Trees aglow, shining bright —
Children’s plays, snowball fights —
Wreaths and creamy donuts —
Hot cocoa and wrapped gifts —
‘Tis the season.
Oh, the Humbug!
December has just begun, but the seasonal spirit is everywhere. So I’m joining in with a skeptical Christmas poem. What do you think?
Fried potatoes with fresh baked meat –
Let us give thanks, all excluding the regretful vegan.
Thanksgiving isn’t our holiday, but since a larger part of the world gave thanks yesterday, I thought of chipping in with this piece. I’ve tried a different version of the Landay, and though I’ve broken a few rules, it was fun.
Hope you all had a great Thanksgiving.
National Blog Posting Month – #Day28
Born in Atlanta —
To a Swedish mother
And a Welsh father.
Started speaking when in Moscow,
Set little steps in Morroco.
Landed in an Irish high-school,
Passed an English junior-high.
Built an American corporate,
Lived with a Canadian model —
Married to a Mex dancer,
Fathered a confused offspring —
And died rootless — the nomad.
My response to this week’s Weekly Writing Challenge. I didn’t want to go with anything serious, and so I came up with this little poem-story of a nomad to add to my collection of Flash Fiction. Also it’s National Blog Posting Month – #Day27
No one was around to see him so what did it matter if he took just one? – Today’s Author
Crouching low, he picked a single blossom.
Clara loved flowers next to her hospital bed.
Another prompt from Today’s Author. National Blog Posting Month – #Day22
He pulled the book from the shelf and a letter slipped out of its pages and fell to the floor.
Picking it up, he saw it was an old postage letter, neatly sealed and addressed to someone he couldn’t recognize. The ink had been smudged with the lack of human touch, and the paper was light between his fingers.
He turned it over in gentle hands, wondering who Dearest Josephine was. As far as he knew, there had been no one by that name in his family. Who then, was Josephine?
After a moment’s quandary, curiosity forced him to tear the letter open. A white feather fell from within the folded letter. Picking it up with a smile on his lips, he placed the feather on his desk and sat down to read the letter.
There, in slanting tiny letters, was a note —
Dearest Josephine,
I know I should have told you earlier, but I couldn’t bring myself to face you. Every time I saw into your blue eyes, my heart skipped a beat – or two. Words failed me. Your eyes drank in my youth, making my spine tingle with emotion.
I know I should have told you earlier, but you seemed beyond my reach. I was just your manservant, and though you treated me like the best of your friends, I couldn’t face myself to confess that I wanted more.
I know I should have told you earlier, at least when you prepared for your marriage with that wealthy weasel. I knew you didn’t want him, I knew of your tears, of those sleepless nights that led to your marriage. The coldness in your eyes, when you told me of your fate —
Oh, I know I should have told you earlier, not to woo you, but to offer freedom, from your father. I could have taken you, away to where you most desired.
I know I should have told you earlier — I could have saved you.
I’m sorry, Josephine. I love you.
X.
He folded the letter with a quizzical expression. “Dearest Josephine,” he whispered to himself. “What’s your story?”
Taking out a fresh notepad from his desk drawer, he began writing.
———–
“Welcome to Entertainment Now, and on top news today – renowned author breaks writing block! Mark Stephenson launches his latest novel, Dearest Josephine — A Life to Remember. Critics say, it’s his best work yet!”
For some time now, I’ve been following Today’s Author where they periodically give us one-line prompts. I’ve been wondering if I was in the writer’s block zone and so, when I opened my mail to this prompt, I decided to try it. This is the first time I’ve responded to one of their prompts – and it was just so spontaneous.
National Blog Posting Month – #Day19
The Chaos Within 