Weekly Short Stories Contest and Company! discussion
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Haiku
The logician wailed,“Life is confucious! Sometimes
it seems a loud zoo.”
The mystic smiled. “Fear
not the shining wire that waits
in the morning dew.”
In Haiku you twoAre my superiors
But beware of me.
It is now my plan
To out-write all your Haikus
I must live longer.
Though I hesitateto boast it, our doggerel
is quintessential,
and the rate at which
we post it can seem at times
almost torrential.
You stole all my words;Fed them to the dogs, burned them.
Who will speak for me?
Enough quintessence!We are in the third degree
Of words and thus drowned.
Beneath the dogs' breathBehind canines and slobber
You drip eloquence.
She fed my haikuto Rover when we stopped at
a filling station.
“A treat,” she giggled,
“less like Russell Stover than
like Ken-L Ration.”
“There’s nothing but batsin your attic,” she snapped. “You’re
on some writer’s quest?
“Who else has ever
gone blank on the Thematic
Apperception Test?”
There came a far-off
rumble of thunder. He stared
down the disused road.
At any moment,
she knew, he’d crumble under
the cognitive load.
Beyond the rusting
Mobilgas sign, mirage-like
in the waves of heat,
crows bickered. A frayed
power line sagged by a cracked
and overgrown street.
“That’s where they come from,”
a tall boy said, and pointed
to roofs, a dim wood,
“when it’s getting dark,
the walking dead. That rotting
post-war neighborhood.”
They are not! Sheesh. I am in love with all words equally. ;-)
I love hearing new words and hate to let them pass by without investigating them. One of the best gifts I ever received is a huge dictionary/thesaurus; my husband groans when a word comes up as he know's I'll reach for the dictionary and disappear for a while into the world of words!
Crumbling on sidewalks,My inhibitions against
Lamp posts and your hips.
Constantly burning,
The line of fire between skin
And my composure.
Find my beating heart
And fill your palm, close your fist.
I will fill my mouth
With a soft pillow
With breathy proclamations
With denial's blood.
Dripping from my lips:
Sounds we will never speak of,
But will always know.
With my mind’s tirelessdredges I sought her in years
of silence in schools,
followed her footprints
through the saltgrass, to edges
of evening’s tide pools.
The brine in her eyesStilled the eddies in my heart
And whispered her dreams.
September’s last daysblurred by like dropped playing cards,
each with her brown eyes.
Her brown eyes were paleAnd her face staid, calm and flat,
Her self deep and dark.
What do guys see inLong legs, brown eyes, kinky hair
In one tight package?
I'm looking forward to M's reply to that one already.
Lol! Well Ryan, I am no M. And I too look forward to his response.
In the quiet mind
The package's tight glitter
Is a gloss unseen,
And in the other's brown eyes
Is found a glimpse of what's true.
(In that instance, I used brown eyes to try to convey a sense of the discolored playing cards.)
It's all in the cardsShe said, looking at the spread
With Death and the Fool.
((Wow, that was deep, Guy! I love it!))In a Five-Card Draw
So much to lose, yet to gain
The opponent's trust
How do we yet live?We are offered leftovers,
nothing of substance.
How can we refuse?
Yet will we not accept it?
Such blind disregard.
And now it begins,
and so someday it will end.
As we will ordain.
But we take our time
watch opportunities fade,
and swallow stale cake.
[[Thank you Lillian! Nice continuation - can we trust Death? Or the fool? LOL! Paula, yours made me laugh. I hope that that wasn't an inappropriate response. ]]
Guy wrote: "[[Thank you Lillian! Nice continuation - can we trust Death? Or the fool? LOL! Paula, yours made me laugh. I hope that that wasn't an inappropriate response. ]]"I did not write it as particularly humorous, but I can understand how it can be inferred in that fashion. It is intended to be ironic, rather more sardonic than "funny" per se. It was written in light of the 9/11 anniversary. So, I can honestly say that it is not inappropriate to respond in that manner. It's intended to ask the question, have human beings changed at all in their world view. Are we always going to be a "me only" society without considering the needs of others?
So, you are "off the hook" on this one! I am such an idealist! LOL!
[[Thank you Paula for your generous spirit. :-)]]
He loves her, I knowAnd the fact that it's not me
That just takes the cake
Death promises endsTo stale cake, stagnance, soul mates
And sentimentals.
She says she’ll love mebetter after death (as Bob
had been told by Liz).
Slow to get around
to her last breath, she lounges
and sips a gin fizz.
She stood by the side
of the road, trying to count
the stones in the dark.
With a heavy glass
in hand, she swayed to a beat
no one else could hear.
of the road, trying to count
the stones in the dark.
With a heavy glass
in hand, she swayed to a beat
no one else could hear.
To sounds of a bellgently tolling, she lost count;
those stones were rolling.
The stone bell hung stillWaiting to be counted on
With a soft mallet.
Guy wrote: "The stone bell hung stillWaiting to be counted on
With a soft mallet."
Somehow or other, the Haiku I wrote in response to Ryan's #7771 either disappeared, or never showed up, so I will try again! My goodness gracious, GR is giving me the bum's rush these days!
A rolling stone can
gather no moss, it is said.
Bells are not mentioned.
Guess we'll have to see if that one stays posted!
LOL!Yes, it is here. Or, at least I see one, but cannot be sure that that is the real one you posted! ;-)
With their wedding vows,
When Kate said 'I do' to Mick,
A Stone gathered Moss.
Hello Ryan. And was there a fushigi in it? I just finished reading last week's stuffage, after writing this, and Kate Moss was mentioned there a couple of times! Too funny.
A fushigi-ku?! No way, that's awesome ;)
LOL! Well, not sure about awesome, but ... funny for sure. :-)
Very funny! I was trying to do something with bell bottoms and dead ringers but couldn't make it fit ;)
Clever idea! Let's see if I can play with it.In the dead of night
The pale twins heard the bell toll
And stripped off their pants.
Not good. That's a hard combination of words to work Ryan. LOL!
Their bell bottom pantsTouched the tops of their bare feet
Identically.
She pointed the Glockfrom her polished Rolls. The church
bell chimed half past three.
“You wondered,” she smiled,
“for whom the bell tolls.” She fired.
“It’s tolling for thee.”
Weekly Short Stories Contest and Company!
Books mentioned in this topic
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Marcovaldo (other topics)
Invisible Cities (other topics)
Confessions of a Taoist on Wall Street (other topics)
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Authors mentioned in this topic
David Payne (other topics)Thomas Merton (other topics)
Robert Payne (other topics)
Barbara Gowdy (other topics)
David K. Reynolds (other topics)
Paula, words are an interesting thing. The ancient Chinese philosopher Chuang-Tzu said that the purpose of words is to convey meaning. And that once the meaning has been no made clear, then words are no longer necessary. He's a funny and thought provoking writer.
To be a good word
Or not to be, that's the rub
That will cost meaning.