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 |    A log of the magnificent journey across the vast sea of my imagination. |
 A log of our magnificent journey. |
| Something in the wind takes me to another time, another place, where tides seduced and skies were blue. Something in the wind takes me to the sandy shore where seagulls flew and ocean breeze caressed my face. Something in the wind takes me to another time, another place. Notes ▼ |
He served his country with honor on military mission to defend our values. Today, he fights arthritis instead of Viet Cong. Bouncing grandson Toby on his knee, he tells alluring tales of where he has been, from Sicily to Singapore. On Sunday, he goes to church and prays for successors' safe return. Then, he watches football on TV and sips a beer or two. Although he spends a lot of time sitting on the couch with his constant companion Arthritis, his thoughts are always with those on the front line. |
| As the shadows of nightfall crept across the meadow, Rebecca rose from the rocking chair on her porch and prepared to retire for the night. Suddenly, an eerie sound coming from the nearby forest caught her attention. She knew hearing music in the woods at night was a bad sign, but it was such a pretty tune. Stepping down from the porch, she tried to identify the source. Just like the Pied Piper did in Hamelin with his magic flute, this mystic melody entranced her and led her deeper into the wilderness. As she traversed through the evening mist settling over the trail, she was accosted by a cordon of ghouls, each with the visage of a wolf and talons for hands. They enshrouded her with a tarp and carried her farther along the forest trail. Eventually, they removed the tarp when they arrived at the perimeter of an enclosure, where a group of spectral waifs danced in a circle around a huge vat. The stench of burning sulfur emanating from the bubbling substance in the vat permeated the entire enclosure. Presently, the circle was broken by two of the ghouls carrying a young man writhing and screaming in the grip of their talons. The screaming intensified as they dropped their victim into that vat of boiling fluid. Suddenly, a tall figure cloaked in black appeared beside Rebecca and asked, "Are you ready, my dear? Your turn is next." Quickly, the ghouls' talons tightened against her arms until they pierced the skin. ******************************************** 252 words Prompt: She knew hearing music in the woods at night was a bad sign, but it was such a pretty tune. |
| It's the little things with which we can relate-- the way a robin sings upon the garden gate, the creases in your hand, the pebble in your shoe-- with vision to expand and make poetic stew. |
| He missed Christmas while serving overseas, but now the family is coming together to welcome him home on leave. They will celebrate the holiday a little late this year. Still, it will be a jolly July with peppermint candy canes hung around the patio and cold chocolate milkshakes to replace traditional hot cocoa. The hot summer sun casts an eerie glow on cotton snow spread across the ground, as the joy of giving intensifies when friends and relatives deliver gifts for military still serving overseas. Notes ▼ |
| Our children sacrifice their dreams when duty screams of country's need for those who lead. The brutal consequence of war is lots of gore. When soldiers die, their mothers cry, because their kinfolk are bereft with nothing left for families but memories. Notes on the Minute form of poetry ▼ |
| Summer sings a bewitching tune about the joyful month of June for couple on their honeymoon in Montego Bay. The rhythm of the rain will affect the way the newlyweds connect, as they will frequently reflect in years to come. While Summer croons her serenade with sunrise orange marmalade, the children sell their lemonade to folks with angry thirst. She sets spectacular buffet with red strawberries on display and oysters from Chesapeake Bay, whatever you prefer. Mosquitoes, hornets, ants, and flies in humid air bring some surprise, while solar radiation fries those who venture out. My picture window reverie will capture all there is to see when deer and geese come visit me, while I stay cool inside. Somebody made Summer upset, so she vowed to make them regret. For spite, the worst you can get would be a hurricane. Notes on the Ovi form of poetry ▼ |
| Poppies pollinate here to consecrate the lives lost across the sea. Their families mourn with the poppies worn to symbolize bravery. Because heroes' blood mingled with the mud, poppies bloom in Normandy. They blanket the land where men died in sand to preserve their memory. Notes on the Alouette form of poetry ▼ |
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