This week’s Poet of the Week for the W3 prompt is Sadje, and Sadje’s prompt guidelines are to “Write an elfchen poem (elevenie) with an added challenge to write a second elfchen poem, which opposes the first one.” (Go to The Skeptic’s Kaddishto find out more) Yesterday I saw vibrant patches of dandelions in swirls on an incredibly green field. After a dry spell, it’s good to be back with something for the W3.
Infinite Wonder by D. Avery
dandelions
golden galaxies
suns starring fields
spiraling in green space
ephemeral
eternal
new stars
from stardust nebulae
wispy explosions, comet-tailed, alight
dandelions
This week Denise, at GirlieontheEdge, esteemed hostess of Six Sentence Stories, would have us write using the word “consequences”. Her rules are simply that the response is in six sentences, no more no less, and include some form of the prompt word. Of all the possibilities, this is what I went with. GoHERE to link in and read more Sixes.
Child’s Play by D. Avery
In Vermont spring goes by other names, like Sugaring Season, and the one I enjoy far less as a commuting adult, Mud Season. But, as a child walking up our muddy dirt road in the spring, I found the puddled water and mud irresistible, and would dig trenches with hands and heels to watch the water drain away, harmless play that maybe even helped the messy roads to dry out faster.
When I lived on a faraway island and heard the story of Love Paddack, I totally got what she did, but her mucking about with running water had much greater consequences than my roadwork, and not in a good way.
As a girl in the 1720’s, Love played on an earthen dam at the outlet to what was then known as Wesco Pond, where there was enough of a stream to run a mill. When she went home to Sunset Hill she had left trickling rivulets; when she and the rest of the town awakened the next morning, the pond was gone, never to refill, today a wetland, but not a proper pond.
This would have been a huge loss to the town at that time, and a great mystery, as Love kept her secret until her deathbed in 1792— imagine living with that your whole long life.
At the dVerse Poets Pub, Haibun Monday is hosted this week by Linda Lee Lyberg. She would have us write a haibun inspired by Late Spring. Go to the pub to link your haibun and to read the others.
Returnings by D. Avery
Late spring? I don’t think so, late winter having just tucked tail. There’s still snow in the woods and on the mountains. But the sap buckets and taps are put away. Despite chilly, rainy weather the trees are leafing out, the buds unfurling, expanding ever so gradually, each a butterfly emerging from its cocoon. My daffodils are finally showing their sheathed bulbs, peeking straight up amidst the foliage; it will be a while before they relax and nod their yellow faces to the sun.
The ice is out of the lake completely. The bald eagle doesn’t have it as easy now that the returning ducks aren’t crowded into small patches of open water. The loon pair is back, busy keeping the geese off of their nest.
The bears are out. A walk in the woods shows scratched up logs and stumps. Deer are in the fields and clearings, happy to have easy feed again. Turkeys are everywhere, the toms strutting and fanning their tails.
Maybe it is spring. I have heard the peepers and even wood frogs— heralds of spring. But not late spring.
The April 17, 2023 99-word story challengefrom Charli Mills atCarrot Ranch is to: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story of something/someone dark-eyed. What could be a dark-eyed situation? Or is it a dark-eyed beauty? A dark-eyed junco? Maybe it’s a futuristic piece of technology. Go where the prompt leads! Submit by April 22, 2023.
I try not to tense up in my stillness. I wait, listening, controlling my breath so it doesn’t give me away.
Hunting’s about taking everything in, about knowing what to look for, and where. The winter hare, crouched perfectly still, disappears into the snow, invisible but for its shiny black eyes that watch the muzzle rise. At night, the racoon makes its escape into the tree branches, but its eyes, red in the searching light, provide a target.
I stay hidden, perfectly still. I listen to the hunter taking everything in, searching for me. My eyes are shut tight.
In addition to what I post here for the Carrot Ranch challenges, there’s always the Ranch Yarns with Kid and Pal’s responses HERE.
This week Denise, at GirlieontheEdge, venerable hostess of Six Sentence Stories, would have us write using the word “valet”. Her rules are simply that the response is in six sentences, no more no less, and include some form of the prompt word. You may or may not remember this couple. GoHERE to link in and read more Sixes.
Reservations by D. Avery
Before they’d even left the house Ernest was beginning to doubt his decision to take Marge out to the fancy restaurant. Even though he failed at his attempt to knot the tie that had belonged to his father and resorted to a clip on, even though his trusty blazer was tight and would remain unbuttoned, he could pass for dressed up, but he saw how for Marge it was more stressful.
Ilene helped her select a blouse and slacks that were several steps up from her usual Dickies and then Ilene negotiated and navigated Marge through shoes, accessories, and hair. Marge looked nice and Ernest told her so but it pained him to see her looking so uncomfortable, so when she wanted to take her truck, not his, he didn’t argue.
Marge argued at length with the valet before finally letting him into the driver’s seat but when the young man had no clue what a three on the tree was, he finally acquiesced and allowed Marge to park her own truck, which she expertly backed into the one spot capable of fitting it.
Without mentioning the fact that there was no way they were going to be able to get out of the truck, parked as tight to the other cars as it was, Ernest smiled at Marge from the passenger’s seat and asked her if she’d be terribly disappointed if they drove to the truck stop on the edge of town for those sandwiches she likes, maybe have their romantic dinner at home.
The April 10, 2023 99-word story challengefrom Charli Mills atCarrot Ranch is to: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about “the old lady and the beast.” What does age have to say about the story? Who is the beast and why? Go where the prompt leads! Submit by April 15, 2023.
Her Beautiful Life by D. Avery
“He is not a beast,” she countered. “He can be very curmudgeonly, anti-social even, he certainly has questionable fashion sense, but hasn’t actually done anything beastly. I checked.”
“You could do better.”
“Could I? I am an S.O.L., a single old lady, and we tend to outlive and outnumber the old men. Besides he has some very redeeming merits.”
“Like what, Grandmother?”
“That “beast” is an animal. If you know what I mean.”
“Gran!”
“If you ask a question, be prepared for the answer. He’s good in bed.”
“Gran!”
“I’m not just an old lady. I’m still a woman.”
In addition to what I post here for the Carrot Ranch challenges, there’s always the Ranch Yarns with Kid and Pal’s responses HERE.
The April 3, 2023 99-word story challengefrom Charli Mills atCarrot Ranch is to: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about a dog in the desert. Why is the dog there? Who else is involved? Is there a deeper metaphor you can make of the desert? Go where the prompt leads! Submit by April 8, 2023.
This is a second take on the prompt. I’ve been thinking more about deserts and this prompt. There are dogs in the desert, because there are people in the desert. People go into the harshest areas of the southwest desert every day, if they make it across the southern border.
Why Indeed? by D. Avery
Why indeed would there be a dog in the desert?
The desert can be a fatally dangerous environment; if a dog is in the desert there’s likely a human involved.
Maybe the human is from Customs & Border Patrol, the dog searching for drugs, weapons, or people. But CBP notes that deserts are inhospitable and people dangerous, so they’ve developed robotic dogs, further dehumanizing these operations.
Maybe there’s a real dog with its human, searching the desert for the remains of the thousands of migrants who die in the desert. This dog’s human knows these people had family too.
A robot dog operating alongside ATVs in the southwest U.S.
Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Promptthis week is to write a poem, story or what have you in exactly 59 words using some form of the word “cognitive”. I couldn’t shake the phrase ‘cognitive dissonance’ and this is how that ended up.
Go on over to Sammi’s site to leave your 59 words and to read and comment on others’ writing. It’s a fun crowd!
Out of the Stable by D. Avery
Can’t deny the disequilibrium of cognitive dissonance
the disorienting discrepancies are piling up and growing
Some were happier before this unsettling knowing
more comfortable on the straight and narrow path of ignorance
Unwilling to stop, look, listen and
learn, they dig in, go on the attack
keep on, steadfastly twisting truth and denying facts
dangerously defensive and precariously unbalanced.
The rules as set forth by Denise, at GirlieontheEdge, venerable hostess of Six Sentence Stories, are simply that the response is in six sentences, no more no less, and include some form of the prompt word, which this week is “thread”. I’m not sure where these six sentences came from, but they did. GoHERE to link in and read more Sixes.
Through the Weave by D. Avery
Your golden thread is how you lower yourself to Earth. Everyone has a golden thread, but too many knot theirs like a counting rope they worry in their hands.
Not you! You tether the moon, floating it aloft like a balloon. You wind your thread around Earth’s axis and pull— zip!— twirling and spinning like a top.
You follow the singing trail of your golden thread, follow it back through the weave to the beginning, to hear your story again, and again, without end.
The April 3, 2023 99-word story challengefrom Charli Mills atCarrot Ranch is to: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about a dog in the desert. Why is the dog there? Who else is involved? Is there a deeper metaphor you can make of the desert? Go where the prompt leads! Submit by April 8, 2023.
In addition to what I post here for the Carrot Ranch challenges, there’s always the Ranch Yarns with Kid and Pal’s responses HERE.
Trust In Dog by D. Avery
I don’t have the energy, or time, to explain how I got lost in the desert.
The dog appeared like a miracle.
A feral dog, but a dog nonetheless. It watched me with calm curiosity, then looked expectantly over its shoulder at me. I followed. The dog walked and waited, as I stumbled after it to this small canyon, where there is water.
But the dog bares its teeth and won’t let me drink. Exhausted, I wait on the sunbaked ground, amongst the scattered bones of other believers. Tumbling from their den, yipping pups squirm, impatient for their meal.
Be sure to go to Carrot Ranch to read the complete “Impossibly Blue” collection from last week‘s challenge.
ShiftnShake 