99 words, no more, no less. It’s a simple constraint, an easy-to-master literary art form, and a powerful writing tool for creatives and entrepreneurs. Writers calibrate the usefulness and beauty of 99-words through weekly flash fiction challenges.
April 2, 2020, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story that includes pizza. It can be an original pizza pie (or slice) or something pizza-like. Go where the prompt leads!
No food in the shops
The cupboards are bare
My children are hungry
There is nothing to share
My stomach is rumbling
I try racking my brains
What on earth can we do while
All our energy drains?
A meat pie sounds great
A roast dinner would be better
I am being haunted by food
buttered toast would be kind
but pizza would be good
I can see it now, my mouth waters
I can smell the delicious aroma
of tomato, ham and cheese
A joy to my heart, my stomach too
Will someone bring me a pizza please?
©Jaye Marie 2020
Recently purchased two 100 foot extension cords. This poem and every poem scheduled to post in April, were written under a palm tree.
my restless heart can’t sleep
ever since she soaked my dreams
like a warm summer shower
of fireflies and fantasies
cascading radiance onto my soul
splashing away the darkness
causing my moons to shine
every sunrise to glow
my life is one sleepy blur
sleep or reality
i don’t know
just let me die of insomnia
so i continue dreaming of her
There will be a short funny post on Wednesday. Feel free to drop by and celebrate my birthday with me. xo
Trying to load a photo (been trying all day) is not working. Lots of things are not working. For me, for you, for just about everybody in the world. I may not have Clorox wipes, but I still feel lucky. We have a home, we have food, we are able to pay our bills. So many can’t.
Still, lucky as I am, life is difficult now. I’d like to just Stay Home, but my dad is ill, though not with coronavirus, and needs my help. I’m driving him to another doctor appointment tomorrow. I hope we don’t have to go to the drugstore again. I need to find the courage to tell him I can’t take him anywhere else. Doctor or pharmacy. That’s it.
My dad lives alone. He has masks and a grocery store next to his condo, so he’ll be okay for food. We think we have a…
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It’s Sunday morning, we have, of course, no where to go. I’m pretending to sleep in when Jane shows up to “snuggle” (i.e. asks three thousand questions and demands one million items). After a long three minutes of such talk I caved and threw my phone at her in self defense so that she could check out every filter on all the platforms my phone can offer.
The end result was this picture.
I quite like it and I’m saving it because I think it will come in handy for handling the current most common questions I get.
“How’re things going?” – see above picture.
“How’s that homeschooling thing?” – note how I can no longer smile a real smile.
“How are the kids handling it?” – check out that kids face and then you tell me.
“What’s it like with the kids home all the time?” – please note…
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To take up paint brush
Pen and colour
Is the nature of all humans.
We are artists
Created in our creators image.
Given some space
And an idea
We flow into being
*the amount of people flourishing at this time. Painting, writing, playing music, taking photos, organising, sewing, cooking, sculpting and carrying out all manner of creative projects reminds me that we are all artists at heart – it is our nature and our deepest inclination.
We just need to have the other “stuff” taken away.
This morning I spent a couple of happy hours painting a boring plastic pot for my plant. Phillip the Fiddleleaf is much happier in his new bright pot. Cost me nothing, already had the chalk paint left over from a project from a year or so ago.
I cannot recall for the life of me why I had this bright pink –…
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Some eyes see only through a darkened haze
Behind dark lenses, blinkered, self-conditioned
Blind to the dancing joy where rainbows arc
Afraid to see the colours life commissioned.
Some eyes see far in pastel coloured glory
Leaving life behind them as they sail
Upon a golden mist of wonder in the morning
To reach a world that glows behind the veil.
Some eyes look inwards, seeing only self
Or mirrored images of other eyes
Colouring their vision with their fears,
They live in hope that every mirror lies.
Some eyes are dull and lifeless, hold no light,
No spark within, of happiness bereft,
All joy extinguished by the flow of tears
As sorrow weighs the pittance they have left.
Some see with certainty in monochrome
In black or white there is no compromise,
No shade of grey compassion in their glance,
No empathy or kindness in their eyes.
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