Here is my entry for THE RONOVAN WRITES WEEKLY HAIKU CHALLENGE.
Winged warrior flaps
In feline ninja’s sharp teeth.
Both shall pay the price.
Ronovan Writes #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge CCCII: Bat&Cat
Category Archives: The Stories
Fandango’s Flash Fiction Challenge # 62
So this post is an exercise in response to Fandango’s Flash Fiction Challenge.
I have been wanting to take up writing challenges like this again, and now I have some time to do it. This challenge involves writing a flash piece (usually under 250 -300 words) inspired by a picture. Here is this week’s photo.
To read all the other submissions click on the underlined link above.
Here is my attempt:
The Bulletin Doorway
For the last week Tom had been drawn to the bulletin board just outside his physics classroom. It started as a tickle in the pit of his stomach on Monday. By Tuesday he was almost forced to stop and gaze at each of the pages stuck helter-skelter across the surface of the board. Wednesday and Thursday the the bulletin board danced through his dreams. With each dream Tom awoke in a cold sweat with the “@” sign strangely burned into his mind’s eye.
Friday came. Tom had all he could do to sit through physics class. When at last the bell rang Tom nearly knocked a girl in a green snow hat over as he barreled through the door to gaze, once again, at the bulletin board. Students jostled him as the mad rush to get to final period came and went.
The last bell rang. The hall grew quiet and then Tom saw the “@” sign stamped at the top of three bulletins tacked to the board. Each bulletin had two words on it. Tom read them aloud in order as he somehow knew he should.
“Now the… Visionary says…Be opened!”
The girl in the green hat whom he had nearly stomped in physics class stood beside him.
“I’ve been waiting for you to figure it out all week. You are the slowest visionary I have ever walked with.” She said.
Then she took his hand and the door opened before them. Without another question Tom stepped through and was gone.
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A Dream of Soldiers
I am prone to vivid dreams and visions. I don’t share most of what I dream. I’m not sure most is worth sharing. But I feel like the time is coming when I will be sharing more of them with my readership. Here is one for the new DREAMS AND VISION CATEGORY:
In my dream on April 12, I walked into a circle of soldiers. All of them were from the same army. They had been frozen in place in the circle and had become like lead. I noted that these soldiers from the same army were fighting each other, but they were in a circle facing each other not drawn up in battle lines. Their faces were frozen in rage and each was in a various position of aggression. I noted that one side of the circle seemed more aggressive and violent than the other, but that they were all ready for battle. The center of the ring was carpeted with dead leaves . The scene around the ring of soldiers was a burned dead forest.
What do you see from the dream?
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Moving A Season
April 17.
Spring
Was called for almost a month ago.
Flowers
And Showers
Are supposed to be our lot now.
But
I Am
In the storehouses of the snow.
This place
Says, “no”
To the new.
Old
Wineskins
Die hard,
Even in the temples which worship new growth.
When
The Mystery gets used to what was
Spring
Cannot find its Space.
But
I Am
Not
Staying in the storehouses of the snow,
Insists
“Wine flow,
In
Daffodils
And lilacs.
Survive.
Crack
Those old
Casks and finally
Burst Forth!”
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April 3, 1989- Haibun
On April 2, 1989 your water broke, but you wanted to wait. We couldn’t imagine what for; So your mother and I rode the roads. We bumped the bumps just to jog your willingness. Still you refused to attend your life.
Then the doctors called us in. PIT got the process going even as the procession paraded in. Nana and Grampa and Aunt Nicole, even Bii Chadbourne were all there with the doctors and nurses that come part and parcel of every birthing center. Then you popped into the world. What you wanted was an audience.
April 3rd
1989
You were born.
This poem was written in honor of my son. Today is his 31st birthday.
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Thunder
Last night thunder came
It broke the sky brought the rain
My soul is still not
Clean. Emotion’s sheen clings
Shattering expectations.
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And So I Turned Right
On most days at 3,
I step out my front door
To do my duty.
My little dogs go ahead.
They know the usual way.
We turn left, then left
At the Summer Street signpost.
Down to the white house.
Tip our hats to our friend Pearl.
The lady who smokes outside.
Pandemic days come
And turn the world upside down.
Pearl stays inside now.
The Summer Street sign is gone,
Inexplicably just gone.
And so I turned right,
Yesterday instead of left.
I went to the park.
Empty space. Social distance.
It’s a new experience.
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White Russian
I sit somewhere.
Between joy and sorrow
Mixing White Russians in my mind,
I’m never sure where that is
Exactly.
Hope?
Despair?
Good?
Evil?
It’s like tipping one back
At church.
Exactly.
Faith?
Works?
Wrong?
Right?
She sits beside me.
Stirring her own
Fancy Umbrella drink
She says,
“Rest.”
“Relax.”
“Just.”
“Be.”
“Exactly.”
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THE SKINNY
Icarus, Juggernaut and the Rock
My God, My God?… We, Called Out, wrapped in red, white and blue Why have you forsaken?… We plunge from a precipice into the orange sun. His waves burn. Amber grain, Why are you so far away?… We are upside down Icarus. So few remember the story now that liturgy has been Pushed aside. Everyday I call… A juggernaut breaks down three houses. Every night I lift my voice… The fourth estate is Poisoned. Is this the One who relies on the Lord?… Icarus tumbles. It is better than good. We crash. We die on that Solid Rock. Let the Lord save him… The Juggernaut comes at The Rock…The Rock that crushes….the Rock that cannot be moved.
Let the Lord rescue him….
Lillie-Put 