Weekly Short Stories Contest and Company! discussion

Leaving the harem,
I was exhausted, grinning
from such ecstacy,

only to be by
my wife accosted, who eyed
me suspiciously.

“Where have you been?” she
waved her finger. “Asking the
way,” I blithely said--

“Past the Lion’s Den,
the folk singer, is the place
that sells pumpkin bread.”

Women in corsets
and flowing sleeves we saw as
we wandered the grounds

in evening shadows
of drifting leaves and hammered
dulcimers’ old sounds.

Thanks, Alex!

These are nice, Alex! I’ll see if I can come up with some more in a little while, to follow yours. I just got in from mowing.

I need to revisit Squirrel and Penelope. I don’t know where my time goes.

We're due for a freeze any time. We've had an unusually warm autumn.

Car repairs are a nuisance! I’ve had to hitchhike at least twice, when cars I’ve owned broke down on the highway, miles from nowhere. Come to think of it, they were both Pontiacs.

------------------

He dreaded, of course,
what their parents would say when
they learned of the tryst.

The raven-headed
beauty didn’t seem to mind.
As the ash logs burned,

she leaned to be kissed,
then reached for her wine flute and
sipped her chardonnay.

He watched her watch the
moonlight flicker on the bay,
and what gleamed in her

eyes was like the glint
of firelight on the leaded,
diamond-paned window.

Nice and romantic. Nicely done Al and M. Can't help it...


He did not notice
the slight turn of her near smile,
a dark harbinger.

When the song was sung
She moved her lips and white teeth
to bite off his ear.

Al, it would seem your grim macabre writing has maybe rubbed off on me! Yikes.

A large rat squeaked and
darted from under the hutch
before she could bite.

The young man shrieked and
departed, not wearing much,
and streaked through the night.

He arrived home, near
naked, now pale and thinner,
still shaking with fright,

while at the cabin
a sleek, raven-haired beauty
finished her last bite.

Alex, what a surprise to see you in the Poetry group--and what a wonderful thing for you to post! I almost replied, “Alex! What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?” I love that old profile photo of you. It’s my favorite.

A child played alone
where the harvest moon shone and
oak leaves were falling.

I’ve gotten out of the Poetry group several times but keep rejoining because so many members of a private group I’m in keep reporting on the goings on, so I get curious. That particular thread was started by another M--an imposter!

There are lots of M’s! This particular one happens to be a know-it-all about poetry and is annoying. Just to show him what I think about his thread, I went back and, to my reply to your post, added, “What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?”

After I spun my Fiero off an Interstate, I had to have the suspension bolted back together. Misalignment is hard not only on teeth but on tires.

There was something strange
about the little girl who
danced in the shadows,

singing eerily
words only a slayer knows,
as by a sea change,

watching the woman
slinking toward her. The child
knelt in the cool sand,

then rose warily,
faced the woman, and with a
long dagger gored her.

Alex, you’re too nice for your own good. I’ve got to run errands, but I shall return!

You said it was snowing (instead of raining) cats and dogs. I had a picture of that in my mind. “There goes my cat Snowball!”

Sorry to take so long, Alex. I’ve been out mulching leaves. I’m honored that you’ve considered me for the position of moderator, even if jokingly, and if you want me to, I’ll be glad to help. To be honest, I don’t know how good a moderator I’d make. I’m not very decisive, and you’d have to show me how to set up a poll.

Wow! Thanks, Alex.

The woman felt the
shock of slicing steel and
watched her bowels tumble

steaming to the sand
and rock as from the child she
did reel and stumble.

Thank you, Alex! I don’t know about brilliant, but it’s bloody.

Time for me to crash out. I get up early. Sweet dreams--or terrifying ones--whichever kind you like best.

She saw the camera
light go off, then handed her
sword to Arnie Hoff,

then stopped and waited
for Cal to spray her hair and
smoothe what was scruffy.

When the photo lights
came back on, she waved her sword
in the cold pre-dawn:

“I’m Little Buffy
the Manitou Slayer,” she
smiled and related.

OMG you guys! Where do you find the time to write all this? Some of these are nearing true brilliance as well as being funny. I'm still stuck at work - cheating right now my writing.

Al/M do you have the link to the thread in Poetry? I'm curious. I haven't quit it, but rarely visit. Like M, that other group sometimes gets my curiosity up enough to visit, but not too often.

Again, great Haiku arc, you guys. LoLoLs :-)

The one to the poetry group M commented on. His comment has piqued my curiosity!

http://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/7...

Alex, I saw your laziness comment about me up there. I think I'm going to start doing the unicorn stuff now. Lol.

Yes! It’s too late for me. I have to get up early and iron clothes.

When you get to be as old as I am, ironing pleats in pants is a natural thing to do, something that was done in a bygone century.

Good for you, Alex! There are people who have character and manners and know how to dress, and you’ll be miserable if you settle for less than that. Take it from someone who came close more than once.

Just out of curiosity, how long does it take you to iron, M? I would NEVER wake up early just to iron my clothes. Lol.

Eww, I hated that guy you dated. I was so jealous you actually hung out more with him than me. I'm an overly protective sister... ;)

Al, I totally agree with you. A good, strong Lutheran is a must. :)

I’m not sure how to answer Hannah’s question, and I’m even less sure that I want anyone to know what a boring life I have. I get up about 4:30 a.m. and make coffee, a cup of which I take to my wife, who is a voracious reader and is usually up by then and reading a novel. She got several more packages of novels in the mail this week.

While I iron, I alternately write poetry in my head and and repeat passages of basic French from a very old book I got at a library sale. I don’t write easily sitting at a computer, but have to be doing something else, like ironing or folding clothes, or mowing, or washing dishes, or driving.

I remember a picture I saw of an elderly person threading a needle, her tongue between her teeth, as though her tongue and her hands were connected by some basic wiring of the nerves. I write better when I’m using my hands in some task that leaves my mind free.

M, that is most fascinating. 4:30? Yikes that early. I'm up at 5:20 to begin work @ 6:30, and given I'm not really a morning person - Al and I have bantered into the wee hours - there are times I struggle out of bed. Ironing would be burnt fingers!

And interesting your writing method. I can formulate ideas when doing menial tasks, but it rarely becomes anything composed. I find writing on the computer has freed my verbal imagination in a way I would not have anticipated. (Am I glad I taught myself how to properly type in the summer before grade 12!)

I would have liked her
soft skin the colour of gum
except for her name.

What is in a name?
If the name is Miss Piggy
the frog win's the game.

I actually write much better when I'm away from the computer. I just feel better with paper and a pencil.
And your life doesn't sound boring at all. It sounds very relaxing and calm.
By the way, your wife sounds very similar to me in that respect. I'm a nonstop reader, and if I had my way, that would be all I'd be doing everyday. Reading a good mystery novel or a Charles Dickens makes everything better. :)

:D Oh my goodness! Miss Piggy always makes me think of my dad. He has the Miss Piggy voice down! Lol.

Yup, showers are my thinking time too. But rarely 'creative' writing. oddly enough. Most often that is where I think about my 'serious' writing — economics and other philosophical crap.

As to the subliminal messaging, my father gave me a book when I was in grade 6 or 7. And it was about the subliminal messages in TV advertising. I remember that it had pictures of screen images with suggestive words to buy or believe this or that. Hmmm. What was the name of that book? (To give you a time frame, that would have been around 1973 or 4.)

And what is a 'unicorn'?

wow....isn't the chat supposed to go in the chat forum XD

I'll start a new haiku


The earbud slipped in-
to my ear, drowning out the
Noise of the whole world

Friday night. The smell
of a Patio Dinner.
I stretch on the chaise.

Hot enchiladas!
The TV, on Channel 8,
blurts out: Pigs in Space!

I thought that the cows
Were the ones who were supposed
To fly over the moon

Ain’t no cows in the
Milky Way. They’ve all gone to
work for Chick-fil-A.

XD lol nice one M

The temp's too short skirt
brought new meaning to anyone
landing on the moon.

What?

I’ll take it! Give me a minute. What a great haiku, Guy. It’s already one of my favorites. It’ll be hard to keep this Rated G.

LoL! Glad you enjoyed it M. And keeping it G was definitely part of the challenge for me too. Funny where thoughts go. LoL again.

The CEO made
an after-hours landing,
ready with the probe,

later to find out
a junior partner had been
the first astronaut.

RotFL!

My orbit’s decaying. I’d better hit the sack. Goodnight, Alex and Guy!

Oh, my goodness... these haikus... lol.

Goodnight M.

Brilliant M!

Here's my go. (I think they might still be PG13 - if not, Al or other moderators, I'll edit):


He probed the moon's core
but in his haste to begin,
left behind his glove.

And when he'd finished
took with him his first's error
that clapped him in bed.

“One must be careful
on the moon,” the nurse said, and
her smile made him cringe

as she told him to
pull down his pants, in her hand
a large-bore syringe.

Hahahaha! That made me laugh, Al! :D

And who's love are you referring to? Buxton's love for you or your love for him, or even his love for needles? Lol.