Archive | November, 2013

May You Always Know

30 Nov



I will always be ready

to hold your umbrella

and shelter you from storms

I’ll share in your rainbows

and all of your sad times

for you and I are one

Love Nana




A week in Haiku

28 Nov

written for weekly writing challenge

found here:


November morning

sunlight hidden behind clouds

tiny flakes appear


fall winds whipping trees

bending their naked branches

small birds seek cover


while we were sleeping

there fell a blanket of white

winter came knocking


cardinals feasting

in the sun’s warm embrace

snow becomes puddles


watching men in suits

scraping ice off of  windshields

their backs to the wind


27 Nov

Written for Friday Fictioneers..a fine group. Stop in for a read or better yet write your own and join us.

Link here 29 November 2013

Copyright - Ted Strutz

The frightened janitor was steadfast in his refusal to finish cleaning the breakfast area. “I could hear voices whispering” he complained “it got so cold in there I could almost see my breath and there were puddles of water everywhere”

The captain and his first mate exchanged knowing looks, this had happened to them before.

“You have nothing to worry about, they won’t hurt you” the captain explained ” it is the crew of the Edmund Fitzgerald. Their freighter sank in a heavy storm with no survivors. Every year since, they have hitched a ride to shore on the tenth of November. ”

100 words

The Rose

25 Nov
Trifecta: Week 105
PLUCK: (transitive verb)
1: to pull or pick off or out
2 a : to remove something (as hairs) from by or as if by plucking <pluck one’s eyebrows>
b : rob, fleece
3: to move, remove, or separate forcibly or abruptly <plucked the child from the middle of the street>
He was watching her in the schoolyard, a special rose among the thorns. Of course he had always had a thing for red-heads, all fiery tempered like his mother.
Standing in the shadow of the elm he fantasized about what he would do to her when he finally got to pluck her for his bouquet. She would be a fine replacement for the blonde, blue-eyed lily he had taken last week. He was beginning to tire of her already.
Jason licked his lips, imagining the softness of hers, knowing she would learn to love him as the others had.
His heart thumped wildly in his chest as she picked up her lunch pail and started past the wooded lot where he waited impatiently.
As she passed the tree he grabbed her arm and clamped his hand over her mouth. But he was not fast enough.
Katie bit down on his fingers as hard as she could, swinging around she slammed him across the face with her pail. A  quick swing to the groin and she was off and running screaming all the way.
Jason groaned in pain “little bitch” he yelled at her “you don’t know what you’re missing”.
Trifecta: Week 105

The Waiting Game

24 Nov

Sunday Photo Fiction: November 24th 2013

35 11 November 24th 2013

“Remind me again why I am freezing my tail feathers sitting in a line- up at 3 a.m. on a Sunday morning when I could be tucked in my warm nest.” She yawns loudly.

“I told you already..the new Z Box 2014!  Surround sound, robe of invisibility, like you are there technology, so realistic you can smell your enemies fear..” His eyes glaze over. “come on, be a sport and stay with me. I’ll owe you. Please?”

“Oh for crying out loud you are such a squab. Damn it. You are going to owe me BIG. What time does this stupid store open?”

“8 o’clock sharp. Tomorrow”

Perfect Crime

23 Nov
Trifextra: Week Ninety-Five
And now your Trifextra prompt. This weekend, writers, it’s up to you. We want you to choose a word and use it three times in your 33 words. However, it must be either a verb, noun or adjective and the form of the word cannot change, it must appear exactly the same three times. Please highlight your chosen word in your piece before linking up below. – See more at:
And now your Trifextra prompt. This weekend, writers, it’s up to you. We want you to choose a word and use it three times in your 33 words. However, it must be either a verb, noun or adjective and the form of the word cannot change, it must appear exactly the same three times.
One particular palm Sunday, Harold decided to use his palm to slip cash off of the collection plate. On his way out of church a cocoanut fell from a palm tree, killing him.
Trifextra: Week Ninety-Five

Replacement Love

20 Nov

Friday Fictioneers

22 November 2013

Copyright - Sean Fallon

Photo Copyright – Sean Fallon

He has the body of a god and the face of an angel. It took me three trips to haul all the parts from where I found them to my waiting boudoir. I slid his reassembled body beneath the sheets on the side of the bed where you used to lay. Naked, I climbed in beside him and snuggled close. Amazing how the two of you are so much alike. You are both cold and shallow, no heart, no passion, no love. On the plus side, he does not fart and never hogs the blankets. I think I’ll keep him.

Ligo Haibun Challenge 15/11-22/11

20 Nov


It is solved by walking. – Algerian Proverb

Animal trainers will tell you that the best way to solve conflict between dogs is to leash them together and take them for a walk.

In a short time they stop growling and begin moving forward as one. A pack.

Ah, but if humans could be trained as such ! Tethered together they could be led through one another’s territory. Past starving mothers with empty breasts valiantly trying to nurse their infants. Through neighborhoods where children play among the rubble of war. Traversing places where opulent mansions overshadow makeshift accommodations of the homeless.

Would they be able to turn their eyes away, or would they finally see that we too are a pack meant to share this planet and live as one? Could misery and war be ended if we all took a walk?

of same flesh and blood

but will mankind judge your worth

by color and race

the country you call your home

and to whom you pray at night

The Royal Scepter

18 Nov

Sunday Photo Fiction: November 17th 2013

34 11 November 17th 2013

Arthur was in full panic mode. Two hours left before HRH was to make her annual tour of the royal treasure room and the scepter could not be found. Everything was removed from storage, cleaned and set on satin pillows in the viewing area , yet the where about of the last piece remained a mystery. The last time he remembered seeing it, it had propped open the tower window ( it got damn hot in there on summer days) but now it was gone.

No amount of seeking turned up its location. What was the protocol ? As keeper of the tower would he be beheaded? No that’s stupid..or is it…

Suddenly Arthur had a plan. Hurrying back to his flat he retrieved the curtain rod from his parlor, a quick spray of gold paint and he was back in the tower in two shakes of a lambs tail.

He barely had time to place it between the crown and medallion when the Queen arrived. But would it fool her? She paused before the display for an uncomfortable amount of time.

“I don’t understand”  she said  “the scepter is in the castle, I had the housekeeper bring it over to hold up the bedroom drapes when the curtain pole broke.”

Arthur fainted.

Hunger Games ?

13 Nov

Friday Fictioneers

15 November 2013

copyright - Kent Bonham

copyright – Kent Bonham

Vladmir watches the wenches from the shadows. He has been waiting for them since they left the bakery.  This is his favorite feeding ground, the uneven cobblestone makes escape nearly impossible. Stupid women in their high heels are easy prey.

He can hear their silly banter as they approach, smell their perfume, he shifts his weight..anticipating… drooling

Stepping out from hiding, he grabs the one in the skirt, hissing to the other that any sound will be the death of both of them.

“Give me those pastries” he growls “and nobody will get hurt.”