#Flashfiction Challenge for Carrot Ranch Literary Community #Poetry

November 14: Flash Fiction Challenge

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November 14, 2019, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story using storm windows. It can be literal on a house, but also consider other portals, even spaceships or submarines. Can you make it into something new or build a story around something historical? Go where the prompt leads!

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In England we don’t have storm windows

We have triple double glazing

Which distorts the view outside something terrible

They’re only good for keeping out the cold and sound

Looking at the moon at night, you will see three

I can’t imagine needing them for the kind of winds

That sound like an angry animal

Trying to take the house brick by brick

Tornados, snowstorms the size of mountains

Whiting out the familiar, trapping families

In their homes, enforced imprisonment

By the local weather

I watch Chasing Tornados on TV

Wondering how it would feel to be up close…

©anitadawes

Crazy… #Poetry

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Image by Pixabay.com

 

 

Crazy

Do you suffer as I do?

With a melody in the back of your mind

With words you cannot find

Taking the 45 bus to Brixton

A middle-aged woman in the seat behind you

Humming the tune in your head

Do you ask her, only for her to say

She has no idea why it’s in her head

Days later you’re passing a building site

Where the tune is being whistled

by a burly bricklayer.

He too cannot answer your question

A child in the playground, skipping to your tune.

You end up standing in a record shop

Humming it for the assistant

He places an EP on the record player

It’s the tune from an advert,

no longer stuck in your head

The title of which was ‘Many Rivers to Cross.’

It almost drove me crazy

I wondered if we had all crossed the same river…

©anitadawes

 

#Jaye’s Journal ~Week 46

Jaye's Journal x12

 

The day of my hospital check-up had arrived, and I felt oddly apprehensive. I had been worrying (just a little bit) that this might be the year that the mammogram would not be clear. Whether I thought four years clear might be pushing it a bit, I don’t know, or maybe it was because they had called me early?

For four years, I have been summoned the week before Christmas, so today’s appointment felt strange, even before I got there.

It was cold and wet as we travelled to Portsmouth, and I forced myself to think about everything else, determined to ignore the feeling of dread that had been following me around like a stray dog for days.

Turns out my summons was just for a check-up chat, and that the mammogram will be next month, like always.

The doctor gave the boobs the once over, checking the lymph nodes lumps and for lumps, and found nothing untoward, whatever that means these days.

All in all, this pointless visit (to me, anyway) made a four-hour hole in my working day, and I was already playing catch up.

But that’s life, isn’t it?

 

I read something the other day, something that made a lot of sense when I thought about it. These days, having a good think almost needs an appointment, but I digress.

Apparently, if you concentrate too much on all the small details, you will never get anywhere and end up going around in circles. A bit like I have been doing all week!

We must keep our eyes on the horizon… the one major goal that shines brighter than anything else, for if we allow our concentration to wander, even a little, we will end up getting nowhere, or worse, in the wrong place entirely.

I have a lot of plans in my head now, but my major goal isn’t at the top of the list. I had thought it would get there all by itself if I got all my ducks in a row!

 

My muse is clearly frustrated and wants to be writing. If I am honest, so do I.

I miss the daily discipline!

 

So, I don’t seem to be progressing much lately, most of the things I plan to do are proving both difficult and downright impossible. Maybe I am getting too old, at least I hope that’s all it is. Everything is either too complicated or takes too long, and my patience is wearing a bit thin.

My enthusiasm has given up and taken a walk, and I sincerely hope it won’t stay away for too long!

Tomorrow I will pull up my socks and get organised…

And that is a promise to myself that I intend to keep!

©jayemarie

 

Freedom… #Poetry

 

 

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Image by Pixabay.com

 

Freedom

Gipsy winds painted caravans

Horses that shine like shoe polish

A way of life that many frowns upon

others secretly wish they had

I am talking about true Romany pride

The open countryside they leave clean

like the homes they live in

to be caged by four walls

a death sentence

much the same as it was

for the American Indians.

I would love to go back to a time

when we take only what we need,

to run wild with the buffalo

and live free with nature.

Not just in small increments.

To chase that open road.

Alas, I can only dream…

aaaaa

From her Mind… #Poetry

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From her Mind

I have in my many years seen shit float

Heard it speak many languages

So the other day I was surprised

When my granddaughter asked

“Nana, if the moon takes light from the sun

Does she cry tears of gold?”

I was taken back by this for a moment

Unsure how to answer

“I believe the moon has shed tears of many colours

Over the millions of years, she has sailed across our sky.”

She seemed content with my answer.

Aged six, I wondered where her thoughts came from

She carried on with her painting

Later, I placed her small picture on my fridge

The full moon in a dark sky, below, the land

a strange quilt of many colours

A twisted kaleidoscope

As I looked at it, I wondered

What kind of adult she will become…?

©anitadawes

#Wordle ~ 429 #Poetry

 

 

 

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Looking at the thick diamond crusted sky

It’s true what they say about the dark

It moves, there’s something living within

Slowly marching across my lawn

Holding my warm glass of milk

I like to look at the world outside before bed

The edge of my glass tasted salty

I wondered if Mrs Mack had been

Preparing her supper before bringing it to me

I knew she would take a glass of her favourite brew to bed

No looking at the stars for Mrs Mack

That would be a waste of good sleep time

How much beauty does she miss with her practical mind?

The way my luscious green lawn looks almost black at night

Standing there, reminding myself to write the cards for the gala

By rights, I should have written them yesterday

Clouds fell away from the face of the moon

Changing the lawn from black to silver

Chasing some of the dark shadows away…

©anitadawes