Mating Season

When light lustily touches
cherried chandeliers
like love shack lampshades,
fall frustrates
our sense of the seasons.

Leafs left melting, molting               morph
into fuchsias — forthright fusiform unfurlers
opening upside down to the amative earth
staring into the supple sensuousness.

Their petals pastel peduncled penumbras
with erogenous intentions —
voiding waldsterben,
willing winter’s gestation.

*The image is not my property, but the visual prompt for the associated challenge, and presumed commonly available.*

First Day on the Job

PHOTO PROMPT - ©Claire Fuller

Photo prompt courtesy and copyright property of Claire Fuller via Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ Friday Fictioneer event. Others’ contributions may be discovered here, where you may participate as well.

First Day on the Job

“I don’t understand that sign.”
“What sign?”
“The one up there. It says, ‘Fire exit,’ but all I see are shelves. Knobs and shelves. No escape.”
“It’s just there to guide people out of the building in case of fire.”
“No, I don’t think that’s it. I think it’s a sign.”
“…Yes, it is a sign. A safety sign.”
“I think it’s a warning.”
“‘A warning’?”
“That if I turn the knobs and step between those shelves, I will lose my flame.”
“That’s ridiculous! Just get to work.”
“But—”
“No ‘buts.’ Here, starting filing.”
“Fine.”
“Remember,… wait! Where’d you go?”


Guilt-riddled self-promotion time!

Rites of Passage

As you may have deduced, that’s my name and a story I wrote that was actually accepted somewhere! (Warning: it contains implicitly “mature” content.) I’ve been writing for almost a decade(?!), but have never had consistent enough nerve to let my smudgelings loose unto the world. This was only the third piece of writing I’ve ever submitted for publication to any organization outside of my universities (one was admittedly bunk and the other was to an incredibly exclusive publisher). What I mean to say is that participating in challenges such as this one and others hosted at Micro Bookends, Three Line Thursday, Grammar Ghoul Press, and yeah, write has been quite a boost to my confidence, and I am exponentially grateful for that. In other words, thank you for reading!

Oh, and be sure to check out those challenges if they spur your interest; they’re of the more “competitive” nature (with judging and votes and whatnot), but supportive communities nonetheless. 101 Words would surely welcome your contributions, as well. They even offer a monthly prize and are willing to provide constructive criticism! (You can find them through the title image for my story. And yes, not providing a link elsewhere is an underhanded attempt to get you to read it.)

An Alliterative Lament (Trapped in a Cave)

The truncated cadence of a troubadour’s tongue
echoes eons after its utterance, embracing and
tracing trenchantly toothy stalactites
starved for sustenance, sadly
deaf to the delicious
carillon caged in the cavern’s canines
listless amidst the lusciousness of lilting lines.

(I’m sometimes at a loss when it comes to operating elements of modern technology and can’t rightly attach another badge here for some reason unbeknownst to me, but the results page for this challenge issued by Grammar Ghoul Press may be found here instead.)

Raising Tuition

PHOTO PROMPT - © C.E.Ayr

Photo Prompt courtesy and copyright property of C.E. Ayr via Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ Friday Fictioneers event. Find/submit other takes on the prompt here. (Instructions on how to do so at the purple link above.)

Raising Tuition

Rain ended the Tigers game early. Everyone ran for the concourse, abandoning their trash in the downpour. And though I am sopping wet, I must scavenge the upper deck. It’s my way out, after all.

Here, I’m almost level with one of the humpbacks. I’m so close to rising from this crumbling city. So close to breaking through the substances suffocating velleity. So close to breaching the enclosures of my urban universe. The whales on the tower out in right field remind me that I don’t have to drown.

But I must work fast, before the rain washes us away.


Note of Disclosure:

Though the mural intended as the prompt is from Vancouver, Canada, I instantly thought of a similar painting in Detroit, Michigan. As it turns out, that wasn’t a preposterous leap; they are both “Wyland Walls” painted by Robert Wyland, a series of 100 murals across the world intended to raise awareness about marine life (all 100 available at the link, along with information about the Wyland Foundation). The “Whale Tower” is painted on the Broderick Building and stands out on the Detroit skyline if you’re looking out from Comerica Park (home of Major League Baseball’s Detroit Tigers). Unfortunately, the building’s owners regularly drape the entire mural in advertisements when it may be most visible/profitable (like when the World Series comes to town (that was a dreadful sight)) and have no intention of preserving it. Anyway, it remains intact and visible, so long as the Tigers don’t make a deep playoff run (not likely a concern this year) and until the elements strip it away.

File:Comericapano.jpg

(Image copyright property of Triphook, found on the “Comerica Park” Wikipedia page.)

An Outsider’s Address to an Antiquatedly Vigilant Border

Your sentinel eyes remain
as clear as ever,
but it’s time
you rest
your weary, weighty head
and attend
to the travesties
ravishing your taste buds.

I hope this functions as a standalone, but as the badge may suggest, this poem was prompted by The Grammar Ghoul Press and based upon the image provided there. Feel free (read: encouraged) to check out others’ responses and/or provide your own.