https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2024/04/06/puzzle-this-saturday-mix-6-april-2024/
You em’rald mystery
That I should admire, envy?
No, not even for
The love of my Irishman
Whom dying I’ll still adore
©V.Sparrow, 2024
https://thesoundofonehandtyping.com/2024/04/02/writers-workshop-prompts-for-april-4-2024/
Badge by Patty, http://anothercookieplease.com
This is my first time at Writer’s Workshop…
‘Tis the month of April when crazy people like myself sign on for both the A-to-Z Challenge AND NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo…and other prompts that call to us.
It’s in our blood, the ink of authors gone before us. Anyway, I’m excited to have a try at John Holton’s prompt list.
Apparently due to sleep-deprivation, I’ve combined 3 from his menu:
1) Write a post based on the word thirsty.
2) Write a post in exactly 8 sentences.
5) Tell us about the most exhausted you’ve ever felt.
Here we go:
💖🌞💖
He was certain he’d never been so exhausted in his life, not even after a triathlon, or in the Army.
And thirsty…water, lemonade, gatorade–he couldn’t pour enough fluids down his throat.
Why had she chosen the hottest day on record in Texas to ask him to help her move…if she’d told him, he was too dazed to recall.
He was dripping sweat, his muscles felt like dead rubber bands that crumble before you can wrap them around a few favorite pens.
All the macho drained out of him, he sat down and prayed he wouldn’t pass out.
“Are you okay? this is the last load, I promise,” she said sweetly.
He nodded, grinning through the dizziness as he mopped his face with a turquoise bandana.
He now understood one meaning of “lovesick”–they’d be married in a month…if he lived that long.
©V.Sparrow, 2024
Celebrating poets and poetry all month long! Requirements: words, and the ability to survive sleep-deprivation😉
For NaPoWriMo and GloPoWriMo
☂🌺🌷🌸☂
April…March winds gone?
Not by much–they’ve wed, these two
Crushing hyacinths
Drowning pink cherry blossoms
Perhaps there’s hope in old rhyme…
~
April showers bring
May flowers, more-and-plenty
Would restore hearts’ joy
Prepare for love romantic
June’s bridal parties festive
~
Where would poets be
Without passion’s fantasies
(Requited, or “un”)?
Sentimental Ardor’s quests
Empty pages breathing sighs
©V.Sparrow, 2024
This quadrille is written for dVersepoets.com and for NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo
https://dversepoets.com/2024/04/01/dverse-quadrille-monday-198-fuzzy-frameworks/
Click the link above for information on participating in the dVerse Quadrille Monday prompt…the prompt word is: CONTOUR
♥♥♥♥♥
Contours of his heart
Sculpted in unforgotten face
Cheekbones’ perfect planes above
Love’s lips precisely drawn
Squared jawline: complex thoughts
Played within each clenching…
How she longed to
Smooth brow…but blue
horizon’s distance painted his
Eyes…conveyed treacherous shoreline
She would never traverse
©V.Sparrow, 2024
https://girlieontheedge1.wordpress.com/2024/03/27/its-thursdays-six-sentence-story-link-up-83/
Time for another Sundays Six Sentence Story Word Prompt (& link-up)! If you’re new to this challenge, click the link above–meet lovely host, Denise, and she’ll help you with the rules & regs (there are very few)!
Her prompt word this week: SLIDE
Despite his brother James’ advice and efforts to encourage him, and though he wasn’t prone to bouts of depression, Finn felt himself sliding into a dim valley of barren futility.
At their age–he & Bedelia both sliding toward 70 (four years since James introduced them)–two years was surely sufficient time for a friendship-courtship to bud, bloom and bear fruit of certainty regarding love and marriage, i.e., a wedding.
They must lay cards on the table, clarify their status; he would speak with her in his naturally calm-reasoning, Atticus Finch/Greg Peck voice (which, blushing, she’d once complimented); if it was unwarranted fear hampering her progress–not lack of attraction to him–he’d nudge her gently toward James, for counseling; Oh…Sunday was Easter, he’d have to let the heart-to-heart slide.
He breathed a determined manful breath, set himself to some light housekeeping (“idle hands” and all that)–but the phone rang: Bedelia.
“I’ve made your favorite, Finn–lasagna, and brownies with toffee bits for dessert; I wanted to thank you properly for rescuing me from financial ruin, the overdraft fee–you’re always so good to me; you’ll come for dinner, yes?—and, don’t mention it to James…just us two, ‘kay?“
Heart sailing, buoyed on placid glistening Puget Sound, Finn was near-speechless; (he liked this suddenly unpredictable Bedelia)–“mum’s the word, Beedee…I’ll bring parmesan-garlic bread…see you soon”.
©V.Sparrow, 2024
♥♥♥
She loved him dearly and truly, but whenever he gave her that remote look she was tempted to deck him.
“What??” she asked with exasperated impatience.
“Nothing, really,” he replied, wearing that endearing half-smile that won her heart when she was oh-so-young, and he was an older man…which he still was of course (and one or both of them seemed to be riding the rails to dementia).
“Well, I can’t read your mind, and why I even try remains a mystery to me after all these years.
But if you’re wondering what’s for dinner and when it will be ready–you requested Cornish Game Hens, they’re in the crockpot…45 minutes.”
“You dazzle me,” he said, shrugging–“woman of mercurial moods, beautiful in every turning…I don’t seem to remember why you chose me–my heart skips and stutters each time I gaze at you.”
©V.Sparrow, 2024
In case anyone’s curious about the blog’s name, years ago in an early blog…maybe 2011…I wrote this poem:
~♥~
Sometimes, the wind chimes
Play memory-songs of your
Blue-steel eyes on me.
I’m without rhythm, lyrics…
Dancing mute, stutter-stepping.
©V.Sparrow, 2024
Stutter-Stepping Seasons 