The Bag Lady

Yes, it’s a unicorn we need

The legendary healing steed

His magic will cure us

His reputation precedes.

The myth exclaims he heals the sick

Casts out poisons, is this the trick

We need this day to stop the slaughter

Of our innocent sons and daughters?

I would gladly ask him to aid

If I knew where this unicorn stayed

Or is he only seen in a book

Tell me, where should I look

It’s obvious we can’t do it alone

We need a mythological tome

To give us advice, tell us the answer

Is it this fantastical prancer?

February 22: Flash Fiction Challenge

https://rugby843.blog

Awoke this very chilly day

Looked around to assay

My bedroom clutter

Only to utter

An unpleasant sigh.

I wonder why

It doesn’t matter

And the latter

Ideas of neatness

Don’t plague me now

I used to make it all pristine

Children about, needs to be clean

Things neatly put away

No longer do I feel that way.

I think it’s a matter of vision

Maybe that could be the reason

Or just that I’m tired

My strength expired

It doesn’t seem to be important

Immaculate no longer ardent

Comfortable surroundings is my goal

No refrigerator sporting mold

But dusty shelves, I admit

White gloved fingers would see grit

But doesn’t bother, I confess

After all, it is my mess.

Age and single independence win

If you can cope, then please come in!

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/assay/

Five in the afternoon, already darkness creeping in, and the wind is starting up. Winter in this city is milder than some, but the cement never warms in the day’s sun. The temperatures are low, even though the sun shines here practically every day.

I have a few items that render some warmth. An old yoga mat someone threw in the bin helps a lot against the chill of the pavement. A salvaged length of canvas from a discarded tent provides shelter from the wind. The scent of it being soaked from rain brings back memories of my youth, camping with my folks.

I wipe tears from my tired eyes as these memories of happiness drift in and out of my mind. I pull the worn blanket over my head and try to forget those things. I try to hide them away for they do me no good. Sleep doesn’t come easily when you have to be aware, every minute, aware of where you are, who might be approaching.

I never feel really safe. The library where I wash at night and in the morning has uniformed guards inside. I do feel safe there, for a time. At ten they close and the brief warm respite of clean safety ends. I retreat to a familiar partially hidden hallway to spend the remainder of the night. It is cold, but dry, and as much shelter as I can afford. I shall be grateful to wake to the sun another time. I am homeless but I am alive.

https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2018/02/22/tale-weaver-160-homelessness/

Observe an infant

Soft smooth smiling innocence

Sweetness fresh and new

Observe the grandmother’s face

Soft older wise wrinkly smile

https://ramblingsofawriter2016.com/2018/02/22/weekly-tanka-prompt-poetry-challenge-week-85-new-old/

A compass for life

Every tick of the arrow

A new direction

The right path is yours to choose

Many travels, rusted proof

Colleen’s Weekly #Tanka Tuesday #Poetry Challenge, No. 72: Breakthrough & Movement, #SnyonymsOnly

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/encrusted/

“It has to be here somewhere. Look for anything that glitters.”

“You mean anything besides water?”

“Of course”, Joe was getting exasperated with Mike. He asked him to come along as a cover for his mom. She thought they were going fishing.

Joe shifted his feet around in the cool stream. Only a day since he sneaked in to take his dad’s compass. On yesterday’s outing, he lost it, today, trying to find it. It was his mom’s treasure, one of the few items they sent after his father died in battle.

Joe suddenly shrieked. He cut his foot on something sharp, a broken glass disk.

106 words

https://flashfictionforaspiringwriters.wordpress.com/2018/02/19/fffaw-challenge-week-of-february-20-2018/

It’s all about trust

Or

His love for her

Strength of the fabric

Grip of her toes

The want of a swim

Tiredness of his fingers

Or

Maybe it’s just about fun.

https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2018/02/20/photo-challenge-202/

Protecting their lives

Listening for threatening noise

Pups’ comforted zen

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/constant/

RonovanWrites #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge #189 Zen&Noise

Many a storm have come over the hill

But you stand strong, you have that will

While good times extend the peace

You handle it all with calm and ease

Outward appearances show you unperturbed

Inner muted chaos dare not disturb

The strength of character you behold

As you gather family into the fold.

Dedicated to my daughter this day, her 47th birthday.💓

http://.net/2018/02/19/weekly-writing-challenge-129/