Weekly Short Stories Contest and Company! discussion

Excellent, Jim! Bring on Dexter-how good is season 8?!

the puzzle complete
but for one piece, Emily's
heart, to M bequeathed

Ryan, I deleted my Dexter comment, sorry. I'm quite behind on the seasons. Don't tell me anything.

-o-

I don't want to follow that up at the moment... about to have lunch. haha

I wouldn't dream of it, Jim ;)

What’s more likely than
that such a goon has captured
fair Emily’s heart?

To fly on a dust
pan to the moon and find they’ve
opened a Wal-Mart.

From her eyes looked the
soul he’d lost in halls of a
locked-away childhood.

A soul battered by
a betrayal, limping through
life, unrelenting.

Vowed to take revenge,
to claim what once was his - the
dust pan and Wal-Mart.

..I'm off to bed, goodnight! :)

Goodnight, Leslie, and intriguing dreams, the kind that furnish material for poems and short stories!

I motored down to
Sal’s Fresh Mart as an evening
simmered in its dregs.

What giggled from my
shopping cart? A buxom blonde
with jaw-dropping legs.

No sooner had I
gone back outside and wheeled the
cart beyond the curb,

I glimpsed my wife. Yes,
she had spied--hands on her hips--
the hors d’oeuvres superb.

Down the freeway, a
puzzled cop studied huffing
puffing me. Reading

my license, he scratched
his head. “A shopping cart stopped
out here for speeding!”

And that, M, is why you definitely cannot cut down on your haiku-writing. So good!

Thank you, Ryan!

Fantastic, M!

Hi, Kat! Thank you. I got carried away.

Lol! This is so funny, M :))

No, you didn't! And if you got carried away, you need to do it more often!

You’re right, Kat. I really didn’t.

Good morning, Leslie!

With such great speed, he
dodges the shoe thrown by his wife-
a sport he's good at.

The moon lost her high
heels in leafy shadows before
dawn’s sleepy coffee.

she glides barefoot through
high beams in search for something
more precious than heels

That’s beautiful, Leslie!


A shadow on the
wall above me is cast in
the shape of a rune.

The old case clock ticks
a quarter till three, floodlit
by an August moon.

that early, M? :) Thank you and sorry for writing 5500, I'll edit it now..good morning!

whoops. never mind. i had a verse but it doesn't fit now. silly me for not refreshing before posting.

just post it, Kat :)

Post it, Kat!

Leslie, why the apology? If it weren’t for dodging the shoes and pots and pans hurled at me, I’d get no exercise at all.

Lol!

this is not a continuation

What a sight to wit-
ness--M dodging pots and pans
while typing haiku

I'm really sorry, can't help it..

Kat’s haiku vanished!


If, while dodging clogs
and pots and pans, you can dash
off haiku that scans,

you’re ready to face
dragons, trolls, and the bombshell
in the gleaming Rolls.

And the defining moment is the bombshell in the gleaming Rolls, yey! :)) lol!

To see the blonde bomb-
shell is a dream M doesn't
want to wake up from

Kat! :)

Goodnight!

I’m dreaming of a
sleek Ferrari just like the
ones I used to know

(except the ones I
knew were Pontiacs, worn-out
and rusting hatchbacks).

Leslie wrote: "she glides barefoot through
high beams in search for something
more precious than heels"

This is beautiful!

A great string, Leslie, M, alternating funny and elegant. Excellent start to my day.

Thanks, Guy!

M wrote: "I’m dreaming of a
sleek Ferrari just like the
ones I used to know

(except the ones I
knew were Pontiacs, worn-out
and rusting hatchbacks)."

Cars racing by me
White lines, yellow lines pass
Those no stopping devils

A sizzling continuation. Excellent, Lilian!


Through a ’Vette’s window
her pale eyes glanced back at me
in a broiling noon.

Thank you M. The same to you!

People, cars, heart beats
Pass each other so quickly
Don't recognize life

So good, Lilian and M! What to write?


to race a passed memory

The ghost car was idle.
The racer's goals had long since
become memory,
dreams of a thought of the passed
surpassed as if they stood still.

Thank you, Guy! :)

cut-out magazine
photos on the wall, flashback
of a racer's life

good morning from here!

Wake up to sunlight
And the posters on the wall
Greet me like friends

((That was a continutation of Leslie's, BTW))

These will be a challenge to follow!


Illogic bronzes
her firm legs, the question her
Lamborghini begs.

M, very sensual. Very nice. Great continuations Lilian and Leslie.


she doth bestride...

With slow easy grace
she moved her legs from the car
and stood like a god.
He watched her from his Honda,
awed at how mortal he was.

(I just realized, this doesn’t follow. My apologies, Guy. I’ll get the thread back on track after breakfast.)

With the morning’s rain,
things she’d said crawled like shadows
from under my bed.

I don't know if this will follow anything. I deleted my post earlier to edit it but I got sidetracked.

light dances in her
eyes while her face splits into
a smile from seeing
the shadows twirl around her
just before the break of dawn

A very nice image, Leslie. (I thought one had been taken down!)


As if wasp’s prey, stung,
I stared, mute, from the duct-taped
seat of my Honda,

at the short-skirted,
form-fitting suit, the Vogue eyes,
of Ana Conda.

Thank you :) hahaha that is so funny, M!

Eyes filled with horror,
he saw her shed off some skin
headlights showed her spots

???

(Leslie, that will be fun to follow!)


The silly, smoking
engine had died. Frantic, I
tried to start the car

but dropped the keys and
almost cried as she approached.
The door stuck, ajar.

The keys, knowing me
a fool, had lost their talent
for locating slots.

She was the reason
Sunday school had taught us so
many thou-shalt-nots.

Lol! M, that's hilarious :)) I'll try to follow.

Thou shall not panic
Thou shall neither lose the keys
nor forget the slot.

Thou shall not cry and
Though shall not lose sight of the
short-skirted Ana.

I’m almost afraid to follow that one . . . Almost.

I followed her as
a sacred duty: the gloss
of each fingernail,

the swung hair of this
leggy beauty, became for
me a holy grail.

LOL! So delicious, so funny. Great start to my day.

She's gorgeous, of course
For him to love a woman
She must not be me

Thank you, Guy! Lilian, that’s devasting. Because the first line could be a description of the girl in the photo, and the writing is stunning, the last line blindsides the reader. Hmm. This one won’t be easy to follow.

She was to be found
in light that slants down hallways
and old staircases.