Lifted

Poetry is not my norm. But I was intrigued by Eat Sleep Write's poetry prompt this week, especially with the local "monsoon" month going on. Here's what poured out.

wind and rain
bring an unseasonal chill
upending plans for the day

instead
a trip to the berry patch
splashing through puddles

pick
purple black sweetness
with rain washed fingers

feet
crying for release
from soggy stockings

inhale
ozone freshed air
exhale fatigue and ennui

berries
set aside for later
with shoes and socks

time
to dance barefoot
with the drops

raise
hands to the sky
pirouette in the breeze

Dry Day

The sky bleached to white by heat while the wind blows furnaced air

Drawing the last moisture from leaves and crisping the lawn

As we sit in machine conjured comfort searching the heavens for clouds

Wishing for rain to pull us outside and gleefully jump in puddles

The Færie Ball

This week’s assignment was to write a piece inspired by pictures. You could chose either one or even do both.
What did the images mean to you?
(I chose the spiral staircase)


Soft steps upon the gilded stairs
The færie spiral down
Translucent, jeweled wings 
Mirrored in silken gown

With shining eye and glittered breath
They tiptoe through the door
Their men-folk wait within
Standing breathless on the floor

The lute and pipes and ancient drum
Invite them to begin
The melody hypnotic
Soon they're swaying wing to wing

Slender hips move with the strings
Wings keep time with drum
Haunting  pipes weave magic
Færie blood begins to hum

One by one, then pair by pair
Enrapt, the dancers rise 
Touches gentle as a kiss
Promised in their eyes

One pair departs unnoticed
Two, then three and four
To share their music elsewhere 
Far from the crowded floor

One couple left within the space
Their faces lined with age
Wingbeats slow,  hands caress
Memories in their gaze

Hand in hand, they leave on foot
The music fades away
Wing to wing they close the door
And let the memories play

Not Just Another Donut

But this week's prompt is simple: write a piece, fiction or non-fiction, inspired by the delicious shot. Word limit is 600.

I'm beautiful, a pink delight
A sugar laden treasure 
Plump and moist and sprinkle frilled
A tasty morning pleasure

Little teeth take greedy bites
Tiny tongues lap icing
Sprinkles stuck on chubby cheeks
I find them so enticing

Another nibble, one more bite
Almost to the goal
Hurry now to chew right through
And breach the donut hole 

I have them now, the little brats
Their cheeks I am embracing
With jaws of yeast and frosting glue
A trap of their own making

I'll bet a bright pink donut
Was not one of their fears
I suck them in with greedy bites
Lapping more than tears

I feel so fresh and whole again
I hope it's not too late
To find another hiding place
On some sweet kiddie's plate 

Those Grimm boys didn't get it right
In fact, they seldom did 
They always want to blame the witch
But t'was I who ate the kids