I rarely descend to the existential depths of metaphysical dread. Why would anyone want to? Besides there’s nothing down there. That’s why it’s dreadful. Why get all miserable over nothing? Sanity stays on the bright surface with the breathable air and the cleansing rain. Or, to put it in other words: don’t look down–the deeper depth is toward the sky. That leads me to my problem. Although I don’t have anything particularly dreadful to write about, which should make the sophisticated and critical reader question my allegiance to the dark side, I no longer have any motivation to shut up.
SMILING LETS ONE BE
SEASONS’ PLAYFUL METERS RHYME
TIME TO LIVE FORGIVE
Text: Linked to dVerse Haibun Monday. Bjorn is hosting. Toni provided the prompt why do we write in the way we do? I am not sure if I answered it.
I am also linking this to Debbie Roth’s Forgiving Fridays because it occurred to me when I woke this morning that if I really want to levitate to a deeper depth I will have to stop weighing myself down with making sure karma is distributed equitably. There’s plenty of karma to go around.
Photos: “Water Flowers”, above, and “At the Chicago Botanic Garden”, below, by the author.
“Am I so pretty you would take a picture of me?” Yes.
Photos: “Stump”, above, and “Mundane Fungus”, below, by the author. I’ve linked both to K’lee and Dale’s Cosmic Photo Challenge with the theme “fungi” as well as trablogger’s Mundane Monday.
When I read Dale’s prompt I asked myself, “Where am I going to find a fungus?” A voice said, “Go to the botanic garden.” I replied, “I’ve never seen a fungus there. It’s too clean.” The voice responded, “Go to the woods in the botanic garden.” I walked to the Mary Mix McDonald Woods and followed the trail until it forked. “Now where?” The voice responded, “Take the boardwalk.” At the end of the boardwalk I saw the fungus. “I’ll have to step off the trail.” The voice responded, “Stop whining and take the photo.” It was the only fungus I saw all day, but I had no need to see another.
After Michael saw the ghost he understood. What he understood he would not say. True knowledge should not be made so literal that any monkey could understand it.
Anne sympathized with him but she thought his deranged prefrontal whatchamacallit generated the ghost. Otherwise why was he locked up with her?
Michael told her she could escape with him through the skylight of the cell. Anne said she would consider it. That was the only reason Michael told the ghost to wait.
Text: Linked to Sue Vincent’s #writephoto .
It is now also Story 100 in Christopher Fielden’s 81 Words, a project attempting to “set a Guinness World Record for the most contributing authors published in an anthology”. They have 102 stories so far and need 898 more as of 8:38 AM CST today.
Photo: Sue Vincent provided the photo for the prompt.
Rain is wet like water,
Not so hard as ice,
Not so hot my hand gets hot,
Messy, mostly nice.
The Sun thinks clouds are funny.
They block the warmth of day
Making fantasies up high–
Carousels turn in the sky–
Friendly, flowing play.
Text: Linked to dVerse Poetics. Lillian is hosting and the theme is to put a positive spin on “rain”, “rein” or “reign”. I am also linking this to Sue Vincent’s #writephoto prompt. Come join us in writing for these prompts.
Photo: Sue Vincent provided the photo for the #writephoto prompt.
My heart felt peaceful but constrained.
The wind blew over me.
The waves hit hard. The land complained.
I wanted to be free.
Eventually through darkened night
The waves revised their song.
I assumed it’s now all right
Though some say it’s still wrong.
Text: Linked to dVerse Quadrille. De Jackson here (WhimsyGizmo) is hosting and the word is “free”. For what it’s worth, I don’t understand the poem I wrote. I just thought it had a nice enough sound, but I might be wrong.