Friday, November 19, 2010

#4 "She was drifting off to sleep..."

She was drifting off to sleep when there was a sharp knock at the door. Her drowsy mind was reluctant to release its relaxed hold upon her body. The second knock had her sitting up within her warm bed before her brain could protest.

Her eyes darted to the clock and saw that it was late, too late for visitors despite the demanding echo of the third knock.

Putting her feet onto the floor brings them jerking back far quicker than their descent. So cold! Moments later, with properly slippered feet, she stood at the top of the stair. Her eyes looked at her front door as a fourth knock reverberated through the air.

Each slow step down brought such a number of thoughts to her mind, trying to figure who would wake her or if she should be concerned of whoever was knocking.

Her eye peers through the glass in the door and a gasp falls from her lips. She has the door open before the fifth knock could fall.

"Didn't mean to wake you up, but I figured you wanted to know that I was home, sweetheart."

When she was in his arms then, she did not so much mind about being woken up.

Thursday, November 18, 2010

#3 "This is Not...

Begin with, "This is not the last poem I will write..."


This is not the last poem I will write.
I will not go willingly into that dark night.

Cold and still I may lie,
But I'm not done. No, not I.
I will kick, claw, grab and bite,
Determined to never back down without a fight.

My pen still holds ink, my pencil still holds lead.
This hunger for expression demands to be fed.

I will one day find my wayward muse.
I should back down? I refuse.

This is not the last poem I will write.

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

I gave myself ten minutes for the prompt, but I did not finish in time. I will mark where I managed to get when the ten minute mark was reached, and then went on to finish it all up.


"What is the nicest thing you have done for someone?"

A few years ago, my family and I were at the St. Louis Zoo taking in the sights. We had stopped briefly for a bathroom break and to rest our feet from the continuous walking.

The bathrooms that we stopped at were located near the seal exhibit and I, being curious about the aquatic mammals, wandered over to watch them. There was no show going on at the time, but that did not seem to stop the seals from swimming about and being energetic. There was one seal among the others that appeared smaller, possibly younger, than the others. This one seal continuously darted about in the water and around it's fellow seals.

Feeling a little daring, mostly because there were no zoo employees to deter me, I reached through the guard rail towards the seals and * called to it like one would call a dog. I did not expect anything to come of my calling to them, but to my surprise the smallest seal swam up to where I was and leapt from the water just enough to touch my outreached hand.

I turned to my dad to tell him what I had just managed to do when I saw them. A woman and her young daughter were standing just a short ways off, watching me. I smiled at them and, only an instance later, I noticed the healing burn marks along the little girl's cheeks, neck and arms.

I don't know if I had any visible reaction to the girl's burns, but the manner in which she stared at the seals made me smile a little.

"Would you like to try?"

The girl was by my side in just a moment, with advice from both her mother and I to hold onto the rails tightly as she reached her tiny hand out over the water.

I called, whistled and clicked to the seals for several minutes, managing to get the same seal to come back each time. It would jump up and touch the girl's hand with the tip of it's nose, and the girl would giggle and squeal each time while I could not stop smiling. We finally had to stop as my family was ready to move on, and I'm sure that the girl's mother was ready, as well.

I did not get the little girl's name, but I hope that I made her trip to the zoo a little more memorable.

* = end of ten minute mark

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

"Why Should I Be Honest?"

Being a heavy procrastinator, I sometimes need prompts to get myself motivated. My writing hand has nearly become dusty from disuse and I believe I saw cobwebs clinging to my pens and pencils. So as an exercise for my imagination and poor, atrophied, fingers, I intend to work on writing one prompt a day for the next month. Once the one month goal has been reached, I will evaluate what I have done and set a new goal.

Here is the first.


To be honest with people, and oneself, is often a tricky thing. So many people seem to be hardwired in distrusting their fellow human that, even when honesty is being used, it is disregarded as fallacy. Or scorn.

Being honest can sometimes be equated to baring one's soul, leaving it open to either gentle acceptance or biting rejection. Honesty is a duel-edged sword set to defend or cut the one who wields it.

As to why I should use honesty, despite such glaring possibilities for disaster, is simply this: lies and omissions can lead to far greater problems. By being open and honest, whatever is being discussed is there for all parties to see and work through. Keeping things hidden allows for stagnation, doubt and paranoia.

To be honest with others should be nothing more than a brief painful instance, ripping a band-aid from a small wound and then put out of mind.


Not a lot of time was put into this particular prompt. Distractions were present (i.e. cat jumping onto my notebook being one), and my mind was constantly pointing out things that were wrong during the writing process. I will pull old papers from a duel-credit writing coarse from the hiding places and look over them to refresh myself.