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Monthly Archives: September 2013

Word Prompt: Quicksand

Warm sand shackles


Palm tree mob


Sinking toes

A sob for help

Stuck to hot air


Earth’s tight embrace


Clear blue sky above


Word Prompt: Teddy bear


This is so not fair!¬†First I’m confined with you trolls for what were supposed to be my fairy tale high school years. Now I’m stuck in an old people’s carriage with you all summer. Thank god there’s a light at the end of this dark, three thousand mile tunnel. I’ll be free from this stupid tyranny in three months.


Actually it’s an RV.


Ugh, same difference. They both move on wheels and make it impossible to escape your tragic unibrow.


I don’t have a unibrow!

As Rachel flings a pile of clothes from her closet, a furry, brown limb pokes from the remaining landfill. She shovels another mound from the top and pulls out a one-eyed teddy bear, which has seen better days.


Is that Wammy?

Rachel examines the bear’s pitiful stare. With one hand, she clears out the rest of her closet and finds the missing eye at the bottom of the floor.


Shortly after I was born, Rachel started suffering from night terrors. She claimed I brought goblins from the hospital, which threatened to chop off her hair in the middle of the night. To guard her from my evil clan, Dad gave her his bravest childhood friend – Wammy.


Are you taking him with you?


Don’t be stupid! I’m not gonna be the loser who takes her old teddy bear to college.

Word Prompt: Palm trees

Where ya goin’ little one

We got nowhere to be

Nowhere to run

All time in the world

Ours to have now and more

We know the road ahead

Its bent and curled

See our crown of fronds

Flicking fingers in the wind

The leaf scars on our stems

We bear from fickle gusts

Pounding slaps of rain

Her sky’s unforgiving sun

Jealous mistresses

Battling for the higher throne

A vacant seat at court

The loneliest space to own

Stay slow, you’ll grow tall

Retain truth, you’ll reach wide

Never will the view you seek

Varnish from your line of sight

Word Prompt: Bravery

Bravery is knowing how to recognize your wrongdoings and admitting your faults. Being willing to adapt and attempt change. Climbing the peaks of your darkest soul and reconstructing them unto meager hills. Conquering the unknown when it scares you the most.

Bravery doesn’t require a sword or gun. It takes wisdom beyond the lines of a textbook or segments on the evening news. Mandates steps from routine and numbed consensus. Bravery is one voice saying “I’d had enough” and finding a way to pave change.

Word Prompt: Sahara


Vast and blank

Bleak and sifting

An end to stark views

Nowhere near sight

Rooms fall away

Lost and shifting


Granules of sand

Floating ribbons

Slide over sloped dunes

Sahara’s only movement

Fleeting and nimble

Too far, too quick

To grab as one’s own

She bears no fruit

Save the kernel

Buried in deep wells

Prismatic springs

Her map of veins

Unseen routes

One’s escape

From this hell’s drought

Word Prompt: Times Square

“The answer is four times square,” Mollie answered, her slight frame swollen with pride.

“Mollie,” the teacher sighed, dropping her head. “You can’t ‘times’ a square. When a number is ‘squared,’ it means you multiply the number by itself.”

Mollie scrunched her nose.

“But how can a number be multiplied if it’s by itself, Miss Morgan? That doesn’t make sense.”

Miss Morgan had her work cut out for her. Two weeks ago, it seemed easy enough to accept the principal’s challenge to raise the class average to a B+. It currently leaned on a C-, like many of the classrooms at this school. Miss Morgan wasn’t aware of that when the accepted the interim teaching position. According to a few gossips in the teacher’s lounge, the last math teacher had quit. The administrative office would neither confirm nor deny whether this was true.

She supposed it could be worse. She could be teaching at one of those schools which required teachers to give their students A’s and B’s, regardless of whether they knew the material taught and earned the grade. Miss Morgan had a hard time believing those schools existed until she substituted at one for a week and accidentally gave one child a C+. Guarding her life for two days in the nation’s third most dangerous inner-city school was nothing compared to the wrath of an angry heiress spitting haleotosis breath in Miss Morgan’s face while shrieking about her eight year old son’s chances of attending Harvard being ruined with such a fallible grade. It was a relief when the headmaster released her from the temp position with her week’s pay already embossed on a linen check.

Miss Morgan wanted to teach, not give gold stars to every child who crossed her threshold. She wanted to build the foundation for future inventors and entrepreneurs, bright doctors and scientists, innovative designers and artists. In order for her to consider her mission a success, children needed to understand the basics of math, English, and science.

Picking up a piece of chalk from her desk, she crossed the room to where Mollie quizzically gazed at her incorrect answer at the board.

“A squared number,” Miss Morgan began again, “means an integer – in this case, four – is multiplied by another same integer.”

“So it’s four times four?” Mollie asked. “Not times square?”

“Exactly,” Miss Morgan smiled.


Word Prompt: Happiness

If happiness is a warm gun

I’ll choose misery

Desolate depression

In the loneliest sense

I’ll wander through thorns

Dig my own hole six feet deep

To forego the bloodshed

Of trembling hands

Capping the medicine

That goes smoothly down

Down tunnels dark and cold

To the wants of our own minds

Want for nothing

Begging for everything

Well served for all time