“It was a dark and stormy night ...”

It was a dark and stormy night
The shadows moved around the room
With the swaying of the solitary light
Spreading a macabre sense of doom

There was one, particularly dark and long
That inched its way stealthily from under the door
With each grain of dust and inch, it grew more strong
Dragging its footless hem along the skirting of the floor.

The pair lay arm in arm, upstairs in bed
Bound by Fear and passions flaring high
Torrid perspiration their worried foreheads fled
The fear of discovery giving out an occasional sigh.

How long would this last ? He’d have to take the gamble
Steeling himself, he smiled at her in consolation
Then got off the bed without much preamble
His mind set to end this frightened isolation

Disentangling himself, he decided to be brave
Donning an armor of Bravado and head wearing a frown
He crept downstairs where the situation was getting grave
With luck , he knocked down the intruder ...CHARLIE BROWN !!!

The food bowl tottered and Charlie lay in a sprawl
Snoopy gave Charlie's face a lick of delight
Then he woofed loudly and gave Woodstock a call!
Presently on his rickety typewriter, his fingers flew light ....

“It was a dark and stormy night ...”


Writer's Island /28 March 2008/Prompts " "The Gamble" & "Torrid"

The Venus Flytrap.

Alluringly soft

Her moist red lips

Curled into a smile that missed her eyes

Burning hot

His drunken dimmed sight

Saw only the dimples on her cheeks

Insistently urgent

His yearning firm arms

Longed for her smooth supple skin

Coyly inviting

Her half teasing smile

Drew him quicker to her side

Intensely happy

His trusting young face

Rested most eagerly on her willing shoulder

Mockingly cruel

Her disdainful eyes

Unseen by his gullible juvenile inexperience

Lavishly abundant

His inexhaustible reserve

Of Youth ..of Wealth..Of confidence in the future

Abhorringly sad

This torrid affair

The repetitive gamble of THE VENUS FLYTRAP .

Writer's Island / 28 March 2008 /Prompts : "The Gamble" and "Torrid"

My Baby.

As the Night throbbed to the pulsating starlight
Resting on the down, my dreams took a winged flight.

Some of the lanes were brightly lit and other were dark alleys.
Reminders of moments joyous and others of regrets and follies.

I suddenly heard someone whimper and weep
And I was awakened from my flighty sleep.

I kissed her little forehead and stroked her gently
And the two of us were dozing again presently.

She wagged her little tail and woofed in delight
As both of us this time, took that dreamy flight .

We wandered and walked as happy as we could be
Just to be together, in each other’s company.

I suddenly realised she wasn’t by my side
And lay looking rather forlorn by the wayside.

As she looked up at me with those big imploring eyes
I rushed back to her muttering concerned cries .

I picked her up to find ,under her long floppy ear
Was caked blood and a still oozing tear .

As my feet turned cold, I shut my eyes
Which I opened to see the glow of sunrise.

And she stood by my bed saying in her doggie talk
That I should wake up and take her for her walk !

Cookie and I , we walked another couple of years
I watched while she wagged or flapped her long ears.

Then one day she needed a routine operation
And we kept her “nil by mouth” in preparation.

When the deed was done , in her basket I put her.
Her complaining whimpers soon grew to a whisper.

I fussed and talked to her in a comforting voice.
She just looked on with those glistening brown eyes.

With a gush of love I picked up her head
Only to find she’d stopped breathing and was now dead.

I turned her head to see the tear in the ear and the caked blood
I was racked with agony as my tears came out in a flood.

My recurrent dream had come true
For indeed this was déjà vu.





Writer's Island prompt /21 March 2008 : "Déjà vu."

Déjà vu

The setting sun framed her face

Highlighting her infinite beauty and grace.

An errant lock brushed her cheek.

Attempting my straying attention to pique.

From the crescent of her lips escaped an alluring smile

To mask her joy, her efforts were deemed futile.

Her welcoming arms , warm with her fragrance

Eased off the pain and held me in a trance.

Against her soft and familiar chest

I finally lay my weary head to rest .

No, I do not relive the past .

But live as I breathe my very last.

So many times I lived the moment of Death

That now when this was truly my last breath

“Been there , done that “ was all I could think

While standing at Life’s precipitous brink.

There was this sense of déjà vu ...

Has this ever happened to you ?

Writer's Island prompt /March 21st, 2008 : Déjà vu

An Apple ..from Eden.

An apple
Half eaten
Juicy and white
A forbidden last night.
An apple
Half eaten
Skin so smooth to touch
Deliciously sweet and irresistible as such.
An apple
Half eaten
Bitten to pips and core
A burning desire for some more
An apple
Half eaten
Jagged edges getting brown
Uncontrollable urges in which to drown.
An apple
Half eaten
Now rapidly decaying
Lustful bonds quickly fraying
An apple
Half eaten
All black and rotten
Cold as ashes and soon forgotten.

Spellbound- Writer's Island Prompt

Aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it deosn't mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoetnt tihng is taht the frist and lsat ltteer be at the rghit pclae. The rset can be a toatl mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit porbelm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe.

This article I read spellbound with fascination

About the human mind and of letter juxtaposition.

A wrong spelling, now that doesn’t matter much

As long as it contains all the original letters as such.

The letters in the middle can be any which way arranged

As long as the ones at the beginning and end are unchanged !!

While my amazement for the human mind certainly grew

And with its immense capability for the abstract to construe,

I was ever so clearly and extremely astound

When I realised that the’wrod was deinfetily ‘ spell-bound !!!

For the mind was not totally unfettered ...though however free

For , to recognise the finite word, it had its limits to see ..

The beginning and the end of the spelling of the word were bound

To their places , no matter how you tossed, those in the middle, around .

So very like Life, now wouldn’t you agree ?

We know our beginning and our end , you see.

And it is up to us what we make of the middle

And exactly what we read into Life’s enigmatic riddle.