19: Blink

Blink and you’ll miss it,
the old woman said
and before you know it,
it’ll be the end

and you’ll realize too late
that you’ve yet to step out that door
even if you have no idea yet
what treasures to look for

for there’s so much to see
out there in the sun
so much to experience
before this short life is done

a kind smile
can light up one’s day
or just a look that says you care
when there’s nothing left to say

So stop your worrying,
don’t wait too late
take that step you’ve been dreaming of
there’s so much at stake.

via Daily Prompt: Blink


she draws all her women
facing ahead, seeing only what she sees
before her
maybe nothing, maybe everything
reminding her she’s got to get

she draws them with halos
though they are far from saints
scarred and always alone
she draws them for she knows them
they all live
inside her soul


500 years from now, an archaeologist accidentally stumbles on the ruins of your home, long buried underground. What will she learn about early-21st-century humans by going through (what remains of) your stuff?


I have way too much stuff,
more than can fit in this little cottage.
Too many books, more than I can ever read –
of stories, there is no shortage

and if someone might one day dig in
should they really be that interested
they’d find nothing but dust where paper had once been
belonging to one so terribly afflicted

for the love of words, and of wondrous tales
if only they’d been passed on and on
for paper, it crumbles into dust and nothing more
just dust, and then it’s gone.

Daily Prompt

12 Again

In a reversal of Big, the Tom Hanks classic from the 80s, your adult self is suddenly locked in the body of a 12-year-old kid. How do you survive your first day back in school?

I could look at it two ways, being 12 again –
it’s like standing at the gates of hell
where the choice is still not mine, and when
others will only tell me what to do
again and again and again

Or I could see this as a second chance
another moment for me to shine –
even though I could never shine back then,
and I doubt it will happen again
this time.

But it’s worth a try
what else can I do –
but do 12-yeard old things again,
even if it’s the last thing
I want to do.

Daily Prompt




It was Brooke Shields’ face staring at me from the cover
of some forgotten magazine now; she with her
beautiful blue eyes and million-dollar smile, and the
words I’d never seen before next to whatever was
in style.  Chameleon, it said, though there was another word
before it; but I didn’t even register it for I’d just learned
a new word that seemed to fit
the image of me the way I wanted to be, never to be as
beautiful as she was but if anything, free
and like a chameleon, I wanted to be just like her
changing, adapting, becoming whatever was asked of her.
But in my case, there would be no camera, no lights,
there would be no fawning fans; just darkness and confusion
far ahead, and lies disguised as plans
but a chameleon I was going to be, I’d become tough and
hard as nails; nothing to hurt me, nothing to bring me down,
I wished my skin be thick with scales
where words would never hurt me for they could never find me,
not when I’d disappear like a chameleon, and become this thing
that could move so fluidly – so reptilian.  I’d blend in
with everything around me, so no one could see me –
the child constantly picked on because she was different,
weaving her tales of wonder, her stories of escape, off to a world
of her own where there was no pain or hate.
So chameleon I would become, with no set ambition but to blend in,
There would be no cameras, no lights nor fans, just the need
to find somewhere safe to begin.

Daily Prompt