Linda Kruschke’s Paint Chip Challenge this past week requires us to use ten of the following:
sunflower, watermelon, pool, in your eyes, clear skies, before the rain, margarita, hot sauce, zest for life, heavenly, sunshine, total eclipse, out of the blue, the whole enchilada, and yellow brick road
Loss
In your eyes I saw clear skies before the rain that day. All left at once out of the blue, the sunshine and the sunflower, too, the hot saucezest for life I knew. Our margarita laughing pool shut down. You went away.
I submitted the following nonsense poem to Chel Owen’s A Mused Poetry Contest. The contest theme is “a silly poem about an unusual eccentricity”. It is still open for those who want to enter.
Moon Dancing
The night sky is clear and the full moon is bright. It’s nutty I know but I’ll dance in its light. The moon doesn’t care. “Yes, I do.” Well, so what? “You’re nutty enough.” No, I ain’t. “You’re a nut.”
Blue Ridge Parkway Near Laurel Springs, North Carolina
Dale offers the “freestyle” theme this week for the Cosmic Photo Challenge which means post anything you want. These were taken at the Chicago Botanic Garden.
Dale offers the prompt “buildings of the past” for this week’s Cosmic Photo Challenge. The photos are from an old home preserved in a park in northern Illinois.
A tiny trinket out of jade deceptively was smoothly made. I bought it. Why? I do not know. My dreaming mind got caught, went slow. I wonder now how much I paid.
There’s quicksand by the pearly gates for those who wander off the way, who love the breezy, sleazy mud. Then pleasure pops – another dud. On pins and needles now they say, “Let’s try again!” And there they stay.
I wrote this poem for Linda Kruschke’s Paint Chip challenge. The challenge word was “swamp”.
On top the swamp is plain to see – below, a rotting misery. The light green algae doesn’t know. The darkness doesn’t want to show the fruits of deep, defiling sin. There’s quicksand should you venture in.
The jack-o’-lantern’s hollow nose turned darkly down on Antique Rose. Its scornful eyes pierced Mistletoe. Its toothy mouth warned them to go: “It’s easy peasy in the street Where greens and pinks and yellows meet.” But pleasure wasn’t why they came. No morbid magic, flashing flame Could substitute for righteous light. They stood their ground, prepared to fight.
The jack-o’-lantern burnt all night.
Its pride at dawn collapsed within. Mistletoe knew they would win And so did joyful Antique Rose. Their faith like Mustard Seed’s still grows.