWG# 279

Marty woke up cold.
It was still dark out.
“What time is it?”


She threw the blanket back,
sat up, and spun on the edge of the bed
to pull on her slippers.

POP                      POP                      POP

She could see the glow of the kitchen light down the hall.


“Damnit, Pat!” She yelled,
“You went back to that discount firework stand, didn’t you?”
She padded down the hall and there sat Pat.
Eating white powder doughnuts and drinking beer;
lighting Black Cats with a punk and tossing ‘em out the window.

POP, POP,POP                  POP

“What time is it?” Marty hollered.
“Donuts? Did you buy doughnuts?
What the fuck?”
Pat lifted the box of doughnuts and offered ‘em to Marty
Tossed a few more Black Cats out.


Marty reached for the box of pastries,
“Don’t you have any whisky?” she asked.
Pat’s head shook – side to side,
“No hard stuff left.
Only beer. You wanna play?”


This week’s prompts were:

  1. soft liquor
  2. discount fireworks
  3. when I’m fast asleep

OLWG · writing

OLWG# 277- Dante’s Adventure

Written for the 12.Sept.2022 meeting of The Missing State Group and OLWG# 276

Dante got up that fateful morning, took his breakfast and started walking into the sun.

He was heading to the horizon on a fool’s adventure.

After what seemed like hours he happened upon an apple tree where he stopped to rest.

He plucked an apple, or two, or three, and when his belly was full he leaned against the trunk of his provider, the tree and closed his eyes.

He slept. When he awoke the sun was high and he was hungry again.

More apples. More sleep.

Upon awakening the second time it was dark and Dante feared he had been transported to a faraway land, fraught with dangers that he could only imagine. Disoriented, he stood and began walking again and after a time he came to a farm house.

It looked just like his father’s house. Dante advanced and knocked on the door; surprised when his father answered.

“Father,” he exclaimed, “I have returned after my journey around the world. You know, I am truly surprised that the world is not bigger than I have found it to be.”

“Come inside son and rest.” His father opened his arms to embrace Dante. “You must be exhausted after your journey and circumnavigation of the globe. I’ll grill some burgers and we can have a couple ‘a beers.”

Dante smiled and vowed to record his epic adventures for posterity.

This week’s prompts were:

  1. a fool’s adventure
  2. everything’s broken
  3. in a hotel some place
  4. horizons