Nothing in you, nothing in me, Nothing as far as eye can see Nothing to say who made me, Nothing makes itself plain to me Nothing will be my guide and creed No absolutes but what my thoughts decree Ruler of my own destiny Master of sky, land and sea No limit to whatever desires mingle, set free It’s all about me, from A to Z I’m free to decide what’s best for me What’s wrong for you may be right for me Ask Mother Nature, what’s cruelty? Evolution’s progress, look at me! [SPLAT!] – Last sounds of Nobigbug Butméé
Genre: Poetry Word Count: 100
I’ve been rather under the weather lately but roused myself to participate in Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers and Eugi’s Weekly Prompt. I’ve read many of the entries already and am inspired. Eugi asks us to use any variation on the top photo or the word prompt (“mingle”). Rochelle asks that we use the photo prompt (above) and limit our words to 100 or less. Check them out!
Lisa at dVerse asks us to write a quadrille (poem of 44 words) using the word “way.” Here’s my drowsy offering as midnight creeps closer. Click on Mr. Linky to join in!
When sleep comes my way darkness warm like mother’s milk lulls my hungry wakeful eyes, I sink at last in ocean light to caverns deep where you await a Prospero’s Ariel caught betwixt reflections of the world above and the mirrors of my mind.
It’s “Meeting the Bar” at dVerse, where Bjorn asks us to use the autocomplete function in Google to generate lists that transport us to imaginative poetic heights. Check them out by clicking Mr. Linky and join in!
I began with typing in “Give me” as a search term which led me down rabbit holes ending with typing in “silence” midway, trying to find my way out of the dark wood in which I’d ended. Beware Google.
Give me one reason, sister silence,
give me directions home, oh sister do you hear?
give me the time of day a nightingale sings
Silent bays, skies, silent rage and silent lambsmust sit on silent hills, searching Google in ThraceSatyr Silenus, do you hear, your drunken nightsby Dionysus's side have all led you to make a kingturn a daughter's flesh to gold, oh, oh, oh!
Give me liberty sits enthroned, untutored,
give me love lyrics for dirty ears, Alexa!
ask tongueless Philomela, oh sister hear!
"inappropriate predictions" don't you think?
Google, show me the severed head of Itys unmourned
unseen, "I'm feeling lucky," tereu, tereu
Non, silento! Basta! Enough! Give me loveI don't need the win, just directionshome
from here to there. Give me Jesus. Please.
She came sailing in — foxgloves in murder digitalis shape-shifters in book-covered heat an Austen novel in her head pharmacopœia of bottled lust in everyone else’s closet Gothic unholstered in a room of Macbeths unshriven, exhumed desire — sailing in, lighting torches blanketed fire, lavender swan.
The late heather blooms In wild array, scent chill fogs Fall’s breeze, through mists, bogs Take hold of moors, mount the heights, Stay, watch summer’s sweet demise.
Image attribution: wikipedia
Written for Jude's The Saturday Symphony #13:"Rhythm of Autumn"
-- Let us go retro this week and share a thought on the season, with rhyme and flow.Sammi's Weekend Writing Prompt: Using the word "Heather" write prose or poem in exactly 27 words
Broken shadows across the cracked ground your grave day lost in flurried words like September leaves across yesterday’s hallowed ground grief yet uninterred: you six years gone from my sight till Day breaks.