Thanks to Lillian for hosting the bar and suggesting OpenLinksNight for favorite sayings. Mine was by Eric Hoffer, “The search for happiness is one of the chief sources of unhappiness.” My poem gently follows that theme.
What do I want?
What do I want?
And you, the same?
Is it happiness?
What exactly is that?
Heath and wealth
Both common goals
But is there more?
What is enough?
Love, perhaps, or
in my perfect world?
Let’s compare notes.
You show me yours
And I’ll show you mine,
In the balance it hangs
Every important thing
about life and time.
What do you want?
And, for me, the same?
Look both ways for love and opportunity, but look within for love.
Mind the gaps for unhappy steps.
Many thanks to Rochelle @Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple for orchestrating Friday Fictioneers. The challenge is to write a story based upon a photo prompt (today she gets extra credit for providing the photo, as well). With fewer than 101 words we are challenged to contrive a beginning, middle, and an end.
Title: Pleasure Palettes
Genre: Romance (autobiographical) Fiction
Word count: 99
I was at my easel trying for a loose, semiabstract, colorful urban cityscape.
Conjetti walked in.
“Did I hear you talking to someone?”
“It was your boyfriend. He’ll call back later.”
She cleared her throat.
“Okay. It was Julie. We discussed art. She said watercolor is a metaphor for letting go.”
“And you said?”
“I told her it was like herding wet, angry cats of different colors that don’t mix well.”
She reached around and grabbed me, biting my neck.
“Follow me,” she said with a sultry gaze.
I smiled, “At your service m’lady.”
“You’d better be.”
Look both ways as
“Life imitates art far more than art imitates Life” (Oscar Wilde).
Mind the gaps of romantic truth.
Many thanks to Rochelle @Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple for orchestrating Friday Fictioneers. The challenge is to write a story based upon a photo prompt (and thanks to Jean L. Hays for that), with a beginning, middle, and an end in fewer than 101 words. This is my third venture.
Genre: Ironic (flash) Fiction
Word count: 100
Lobo and Robin met and married at the University of New Mexico following his return from Vietnam in 1970. He was from the Atchafalaya Swamp region of Louisiana, she from Montana ranch country.
Doc Robin, as she was called, was an internationally known infectious disease specialist. Lobo, a highly sought after free-lance journalist.
Their 50th anniversary party was planned for Saturday night on their rancho near Albuquerque.
“What’s in the box, Robin?”
“Designer surgical masks for the party.”
“You’ve thought of everything.”
“Not really, Babe. But it would not do for our quests to go home with COVID-19.”
Look both ways to plan a party.
Mind the gaps of the ironic mind in a literal world.
Many thanks to Rochelle @Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple for orchestrating Friday Fictioneers. The challenge is to write a story based upon a photo prompt, with a beginning, middle, and an end in fewer than 101 words. This is my second time at bat.
Genre: (Flash) Fiction: Romantic Drama
Word count: 100
Steven looked through the window at the next building as he washed dishes. His back was toward her.
Karen quietly picked up the butcher knife from the counter-top and walked toward him, the sharp tip pointed directly at his naked back.
When the point touched his skin, he turned around to face her, carefully took the knife, and slid it into the water.
Karen asked, “I didn’t frighten you?”
“I saw your reflection in the window.”
She slid into his arms. They kissed.
“Besides,” he whispered, “it’s a well-known fact, no man has ever been murdered while doing the dishes.”
Look both ways while doing dishes. Wouldn’t want to miss something.
Mind the gaps and sharp objects.
His gallivanting days now over, the old hippie rides a recliner, pets the old lap cat, takes his medicine when she tells him, and he hopes she’ll rub his neuropathic feet. He votes absentee, remembers sex and pot, and wishes things when he looks at her.
Look both ways when crossing paths.
There is no past and no future.
Mind the gaps in the circle.