Give Me, Sister Silence

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 lambs
must sit on silent hills, searching Google in Thrace
Satyr Silenus, do you hear, your drunken nights
by Dionysus's side have all led you to make a king
turn 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 love
I don't need the win, just directions home
from here to there. Give me Jesus. Please.
Give Me One Reason [Song by Tracy Chapman]

Sea Tale

Gifts from the sea, some called them. Once there washed up a shack, whole, an eye-catching man within, seal-brown his hair. The tunes he could sing, when the winds around the water took wing.

She spied him sometimes by moonlight at the water’s edge, secretive, saw him take out a seal skin, disappear within, into cold depths. Then one night, twin shapes followed after.

Alone, she managed, bled, bided her time, calling out across the water, “Selkie!” People wondered.

When two children washed ashore, one seal-brown, the other raven-haired, we knew. Far inland, she kept their pelts hidden. Selkies nevermore.

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook
Genre: Folklore 
Word count: 100 
written for Rochelle Wisoff-Fields's Friday Fictioneers 
click on the frog for more tales of a hundred words or less. 
And join the fun!

Color Me Zany

Weekend Writing Prompt #176
Crayola Experience in Easton, PA

Y’all know there’s red, white, blue
Violet, purple and cerulean too
Jazzberry jam, purple mountains’ majesty
Canary, cornflower and fuzzy wuzzy
But strike me dumb if ever you see
A spectrum as mind-blowing as ZANY
Not even a Crayola box can contain
The uncanniness like an outrageous grin
For when you happen to chance upon it
Everything’s a subject for merry wit!

Power Ritual

The senex stared at the garlic, the little cast-iron pot. Should she summon the Old One? What would it demand this time? But half her staff had been taken, the other half, turned. The chorus-women deserted. Once again the child zealots had led them astray.

She removed the pot, chanting:

The Outsider’s here, siddle-siddle, hiss
Lay the garlic in the pan, make yourself a wish
Round about it go, dance in despair
I’m the one who betrays with a siddle-siddle, kiss.

If only there were some other way to be re-elected.

But at what cost? At what cost??

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson
word count: 100  
written for Rochelle's Friday Fictioneers  
click on Rochelle Wisoff-Fields's hand-drawing of the frog  
for more tales of a hundred words or less. And join the fun!

Sky-verse To You

I’m skating it, free-wheeling it
Somersaulted skyward by the infinite jest of it
That I could be winging it, barrel-rolling
Like Icarus to the very summit of it
Unburned by it, cascading liberating fall of it
Caught in it, unbound through it, Your love.

For dVerse's Quadrille #112: The Sky’s the Limit (in 44 words)
Click on Mr. Linky for more and join in!

Inspiration

 

https://rochellewisoff.com/2020/08/19/21-august-2020/
18 September 2020, Rochelle Wissoff-Fields, Friday Fictioneers

img_20200801_121107

 



Inspiration

“You can’t be serious, Maude!”
“And just why can’t I, Fred? Twenty baby showers I’ve been to this August and I’m fed up!”
“But it’s your own niece’s, Maude!”
“Fred, we’ve spent a fortune on her already! Graduation from art school, and did you see the garbage that passed for modern art?! Then her birthday, bridal shower, now . . . .”
“Okay, okay! But a baby chair somebody threw out with the garbage, that’s going too far!”
(pause) “Is it garbage though? Or an art exhibit? Fred! Take a picture! Let’s take it all! Just the way it is!”

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot
word count: 100 
written for Rochelle's Friday Fictioneers 
click on Rochelle Wisoff-Fields's hand-drawing of the frog for more 
tales of a hundred words or less. 
And join the fun!hand-drawing-animal-frog-wearing-face-medical-mask-covid-protection-methods-coronavirus-quarantine-warning-vector-178410566

Take A Look

Sammi’s WWP

“You can use any format or style you like; go wherever your inspiration takes you.”

9-12-2020

Overcrowded

Take a look, see, books everywhere!
Under my bed, over couches and chairs
Could they be breeding under the stairs?
I must rectify this untenable nightmare
Another book I’ll not buy, even on a dare!

Share Your World 9-7-2020

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (2007)

We’re into week five of SYW’s two-parter, with Share Your World meeting the world of Harry Potter. We’re answering Melanie’s muggle-themed queries alongside those of Roger, this time with The Order of the Phoenix in mind. Check out everyone’s answers and join in.

Continue reading “Share Your World 9-7-2020”

3LineTales – Paradox

Here’s a little something for Sonya’s Three Line Tales!

photo by Nimesh Basu via Unsplash

PARADOX

She has her freedom: the wide canvas of the sky says so, the blazing fields and the cries of meadowlarks say so, and her precision android sensors register no more signs of human life where her raging fury had taken their toll.

She starts to divest herself of the multiplex visor and armor, ready to access her GPS for directional input, then freezes.

Her revenge is complete, so complete that now there is nowhere to go, because now there is no one left to go to.

3LineTales — Seamus & the Sea

Here’s a little something for Sonya’s Three Line Tales!

Screen Shot 2020-07-24 at 12.23.46 PM
photo by Callum MacAulay

There were only three voices Seamus could hear now: his own, his fiddle’s and the sound of the sea as it washed over him, telling the secrets of the sky and the deep.

“I’m just a poor fiddle player,” Seamus would say to the tourists on the ship when they stayed to listen to his song unveiling secrets of their hearts.

Yet it was just one song, one tune, only one secret he knew: a hidden kingdom unknown to many who listened but could not hear.