A door and antique latch found in Charleston, I presume in South Carolina - Image offered by Tess Kincaid as a writing prompt on Mag 172.
How Did We End Up Here?
Whatever you do
do not open that old farm
door, do not go up
to it even...do
not step on that splintered porch.
The dog on guard ran
off after rabid
coons and the cow's got a bloat
as you can very
well hear from the yard.
Where are the chickens, I ask.
There are no chickens.
The moss is killing the trees
down this muddy lane.
Am I ever glad
I just dream this strange shit up.
It's true. My mind is
a terrible thing.
June 9, 2013 9:47 AM
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Now whatever the state of your mind may be, that's one beautiful piece of ironmongery.
ReplyDelete(And that rhyme, you see.)
Heh. I shall be a wordsmith...
DeleteThat starting line, just draws the read in
ReplyDeleteSharp and slick; well done.
ReplyDeleteThat sounds like a timely warning; the trouble is when we're told don't do a thing, we go right ahead and .......
ReplyDeleteI know... You just can't tell me what to do...
Delete'Whatever you do' ... if that was ever an invitation to doing the wrong thing, I don't know what is! Loved this.
ReplyDeleteImagination is worth a mint... :)
ReplyDeleteAwesomely done! Very cool
ReplyDeleteIt just shows how wonderful dreams can be!
ReplyDeleteWonderful strange shit! (I sometimes wonder about what I dream up too...)
ReplyDeleteAnna :o]
Touched by this beautiful writing......
ReplyDeleteuniverse will not hand it over to you