dverselogo.jpgdVerse Poets’ Pub bar is now open for Quadrille # 57. Kim from Writing in North Norfolk says she “welcomes dVerse Poets from around the world to join us in writing rain-drenched poems in the hope that together we can magic up a big enough umbrella to keep the rain at bay. Just be sure your 44-word poem contains some form of the word rain.” 



remember when you knew

exactly what to do?

in summer rain

join with the lake

frog eyed at the surface

a wondering witness

amidst the ricochet

of raindrops’ prancing play

skyward reaching drops rebound

leap up then crash back down-

right before your eyes.



working-template-for-ff-challenges26.png“Walter”, muttered Edna. He needed to borrow some gas so he could finish his mowing. George invited him to iced tea on their cool tree shaded porch.

“Sometimes I wish I had a small lawn like you”, Walter said, mopping his brow. “George, you should take some of these trees down. Enhance your property.”

“Walter, I don’t want to hear it again. We like the view as it is, dead trees and all.”

A woodpecker worked its way around a yellow birch. Wrens flitted among the lower branches.

“See”, Edna explained, “We aren’t the only ones who live here.”


A second response for the Carrot Ranch May 17, 2018, prompt: write a story about property valuesIn 99 words (no more, no less).

Plummeting Values

rwr-1.pngAt Carrot Ranch, the May 17, 2018, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about property values. Perhaps its a home, business or pencil museum. What makes them go up or down? Go where the prompt leads. Respond by May 22, 2018. Go on over there for some good flash fun. Here’s my flash response with some background this week.


Plummeting Values

They sat together in their one bedroom apartment with their laptops, looking at real estate listings.

“There’s lots of listings that have everything we want, but are out of our price range.”

“Yeah… wait, look at this. It has a porch… big backyard…. family room… plenty of bedrooms and storage… and it’s less than our maximum.”

“Oh, it sure looks nice. That is the exact place I’ve imagined raising a family. Where is it?”

“Let’s see… located close to schools…”

“Stop. We can’t raise a family close to schools.”

“What, why not?”

“Why not?! Guns. Schools are dangerous places.”


“This is not a drill, evacuate the building!” With only that direction and information I escorted my math students out of the building, evacuating along with all the other students and staff. As it turns out the cause for the evacuation was that a man suffered some sort of medical incident and passed out at the wheel of his truck, striking the front of the school quite hard. No one was hurt. The noise was horrific and the building was, as they say, compromised. For many reasons of possibilities, evacuation was the right call. It quickly got sorted out and parents notified that all was well despite the sirens and cops on the scene.

Back to the students and staff evacuating the building before having that information. Both groups have drilled for the worst, knowing we were drilling; all we knew this time was that this was not a drill. Naturally, in the moment, imaginations filled in the blanks where there was no information. It turned out to be an unfortunate accident with no human harm done, but the kids were traumatized because they knew what it could have been. The students (and staff) were in a real situation of wondering if there was a shooter in their school, targeting their friends, targeting them. They were scared. This was about the same time as the Texas school shooting, which I heard about later.

Another learning opportunity; it took less than a class period, but we did not go back to dividing fractions when we returned to our classroom. My eleven and twelve year old students learned today how we respond to emergency, and how it feels to contemplate mortal danger. They’d learned enough for one day.

When will our lawmakers learn?

Pure Haiku


joyful notes composed

murmuration melody

sung in starlinged sky

© D. Avery 2018

D. Avery is learning to tap the internet and invites you to her blog, Shiftnshake, a place where she pours flash fiction and shots of poetry for online sampling.

I really liked the use of the word “starlinged” with its double connotations of the murmuration and the invisible stars in the sky during daylight hours …

This haiku is part of our Celestial Bodies theme!

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Constant Companion

six sentence story.jpgSix Sentence Story  time again! This week’s word prompt sponsored by GirlieOn the Edge’s Blog is “constant”. 

Jennifer was coming with him to Thanksgiving dinner, her first time meeting the whole family, and now he wondered if he should have explained more about his sister’s situation, but it was too late, here they were and there she was, greeting them at the door, making a fuss over Jennifer, and he just hoped that it would be okay.

When their mother led Jennifer off into the kitchen, his sister gushed at him, “She’s wonderful, Bob, really, I think so, and when Sherman comes down and meets her, he will love her too, I know it.”

“He’s here?”

“Of course he’s here, and Mother’s set a place for him at the table, as always, a place for my constant companion; I do wish you would be more accepting of him after all these years.”

“I wish she wouldn’t still set a place for him. Damn it, Sis, you are forty years old, it’s time you gave up your imaginary friend!”

Twittering Tales #84

Kat Myrman at like mercury colliding hosts a weekly photo prompt challenge. Write a tale in 280 or fewer characters. Here’s this week’s photo by malmanxg at unsplash with my 276 character response.



Traffic could be thick in this weather, getting around taking longer than usual. He would give her the benefit of the doubt.
And, actually, she had probably misunderstood the time, thought their date was for the next movie. Yes, that was it.
He would continue to wait.

Pining Crane

Brooklyn_Museum_-_Tortoise_Has_New_Year's_Dream_of_Crane_and_Pine_-_Kôbun_Yoshimura.jpgKôbun Yoshimura (Japanese, 1793-1863). Tortoise Has New Year’s Dream of Crane and Pine, 1854.

Pining Crane

Turtle dreamt of journeying. With certain steps Turtle began trudging along an uncertain path. Borne of Earth, yet bearing thirteen moons full upon her back, Turtle bore her journey with patience and faith.

After many cycles of many moons, Turtle was far from where her journey had begun. In the shelter of wise Pine, Turtle curled up to rest. Then Turtle awakened, transformed, as if again emerging from a shell.

As Crane, Turtle stretched feathered wings, stood tall upon two long legs, danced a dance of timelessness; as Crane, flew high over Pine, lucidly, all past illusions clearly visible.



My 99 words for the Carrot Ranch May 10, 2018, prompt: write a story defining “the charisma of cranes.” For centuries, cranes have inspired art and philosophy. You can write a crane story or create something new out of the phrase. Go where the prompt leads.


 six sentence story.jpgThe word from Girlie this week is “echo”, the challenge to use that word in a six sentence story. Follow the link to read more responses or to leave your own. 



They’d come to refer to it as her ‘downward spiral’.

Looking back, everyone tried to pinpoint its beginning. They noted declining interest in favorite activities; increasing reclusiveness; general irritability. They couldn’t ascertain whether drinking had increased or not, though agreed it had changed. It was no longer social, no longer an element of relaxed, hair down fun; now tended to splinter into sharp-pronged barbs of discontent.

Each imagined they knew where the edge of the downward spiral began and from those edges listened, dumbstruck by the silence, desperate for even an echo, surprised that she never once cried out.


dverselogo.jpg   I’m so muddled and befuddled, I am a day late with a response to Quadrille #56, Muddle up that Muse from WhimseyGizmo at dVerse Pub. Finally I track this across the page, 44 words that muse upon the word ‘muddle’.


Words clinging to sodden shoes

Soft mud chinked in tread of soles

dries and cakes, then falls loose

becomes dust, gathered by winds they blow;

cycle up into a muddled cloud

return anew as rain

Poets through such puddles plow

Soles muddied up again.

Squall Line

She could weather this one out, batten the hatches; these storms never lasted more than three days.

Somehow they always managed to arrive within moments of each other.

Three cars’ worth of doors flung open at once, spilling grandchildren who swirled behind their parents, the mass of them a single squall line bearing down, gusting through the front door without so much as a knock, her daughters’ smiles flashing like lightning.

The men and children retreated to the beach while her daughters assaulted her home, dusting, scrubbing; organizing her cupboards.

The aftermath was always erosion. She was losing ground.


This is a second take on the Carrot Ranch May 3rd prompt , 99 words (no more, no less) using a line in the story. It is also six sentences with the word “single”. Check out both sites to see more takes on these prompts, or leave a story of your own.

six sentence story.jpg                  rwr-1.png