#WyldeVerse Prompt: joy ride

you stole me
stamped my pedals
pushed my buttons
to see how
I could go
sent me careening
down wild
winding roads
screaming
for joy
screeching
in fear
slamming
the brakes
you abandoned me here
joy ride over
goodbye lover

MadVerse Prompt: Do you believe in parallel worlds/dimensions to ours?

On the other side,
across a divide
no thicker than
the blink of an eye,
is a world where
you stayed & did not go.
Are we happier there?
I don't know.
I hope so.

MadVerse Prompt: What bewilders you the most about the world?

viscous floor slips beneath falls up
an MC Escher Möbius mix of maybes
shoulds become shouldn'ts
coulds become couldn'ts
always slip sideways 
into yesterdays
into neverweres
neverwheres everywhere
as memories writ in ink
melt in rivers of tears
and dry again in the bleaching sun
years lost and trust gone
 

WrittenRiver Prompt - art prompt

the butterflies stopped their flittering
no more quivering within me

i could not let them die
so set them free
floating memory
that they may
flock and flutter
for another young lover

beautiful painted wings
without me still sing



Art by Joel Robison

WyldeVerse: bound heart

now I tie but loosely in a bow
no more palomar, square, bowline, hitch
not even a simple double knot to bind me
nothing that may tangle and so find me
cutting at the line that once again has
misaligned me and as before bound heart
trussed sans trust to stony woe

SenseWrds Prompt: twisting, undeniable, ink

not writ but etched indelible
as on a marble marker
set on the hillside
of a heart forever true
to tell the tale of one
who swung for what
she did not do

meeting

warmth begins in my toes
and grows and grows and grows
suffuses through my body
until it emanates as light
transforms my nervous visage
to a smile beaming at high wattage
the joy of being measured
and not found wanting
in a situation daunting
grin sans chagrin
for once
in some small measure
I win

MadVerse: When you're feeling down/alone what's your go-to comfort thing?

it does not end, but ease
not cure but balm
the texture of the page
against my palm
climb inside a book
forget my woes
disappointments of the day
fade away in prose