There’s the tiniest spark of doubt,
Catching the dust on fire
Spreading like oil
Coating each thought I touch
RDP Prompt: Scintilla
Category: Word Prompt
Tuesday Music (On Tuesday this Time)
RDP: Fusty AKA moldy, musty or old fashioned.
Tuesday (I mean Wednesday) Music
RDP Prompt: Nostalgia
My brain isn’t working lately.
Marionettes
It’s as if my entire life has been an experiment, a study in indiscriminate chaos theory; Russian roulette served up with a rusty knife. It seemed the world shook out of tune. Or maybe it was me. It was just a matter of time. It’s a scientific fact that great amounts of pressure will make things crack. Some of us can taste the air and others only hear static when we speak. It’s simply theory that we’re connected like marionettes on string.
Where you pull, my heart jerks; subtle palpitations against the grain. I gathered the words to tell you but you scooped them from my tongue. I dangle above our cardboard stage.
RDP Prompt Reflection
Tuesday Needs Music
Is It You After All?
Memories are fickle little things
I watch your gait as you move through a crowd
Is it you after all?
Your laugh and your gaze
Ignite flames but the lighter clicks
And never catches hold
Of my stray dreams and gut feelings
Whenever I smell sweet smoke
Or the slightest whiff of your voice in monotone over my stereo.
Perhaps we need it this way
Perhaps time has bound our brains.
Ragtag Daily Prompt: Strain
Lovesick
I’ll never fall in love.
It’s not for me.
I’m confident
Until …
The world keeps spinning
But all I see is you.
RDP: Sick
Forgive my attempt at poetry.
Vulgar
Razor sharp chords mixed with gritty voices float from inside dark clubs and crowded bars.
A homeless man swings his Gandalf like beard as he jives down the middle of the street. His ripped shirt blows open in the breeze; giving him an underdog superhero cape made of rips and stains. One good shoe crunches into the pavement while his bare foot escapes to swing free. With palms raised to his heaven, he smiles into the oncoming storm.
It reminds me of my mother’s face; not because his inner peace oozes into the atmosphere. I can see her wrinkling nose and hear her sucking in her breath between puckered lips. I can feel her eyes cutting into my skin as she judges me from beyond.
“Such vulgarity. Here among these people, these bars … Who are you? I don’t know anymore.”
She’s always been right. Though I model her skirts and simple knit tops I’ve never been the girl she craved I would be. I drop my bag and grab the mans knotted hands. Vulgar or not, we can dance til the end.
Word of the day: Vulgar
Music: A mix of instrumental (The Echelon Effect, Lights and Motion, Chad Lawson)
In The Garden
Verdant – RDP word of the day
Music – Dirty Three – Self titled
Luscious.
Fertile.
Sasha’s garden was everything Mari could never inspire in her own. Her belly too, round with verdant life in a way Mari would never know.
Obsession.
Jealousy.
Rage in Mari’s veins blossomed as she feigned excitement for Sasha’s burgeoning life. Sasha’s roses brought home awards. Her daffodils sailed into a spotlight all their own. The baby kicked while she laughed
Inspired.
Alone.
Mari took to a rusted axe in order to get the job done.
I forgot to time myself but I intended to aim for 5 minutes to start. This probably took about that long.
Waiting
“I’ve read every last one.”
“That one?” Shari nodded to the oldest book in the pile.
“My favorite, it has every spell possible, even one to bring back the dead.”
“Wow.” Shari knew the guy was a fruit loop. “I should get going.”
“So soon? But I’ve been waiting for you for eons.”
Word Count: 53 words – 277 characters
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