Category Archives: One Word

One Rainbow Word

One Word prompt: paintbrush

paint it blueicon1
paint it anything
but what it is
we see in colors of hurt
or love
pigment of heart or mind
or memory
memory to be
sunsets laying down peace
in warm hues strong blends
to soft to grey to gone
then dawn
the pieces of clouds with the rainy morn
white the fog
the golden afternoon
the green youth
citrus ripe and ready the canvas
credentials leaving blanks
to fill in later
sketched, blocked
with lines so clean
plenty of time for muddy
later  as the blend
the mix, the shades unsure
we have all the colors in the box
don’t worry about the lines
we all see what we want
what we carry
what we lost
painted over
hung on the wall
framed in dark
for some to see
my colors
can you see them

Three Cents

One Word prompt: penny and fiction in 58 times three

A new love, bright as a new penny, not touched or spent like it would become later.  Who thinks about later at the start when it is all light and hope.  Later doesn’t get attention until it’s too late to do anything about it.  Hindsight is useless.  It develops when we’re too far down the path to change.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Penny for your thoughts?”  He said.  But he didn’t really mean it.  He wanted at least ten dollars worth so he could use it against her, punish her for some transgression she didn’t even understand and didn’t commit.  It was always the same.  He would get her to open the wound and then he would twist the knife.

~~~~~~~~~~

It felt good, walking in the sun.   She threw a penny into the pool, making a wish.    A kid bumped her as he ran by with his mother chasing after him.  “I’m sorry”  she blurted as she ran past, arm outstretched towards him.  “It’s okay.” I said, smiling at my reflection in the pool, and it would be.

~~~~~~~~~~

grahamtastic

Reading One Word At a Time

One Word prompt: paperback

All she wanted was a few moments of peace and a cup of coffee.  Not that fancy, flavored, skinny mocha  latte mochachino crap – just coffee.  She found a seat over in the corner and tiredly pulled her paperback out of her bag.  She opened it and leaned her head on one hand so that her face was partially hidden by the book.  She peeked over the cover at the room.

There were a couple of girls at the next table rattling on about the VMA awards and could you believe they were wearing the same dress?  “Wasn’t he a HAWT-E?  OMG  BFF” until she saw lips moving but heard chipmunk chatter.

A couple sat at a table in the middle and while HE went on and on about some political position that she just couldn’t possibly understand or of course she would agree with him.  Unfortunately visionary that he was, he totally missed his girlfriend flipping him off under the table or the bored yawn as she turned and glanced at me.  She  rolled her eyes.
The kid behind the counter was smiling too big and cheerful as she took orders and money and steamed milk, poured flavor and mashed lids on cardboard yuppie cups, now insulated to stave off litigation from crybaby patrons looking to get rich.

She dropped her eyes back to the book.  The picture on the cover was of some trashy looking girl with tattoos and cleavage, but the story wasn’t half bad.  Werewolves and shapeshifters, fantasy escape from irritating executives and brainless girls in four inch heels that robbed the blood from their heads.

She finished the coffee and stuffed the book back in her bag.  She dropped her cup and napkin in the trash can and thanked a kid with way too many piercings as he held the door for her and she walked to the bus stop.

She grabbed the rail as the door whooshed open and pulled herself up the steps, dropping her tokens in the container.  She found a window seat near the back and caught her reflection in the window as she plopped down on the cracked vinyl.  There were new lines around her eyes and more gray in her hair every day.  Some birthday.

Nissa Meets Simon

One Word prompts yesterday and today: oak and shower

Sunday Scribbling prompt: hunger

Nissa woke to rain dripping off the leaves of the ivy that had grown lovingly around the giant old oak.  She had curled up in the cradle made by roots that had wandered out and down through the cool dirt.  Leaves that had fallen over years and velvety moss had made this a favorite summer spot to daydream.  Daydream and watch the old man work his garden.  She had spent more and more time here lately.  Her mum had changed and while she was never mean, she was just sort of not there.  Nissa couldn’t really put a name on it, she frightened her.  She used to sing while she worked and she would hug Nissa and chase her around the yard laughing, more like a sister than a mother.

These days she just went through the motions.  The house was clean and supper was cooked, but she never smiled or sang and when she wasn’t working she would sit at the table and stare at the fire as though she were waiting for something.  She never spoke unless you asked her a question.  Nissa shivered though the shower that had blown up wasn’t cold.  She sat up and  scooted up closer to the trunk where she could watch the rain but stay dry . The smell of the rain on the dirt, honeysuckle from somewhere nearby, and the wet herbs in the garden filled her nostrils and she closed her eyes and breathed it in.  She felt much better out here, away from the house and her mother and whatever it was that seemed to be hanging over their heads like a dark and heavy cloud.

She heard a door shut and opened her eyes.  The old man was sitting on the porch with a bowl and hunk of bread.  Her mouth started to water and she realized that it had been hours since breakfast. “Are you hungry girl?” said the old man. “There is plenty if you will come sit.”

She hesitated.  She always felt safe and peaceful here and her instincts had never brought her harm.  She liked coming here and if he told her to stay away she would have nowhere else to go.  She weighed all that against her empty belly and stood up and walked to his porch.  “You are Nissa.” He said.  She jerked her head up in surprise.  He had not only known she was there but he knew her name as well!  “I am Simon.”  he said and he held out a bowl of stew to her.  She took the bowl, thanking him and he gestured to a seat and another piece of bread.  She sat down and they ate in silence.  She mopped up the rest of the liquid in her bowl with the last of her bread and sighed in contentment..  Simon handed her his bowl and asked her to set them in the washpan in the house.

She stepped in the room and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust and then they widened in curiosity?  Delight?  She didn’t know where to look first!  There were drawings and stuffed birds, carvings and odd stones of all shapes and colors.  She remembered she was holding the bowls and carefully put them in the tub of water.  She backed towards the door, wishing to explore but not wanting to be rude.  “Who was this Simon?” She wondered.

When she stepped outside, Simon had his eyes closed and his head leaned up against the wall,  The rain had stopped and the sun showed wrinkled skin, translucent and almost glowing from within in the sunlight.  His white hair was long but braided and he smelled like Rosemary.  She sat down in the sun near him and he began to tell her about the plants in his garden.  She had been watching him tend them, trimming some that got too adventuresome and pulling weeds from around others that seemed to prefer their space.  He often hummed and sometimes spoke quietly as he cared for them.

“There is a heartbeat to the earth and if you listen carefully, you will hear it beating in a garden.  The seasons have a rhythm all their own and the earth will speak to you.  Whatever you give, you get back so much more.”  He told of plants that were for healing, plants that made food taste better, and some that were for love and beauty.

“I like the ones you can eat, the best.” Nissa told him.  Simon smiled and said that the earth would feed more than just your belly.   “That may be so,” Nissa said, “but it’s hard to think of anything else if you are hungry.”  She looked away from him as she said it.

“Then you may come to this garden anytime you wish.” Simon said.

“Will you teach me how things grow?” she asked..

“Yes child, but it is work and you have to be willing.” He smiled seeing more than she knew.  Simon saw that she was strong and brave and would not be able to resist a challenge. He had dreamed of a child for the last few nights, and of something dark that she was running from.  He couldn’t see clearly yet, just what it was. He only knew that he must help her and that he had to go slow so that whatever it was would not awaken before he had taught her enough to help him defeat it.

“I can do anything you ask me to do.” she said proudly and maybe a bit defensively.  She had her chin stuck out as though she was daring him to disagree.  Simon just smiled and said “Then I shall see you tomorrow.”  Though she didn’t want to, she squared her shoulders and headed towards her home.  She didn’t want him to know how scared she was of going back to her mother and she was afraid that he would find out that something was wrong there and send her away.  She would show him that she could help.  She would make herself indispensable and then he would never send her away and she would have a place to go, to be, to grow.  She even whistled a bit on the way home.  The sound died on her lips as she reached the house.  She quietly slipped around back and through the window into her room so that she wouldn’t have to see the vacant stare in her mother’s eyes.  She quietly wrapped herself in her quilt and as the sky grew dark, she huddled in the corner of her bed and finally fell into a troubled sleep.

Anger

Sunday Scribbling #180, Carry On Tuesday #17, Three Word Wednesday, One Word: Corner

Piled them up and this is what I sifted out, with a little inspiration from posts by Quin and Paschal.

Disarmed by
the sudden guilt
anger dissolved
this time
just now, this minute
don’t speak
but later
no grace, no forgive, give
me mayhem mr. sandman
ain’t no sleeping tonight
voices engage
the shots fire over heads and
sometimes
hit the mark
hit the heart
play a  tattoo
beating on, beating up
beaten down
the poets rhymed it
the storytellers made it
their own
we all live it
danger, falling bricks, rocks
stones and sticks
and names can hurt, can paint
themselves on our skin
til only a faded shadow scar
barely seen
but heard round the corner
round the life

One Word Logical is Not Helpful

One Word: Logical pared down to fiction in 58

The logical thing would  be to run.  The logical thing was to not come here in the first place.  The logical thing was to not answer her phone in the middle of the meeting.  The logical thing was knowing there was no way Bryan would have asked her to meet him out here.  Logic wasn’t worth spit now.

One Word: Knot

not happy with this but I’m writing through a little dry patch.  Thank goodness the weekend is coming!

One Word: Knot

tied in knots
tangled and woven
never gonna smooth that out but
maybe go past it, further
change colors, scenery
faces, places
a blur and then slow down
for clarity
braid it, more strands
are stronger
will hold
stretched out but not
broken
shaken out
like a picnic tablecloth
checkered and wine-stained
fold it, wash it
you take one end
I, the other
meet in the middle
or somewhere inbetween
isn’t that the way,
the how, the why?
pieced together
a quilt can warm, pieces
telling the story, the picture
the unfinished threads
tucked under for now
tied in loose knots

Be Anxious For Nothing

One Word Catching up from yesterday: Anxiety

Yellow chairs and a ceiling fan.  A 10×14 slab covered with a metal roof, looking out over the back yard,  No anxiety here, just peace.  Perfect place for a morning cup of coffee, scented by the cinnamon flavor.  A slight breeze, neighbor’s dog barks, sounds of traffic off in the background.  The world is waking up and dawn is opening one eye, not quite awake. .  An intermission before the play begins again.

Wanted: One Word

One Word :Wanted

One Word is a simple webpage that displays a single word, different daily.  Click go and type in the box for a minute.  Done.

Wanted? Or needed?  Was there a difference?  Want comes from sight.  Want that pretty bright thing.

Need comes from heart and body,  both requiring sustenance.

She wanted to be more.  She needed to be less.  The two were always at war.

One Word Ring Around The Collar

Sunday Scribbling: key, One Word: collar

He must have drunk too much but damned if he could remember.  He could taste the last drop of beer he drained from the glass, feel the thud as he set the empty down on the bar, after that – nothing.  Til now.  Now there was a blue screamer of a headache and his neck is stiff like maybe he had slept wrong.

Sitting up seemed like the thing to do but as he pushed himself into a sitting position, he saw black spots and for a moment worried he would pass out.  A voice from somewhere behind him asked “Where is the key?”  He answers “Who are you?” and a sudden buzz of pain surrounded his neck and he clawed at some kind of metal band, collar, torture device!  The pain stopped after what seemed like hours and he fell back down, weeping.  The voice again asked “Where is the key?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about!” He cries, and the pain begins again.  He writhes and claws but he can’t loosen it and he thinks frantically, what can he tell them, what do they want, who the hell are they??

He waited in terror for the voice again, knowing he wouldn’t have an answer and anticipating what that would mean.  He carefully felt the metal band around his neck, trying to see how it was fastened, a mantra in his head alternating between “please don’t let it start again” and ” how do I get this thing off”.

It started with a call in the middle of the night when a friend from high school claimed he was in town and wanted to meet up.  He hadn’t heard from Jack in years but he was a good enough dude in school so when Jack suggested a sports bar not far from where he worked, he readily agreed to meet him.  Jack never showed.

After a few moments the lights went out and the dark made the fear and pain all the sharper.  He was sure the voice would be back and if they were trying to break him, they would get their wish.
The lights came back on and the voice returned. “Where is the key, Jack?” Oh man, he had been set up.  Who was Jack now and what kind of key did he have?  “I’m not Jack!” he said and the buzz began.  By the time it stopped he was nearly unconscious. “I’m not Jack.” he moaned.  “I have no idea who you are or what key you are talking about.  I wish I did, I would tell you, give it to you, whatever you want!”

“Where is the key?”

What’s The Key?

Three Word Wednesday, One Word and Sunday Scribbling all rolled up.

The Minus is loveless
He talks to the land
And the leaves fall
And the pond over-ices
She don’t know the system, Plus
She don’t understand
She’s got all the wrong fuses and splices
She’s not going to fix it up
Too easy

Joni Mitchell

Go to the back of the book014
Finger lickin down the index
the revelation is the key
Faces, faceless words
shot through wires
slip in the door, in the chair
sit down stand up
push the buttons, the red, the green
the big one twice
minus the answers plus troubles plenty
you want answers
she ain’t got them, they’re in the mist
the twist, under the bradford pear trees
watercolor washed sky behind
he got answers?
all those words and not one question
shooting at me, glare past me
I got your questions right here
open the box
anything there?
box to box ain’t heart to heart
if it’s just boxes
we’re going down in a blaze baby
disappearing
the apple has lost it’s luster
there’s a worm
two miles later
I’m laying it down
Go back to the book
the back of the book
finger lickin down the index
the revelation is the key

No idea where the image is from so if you happen by and it belongs to you, drop me a comment and I will remove it.

One Word, Two Speakers

One Word Jive: stereo

kryptomellow makes me yellow
windows open to the breeze that
brings the beat, the bass
the duster dancing
in the living room
bedroom, dining
dance to the working, window washing
pillow plumping
got my records
can’t be beat
stereo jive
I am alive
it shines it gleams
it’s friday lights the weekend nights
lock the door
the sounds and sights
the stereo, the barrio
the rodeo

don’t matter daddy O

dance the night, the dust, the day away

Let It Ring

Carry On Tuesday prompt from City of Glass by Paul Auster and One Word Constant

It was a wrong number that started it, the telephone ringing three times in the dead of night.  I was awake and while I tried, I could not go back to sleep.  Five minutes ago I was snoozing away, blissfully unaware of the noises coming from the neighbor’s garage.  Now those constant noises were all I could think of, hear.  They pound and bang right through the walls, the feathers, the blankets.  What is he DOING?  I got up and walk the familiar path to the kitchen in the dark.  Water from the faucet and peer out the window, trying to catch a glimpse of, nothing to see but the dirty yellow of his window with the naked bulb letting light but little else through the stained and bug splattered window.

Where is his wife and kids?  It had been a few days since I last saw them.  How can they sleep?  She was a quiet, big-eyed little thing and the two little boys with spindly legs and clothes that didn’t fit.  I felt sorry for them.  We spoke occasionally, chance meeting at the curb, dropping off trash.  We met at the mailbox the other day and she looked sadder than usual.  He had lost his job, she said.  Budget cuts come home to roost, no bacon coming home with this one for awhile.

He was a big guy with one eyebrow that always seemed about to land on his nose that looked like it might have been broken more than once.  He stepped out of the house and she clamped her mouth shut and walked away, but not before I saw the fear that made her eyes even bigger for just a moment, then she was gone, me standing there with my mouth open.

Now he was banging and hammering and it was three in the morning.  “Sorry you lost your job mister but some of us still have to work in the morning!”  I thought as I stepped out onto the porch, hugging my arms around myself because of the damp chill.  Should I go look? I was barefoot but I knew there was nothing but grass between me and the window.  Maybe I could just knock and explain that the sound was carrying.  He would apologize and stop for the night and we could all go back to sleep, thank you very much.

I quietly stepped off the porch, onto the wet grass and made my way to the garage.  I was watching the ground to try to avoid stepping on something sharp when a shadow seemed to pass before me.  I looked up and his face was in the window.  He was holding a large hammer and his stare, at first annoyed turned into a grin.  Not your friendly hello there, lets have coffee grin.  No this was your turn and run you idiot kind of smile but my feet were locked into place and my knees while shaking, were not planning on walking anytime soon.  Only my mind took in the details of the tableau behind him and screamed silent, as terror took my voice.  At least I knew where his family was.

One Word Fate (need I say more)

One Word prompt: fate

Fate, stood by the side of the roadstreetsign
do you stop?
drive on by?
if the sign points one way do you
go another, the other
change anything
if you could
would you?
the arrow, the curve
the no u turn
keep off the median
no worry, no hurry
no boogie man in the shadows
whistle, you know how
pucker up and blow
dark can’t fool you
the lights are all green
keep motoring on
we all end up back at the sign

In The Pit

One Word: Pit and Fiction in 58

You know that feeling.  The one you get in the pit of your stomach.  The one that tells you that whatever choice you just made will have consequences and regrets. The one that makes you afraid to look back, walk faster. What was I thinking?  Doors squeak, stairs creak, shadows fall.  Light a candle, the dark is coming.

A Cage Is Still A Cage

One Word : Cage

I was not free.  Didn’t matter that the cage was of my own making, the walls were solid, impenetrable, and too high to scale.  All that was left was to pretty it up, this prison.  So I painted, and hung curtains, and adjusted the light just right.  Throwing shadows to disguise the no escape, the no door out, no window to let in the honeysuckle wind.

One Word Achoo

One Word prompt: sneeze

The news said to stay at home unless you absolutely had to be out and about.  Well some folks might swallow that garbage but the rest of us have work to do.  I had taken the bus downtown and luckily it had been nearly empty so I was able to get a seat that was apart from anyone who might be carrying the germs.  I had always had a cast iron constitution so I saw no reason why I couldn’t go to the office and take care of business as usual.  I passed the custodian in the hall on my way in.  “Morning, John.” I said.  I turned the doorknob going into my freshly cleaned office and put the coffee on.  I fixed myself a cup and sat down at the computer to answer some email just as I heard John sneeze out in the hall.

One Word Bar Hopping

One Word: bar

He walked in the bar, familiar sounds of glasses ringing against glass, Laughter and talk all around.  Dark snuck in the door, but inside all was light.  He saw her in the back booth and strode to the back.  Stuck a couple bucks in the juke box and turned and smiled at her. She arched one eyebrow and took a sip of her drink.

~~~~

They made odd shadows across his face.  He slowly woke up, head pounding.  Couldn’t remember what he had done last night or where he had done it.  Smells and noises, not like home.  Oh man, where was he?  Those shadows again, dark, light, dark, light. Bars? He opened one eye.  What had he done?

~~~~

She had recently passed the bar.  She had the requisite taupe suit, white blouse and heels.  Gold earrings, everything good quality but understated.  She had scrimped and saved for the briefcase and now she had her first client.  He met her in the client/attorney area.  Wasn’t much to look at.  This was not how she thought she would start her career.