Tag Archives: Totally Optional Prompts

Oh celery

… celery intruded by means of untraceable association. Continue reading

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A look around, departure & let loose poem

so foregoing the white floc and only taking a sip from the
white armagnac that had come by post from that
part of France in a small bottle labeled “eau de
muses” to prevent any kind of customs troubles Continue reading

Posted in Bland observations, Bob Dylan, Creative writing, Film, Frank O'Hara, Happy poem, Life, Literature, Love, Movies, Poetry, Sweet dreams and nightmares, Time, Writing | Tagged , , | 2 Comments

Fleeting memory

A sleeting splash grazing the side window – a blur of car rushing by – James Steerforth ( © 2008 ) For One Single Impression’s Fleeting. Also a free contribution to Totally Optional Prompts.

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Elegy on August Sunday

For A. It’s Sunday morning and speechless apart from the dog I already took on a walk and reprimanded to speed up a few times While I felt free to stop here and there to pick the ripest berries To … Continue reading

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Culinary delight

“That tastes like deep-fried gravel!” I complained and was thrown out. It had been “nid d’hirondelle sur lit de roses” on the menu. Not a trace of bed or rose. But that wonderful gravelly feeling on teeth and tongue – … Continue reading

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My heart, my heart

My heart, my heart don’t lie to me as you’ve done in the past Or maybe you didn’t lie to me – you heard a song and misunderstood the words – James Steerforth For Totally Optional Prompts. The prompt ‘reflections … Continue reading

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Tender children of the hurricane

Clad in violet, Rodrigo murmurs of the blue hammer, and how it, unbridled, and with precise swiftness, pulses, so that all butterflies fly up, a brightly colored powder cloud. And Natasha opens her beet-red mouth and lark throat, and cries … Continue reading

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Tell me about something that will stay forever

“Like, will you stay forever?” Nutan said. “I’ll try. But eventually I’ll have to go. And you might have to go before that.” “Where would I go?” “Study, for example. At a school in some other town.” “I would never … Continue reading

Posted in Art, Creative writing, Flash fiction, India, Life, Literature, Time, Writing | Tagged , , , , | 1 Comment

A tale of two cowbirds

Corinna was Orrin’s mother. What he didn’t know was that Barry was not his indigenous father. Rowland had planted his seed, determined to procreate conveniently, to only have one thing to do with it. Barry loved Orrin like his own. … Continue reading

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What I told Clothilde

“It’s spring, and you’re late, my love.” Had she been quicker of mind, she might have asked me what her being late had to do with spring. She took it as what it was meant – a carefree acknowledgment with … Continue reading

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The Maggots

At sunset, on the river bank, Krishna Loved her for the last time and left… That night in her husband’s arms, Radha felt So dead that he asked, What is wrong, Do you mind my kisses, love? and she said, … Continue reading

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The plunging pool at Tovara, Nayarit

In my mind now: Billy Vaughn playing a glaring Las Golondrinas Back then – The rope swing above the Tovara pool, a round hole at the end of a long, narrow passage through mangrove – and splash into the dark … Continue reading

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