Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for writing prompt #217. I have chosen to use the topic a walk in the forest, the male nam Uyeno, the female name Ulestra, the fruit a peach, the color cerise, and the sensation shiver.
Thanks to Lorraine of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting FOF. Today’s prompt, a twenty-five word story on a leprechaun for St.Patrick’s Day/Weekend.
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Credit: Lorraine 2017
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He wasn’t wee, but tall. His eyes emeralds, auburn hair thick, and his smile knowing. His Irish accent had women pouncing; his treasure wasn’t gold.
” ‘Created by Emily Romano, the brevette consists of a subject (noun), verb, and object (noun), in this exact order. The verb shows an ongoing action – so the letters in the verb should be spaced out. There are only three words in the poem.
Each of the three words may have any number of syllables, but it is desirable that the poem have balance in the choice of these words. Unlike haiku, there are no other rules to follow.'”
Thanks to the lovely Bikurgurl for hosting 100 Word Wednesdays.
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Credit: Olivier Guillard
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Deep in the woods you’re lost. Have you considered if you’ve come upon an enchanted forest? It’s difficult to comprehend when you’ve crossed the threshold from the untamed wild to land of talking animals, pixies, enchantresses, wizards, and magic folk.
It’s impossible to know after days of wandering whether that deserted cabin in the clearing is actually deserted. But with clarity, you inhale the potent herbs mingling with the scent of roasted venison and fresh bread.
Do you believe your eyes when the most sinfully attractive man approaches and offers you a cup to slake your thirst and food to fill your belly? Do you trust your senses? Have you realized yet, you’ve always been in an enchanted forest?
“When I first think of something sharp, pain comes to mind but then I think of an A sharp or a B sharp. Of course there are sharp turns, sharp angles and “He’s looking sharp.” and let’s not forget, sharp as a tack and look sharp.”
Not the sharpest knife in the drawer.
Not the brightest crayon in the box.
Boxes need opening with sharp knives.
Boxes, trapped in our boxes, locked.
Lock it up tight.
Lock it or else
Else in the morning you’re to blame
Else, you’ll lose your job, what then
Then you don’t know
Then you can’t tell
Tell nothing because
Tell nothing they say
Say you’re not bright
Say you’re a bit dim
Dim as shadow
Dim as a dark room
Rooms, you’ve not one your own
Rooms are nothing, you’re vagrant
Vagrant wandering needs people
Vagrant wandering seeking close
Close enough, no one will steal
Close enough, no one will think
Think you’re more than homeless
Think you’re more than a mistake
Mistaken once, but you’re capable
Mistaken once, but you’re smart
Smart, can you appear that way
Smart, most people aren’t
Aren’t life smart
Aren’t more than book smart
Smart, who cares when you’ve no food
Smart, who cares when you’re so cold
Cold eyes of people staring
Cold hearts of people cracking
Cracking your bubble
Cracking your safety zone
Zone of space around you
Zone of personal space
Space is all around you
Space, there is too much of it
It, means a place you can stay
It is a place called home
Home, needs a job to pay for
Home, lost because you weren’t sharp
Sharp is the knife that cuts in life.
Sharp is the knife that cuts in life.
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The Blitz Poem “The Blitz Poem, a poetry form created by Robert Keim. This form of poetry is a stream of short phrases and images with repetition and rapid flow. Begin with one short phrase, it can be a cliché. Begin the next line with another phrase that begins with the same first word as line 1. The first 48 lines should be short, but at least two words.
The third and fourth lines are phrases that begin with the last word of the 2nd phrase, the 5th and 6th lines begin with the last word of the 4th line, and so on, continuing, with each subsequent pair beginning with the last word of the line above them, which establishes a pattern of repetition.
Continue for 48 total lines with this pattern, And then the last two lines repeat the last word of line 48, then the last word of line 47. The title must be only three words, with some sort of preposition or conjunction joining the first word from the third line to the first word from the 47th line, in that order. There should be no punctuation. When reading a BLITZ, it is read very quickly, pausing only to breathe.”
Please see Shadow Poetry for further information.
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Apologies, the whole bolded text above should be indented but my WordPress App is misbehaving.
A L’Arora, a form created by Laura Lamarca, consists of 8-lined stanzas. The rhyme scheme for this form is a, b, c, d, e, f, g, f with no syllable count per line. The minimum length for the poem is 4 stanzas with no maximum length stipulation. The A L’Arora is named after Laura Lamarca as “La” is her signature. “Aurora” is Italian and means “dawn” – “Arora” is derived from this. This form is dedicated to Chad Edwards.
Thanks to Wandering Soul who hosts this challenge. You are supposed to write one or two more sentences to make a three line story with the prompt sentence. I tend to get inspired and end up with an entire story, jammed into two too long sentences. So I’m linking to her blog with my story inspired by the sentence: ” The picture on the wall was crooked; a lot like the person in it.”
The picture on the wall was crooked; a lot like the person in it. I knew the photo was of my Grandpa’s brother Jerry, who had shot himself in the foot to get out of WWII. He had only been in France a week and spent most of his active duty attempting to make himself throw-up daily, so he didn’t have to fight but could remain in the infirmary. But Jerry’s Captain realized what Jerry was up to and put him back with his company to kill German soldiers.
Sadly, it wasn’t beyond Jerry’s cowardice to hide behind other soldiers in his squadron, or use them as shields. I doubt Jerry’s company minded when he showed them a German soldier had shot him in the foot; even though his squadron knew Jerry had shot himself to get out of fighting in the War. It wasn’t as if many soldiers hadn’t thought of shooting their own foot to escape War’s reality, but most of them knew their country needed them and took their duty as a soldier with pride.
Jerry’s fellow soldiers were glad to see ‘useless’ Jerry gone. He hadn’t made any friends and most men knew being Jerry’s friend meant he would desert you when you needed help; infact, life expectancy for members in Jerry’s old company went up when Jerry was sent home with a permanent limp.
Jerry told absurd and utterly fake stories about being a War hero when he returned to his family’s house in London. Jerry had even stolen a poor dead man’s medals to make it appear as if he had been recognized by England, Primeminister Churchill, and the Queen, for defending his country.
But Jerry’s family didn’t believe his stories and doubted he had sacrificed himself to earn such high honours. Jerry’s family knew his personality, the cowardliness and cunning that always lurked behind Jerry’s every action.
War was awful and terrifying, but Jerry’s father who had fought in WWI and Jerry’s permanently wounded brother Clancy, who fought in WWII, believed Jerry should be doing his duty back in France. Soldiers were being shipped to the beaches of Normandy and neither Jerry’s father or Clancy thought the slight limp that Jerry most likely gave himself, should stop a soldier from doing his duty.
Jerry eventually left home during the War, wandering the roads in different towns, lost and afraid that death would catch up with him because he had avoided it in France. In the shadow of a pale moon, a bomb flew from the sky one night, and Jerry met his end in England, near his family’s home.
Both Jerry’s father and brother Clancy, at last we’re proud of him. The bomb from a German airplane had hit Jerry and not another person or a building full of civilians. Jerry hadn’t intended on being the bombs target, but his family felt they could remember the cowardly man with a bit of pride now.
Jerry’s photo, Grandpa Clancy said, should remind us Grandchildren to be brave and not use others because we are afraid, as Uncle Jerry had done in his life. Grandpa Clancy’s Grandchildren knew what true sacrifice was when their Grandfather showed them the stump that was once his left leg.
Clancy had never bothered with a prosthetic limb. His leg stump spoke volumes to a generation who did not realize what a sacrifice so many men had made so their children and Grandchildren could be free from men such as Hitler and his Nazis.
Clancy had loved his brother. The part of Jerry who was a scheming coward, Clancy had never been able to understand. Scared or not, a man has to do what a man had to do, especially during a War. Clancy was cheered that in death, his brother Jerry may have been brave.
Mandibelle16 
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