Writer. Feminist. Historian. Person.
an abundant yield for all
freedom’s promise broken
they hail words once unspoken
cheering as we fall
in the face of shameless cruelty
a promise made each night
not to yield the endless fight
as we march for liberty
Thanks for the prompts: YIELD and PROMISE
Those are lovely. But strange. All alone. Wonder where they came from.
It’s so he can find her.
Who?
The fisherman.
Fisherman? What are you going on about?
Everybody knows the story. He went out the day before his wedding. Never came back. I guess she cracked cause later she walked into the sea. Left her wedding bouquet on the shore, so he’d know where to find her. Just in case he ever came back. Ever since, her flowers show up every year.
Oh no. That’s so sad!
Hah! Got ya. You’re such a sappy sucker. They grow all over.
(100 words)
PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook
Thanks to Rochelle and Friday Fictioneers for my Fisherman’s FF inspiration.
vibrating, I walk
my heart tinged by tragedy
greed cracks earth’s spirit
but your presence calms despair
strings of resistance lift all
It’s Sunday Whirl time! Let’s keep HOPE alive!
what if magic is the true key
not illogical or absurd
but the spell that sets us all free
what if magic is the true key
where you and I awoke as we
ideas shared with a secret word
not illogical or absurd
what if magic is the true key
Inspired by many things including the RDP prompt (ABSURD) and the call to visualize joy, for which I chose the Seasons of Enchantment card. It brought to mind my happy place: a magical world where joy abounds.
Plus, I’m still having fun with the Triolet, which is an 8-line poem where lines repeat in a beautiful rhythm:
Lines 1, 4, and 7 are the same, and lines 2 and 8 are also repeated.
The rhyme scheme looks like this: ABaAabAB (uppercase = repeated lines).
If you’d like to make it a little trickier, try writing each line with 8 syllables (iambic tetrameter, the classic French style) — or challenge yourself with 10 syllables per line (the English version). I chose the 8-syllable version tonight.
a sigh at sunset
the day’s challenge a standoff
our future unknown
the winter sun glows
fire and ice caught in the gleam
and the day lingers
Tina Stewart Brakebill 