Written for Cinquain Poetry Prompt #28.
Our inspiration word is “survive”.
This is my mirror cinquain.
Tag: Dark
Rock Bottom
Written for AI Drabble, a new challenge from
Mike Jackson where there are two main rules:
1) all written work must be exactly 100 words;
2) all written work must be AI generated.
We are provided with a word prompt and an image.
All ideas/suggestions are mine as interpreted by Claude AI.
The Archivist
Written for Only Murders In My Mind
Weekly Writing Prompt #71 and the
photo prompt shown below.
Here’s where the image took me.
Moonspell: A Haibun
Written for Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Photo Challenge #513,
Weekly Prompts Colour Challenge (orange), Moonwashed Weekly
Prompt (hazy moon) & Weekly Prompts Wednesday Challenge (regret)
I was lost, a bit frightened and filled with regret for not making a note of the address. A hazy moon began to make her appearance in the evening sky, leaving the tiny Palermo street awash in a warm orange glow. Squinting in the darkness, I saw what appeared to be a tunnel at the end of the street; there was no way I was going to walk into the black unknown. Slowly I inched closer and discovered the tunnel was actually a stairway. Just as I quickened my pace, an arm shot out of a hidden doorway and pulled me inside, pinning me against a wall. A deep voice I knew intimately whispered in honeyed Sicilian tones “Picchì ci haiu misu tantu tempu, amuri miu? Ti vogghiu beni!”º Passionate kisses drifted down my neck. Breathless, I murmured “I’m here now, my love. Show me.”
Kiss me now, my love,
In the warm glow of the moon
You possess my heart
NAR©2024
º“What took you so long, my love? I am burning for you.”
This is the Flamingos with “I Only Have Eyes For You”
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NAR©2017-present.
MISS JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE
Their house sits high upon a cliff
With water and rocks all around.
But something stinks, just take a whiff;
You don’t need no bloody bloodhound.
Such a lovely couple when they were out;
Good looking and dressed oh so fine.
There was never a reason for people to doubt
Their union was anything but sublime.
However, one thing could not be denied:
The young lass she never did smile.
With eyes often red as if she’d just cried,
A certain fear one could sense for a mile.
As fine as they looked, one dared not approach;
They were cloaked in a dark shroud of danger.
She seemed to annoy him and he would reproach
With words filled with malice and anger.
She was prim and proper, always quiet and shy,
While the blade acted pompous and proud.
It was obvious to all; we soon found out why:
He liked mocking her in a voice overloud
A week or two passed with nary a sight
Of the couple we called Jekyll and Hyde.
We all had our theories which gave us a fright,
A feeling Miss Jekyll had horribly died.
Some folks say our claims are nothing but folly,
People getting carried away with their thoughts.
But Hyde came to town like a peacock so jolly,
To pick up a large jar he just bought.
Now on Hyde’s arm is a red-headed floozy
As flashy as the peacock himself.
Her perfume smells cheap while he is all boozy.
And a jar with Miss Jekyll’s head sits on a shelf.
NAR © 2021
The Elephant's Trunk 