https://ceenphotography.com/2022/07/26/cffc-you-make-use-of-every-day/
Tag: imagination
CMMC – April Pick a Topic from my Photo
Welcome to Cee’s Midweek Madness Challenge (CMMC), the topic is Pick Your Topic from My Photo below. Possible topics house, attic, porch, star, trees, ladder,window, door, blue, light teal or seafoam, green, red, tree, hydrangea, roses bush, neighborhood, fence, pairs, etc. What else can you come up with?
https://ceenphotography.com/2022/04/20/cmmc-april-pick-a-topic-from-my-photo-2/
CBWC: Toys for All Ages-I can remember not being able to wait for grade school to let out. I was on my bike, and playing kick-the-can until my mom yelled my name ringing through the neighborhood…the best of days too!
Fandango’s Flash Fiction #93- My baby girl, my hell
Bitter cold, bitter life, fog filled skies, fog filled eyes
Rum, or Whiskey sounds nice, boy I sure am thirsty. My heart is as cold as the winters breeze I would kill not to feel. Cut me off at my knees, anyone take pity on me please
She was just a skirt yet she took my ego, and trampled all over it. Spat on me leaving me with the lent in my pockets. Barely enough bus fair. She don’t care
She don’t care as I stand here not able to feel my fingers in wait for another hour or more. Even the score. I just wish my heart would stop aching, and body shaking. Her words cut me like a knife, she ain’t nothing special what am I so worked up for
A gal like her is a dime, and dozen. She painted her face on, looked like a clown. Her hair thin, and ratty. Always pulled in a bun. She might as well have been a nun. Hell who am I kidding, she had me wrapped tight around her ring finger
She ain’t never given me anything I want. She was a nag, a holler. I might as well have worn a damn dog collar. Why am I so torn inside, I don’t get the confusion of my brain. Am I insane. Did I enjoy being her boy toy. All take no give
Kicking the snow with my head down I see the tread of a tire. I hear a skid-dish stop. “Hey you, good lookin’.” “Hop in baby, let’s get you back home where you belong.”
I look up from my shoes, in know of that voice. There she was my baby girl, her hair so neatly pulled back in her bun. Her rouge up her cheekbones in a nice set of stripes. My girl, she came for me. Her lipstick smudged with cigarette dangling. She was gangly, but she was mine
I eagerly jumped into the passengers seat, and gave her a big wet kiss on the cheek. She was everything I had ever wanted in a woman. She came back for me. She wants me, and I am sure I will be sleeping on the couch again. Haven’t felt her skin in years. Man I need a drink, a beer anything will do. I need my beer goggles, dammit I think I am insane. In play of her game
I don’t care it is better than anything I can find out there, and I am now out of the bitter cold. She is my skirt, and I know I ain’t get nothing from there. She don’t care, but she is my baby girl. I gotta take care of her. She needs me, and the money I work hard for provides for her wants. My life I am in the passenger seat once again, with her scratchy nicotine scathed voice waiting for her nag and holler
She turned up the music, and screeched her car tires. She didn’t say hi, she just started playing to the beat of the song on her steering wheel. She bobbed her head, and blew smoke my way with each verse. She was a curse, and I was under her spell. Her perfume a musky smell, now once again my hell
Oh well at least she was my hell, and nobody else’s. I sure hope she stops at the first convenience store, I really do need a drink. Ahhh this is the life, God she is a beauty, that rouge so perrrrtyyy
https://fivedotoh.com/2020/11/23/fandangos-flash-fiction-challenge-93/
Drip, and drizzle from within
I sit under low lamp light with quill resting in my hand just right, simply a beautiful sight
Dip, the tip dripping with emotions in the most elegant calligraphy
The feather flirts with the paper in tickles as it writes
Dip the pen into the ink pot, as my thoughts are escaping from within, fleeing to papers spot
The quill makes the heart quiver, as the writer in me comes to life at its sight. Drizzling words the final draft
Leaking my soul for all to uphold the feather take flight upon the paper that is my heart. Art!
Dribbling to no end, hand cramps. Just one more trickle, and its final splash. Declaring “The End”
Feather light put back in it spot, as the lamp is turned off. Writer’s delight to have waltzed delicately in cursive perfectly
Until we me again, me and that gorgeous feather quill pen. Corybantic to no end, I could pick it up with never ending fervor
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2020/28/20/corybantic
Weirds Are Word 