Photo by Highlander(Remember all prompts are only suggestions
and you may use this photo to be inspired to write in any way you want)
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"Under This Lid"
I am a barn owl.
I live in a pine tree:
a sappy nest lined with
feathers and mice tails,
a soft home for a choir
of astute altos and baritones.
My mother tied this
red scarf around my neck,
and pushed me onto the tube-
now outside Russell Square
I hoot, looking for the nest
I fell out of.
~ Kristin Dombrowski
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17 comments:
...FEAR IS NOT OF THE LORD!!!! Then she left and I went about my day feeling confident in the words I said.
God asks me, "Why did you force My Words on her?". I tell Him, "Lord, fear is not of You." God says, "My child, that is not the point right now. Isaiah and Matthew both shared the message of My Son that you should follow:
"Look well at my handpicked servant; I love him so much, take such delight in him. I've placed my Spirit on him; he'll decree justice to the nations. But he won't yell, won't raise his voice;
there'll be no commotion in the streets. He won't walk over anyone's feelings, won't push you into a corner."
"Father, forgive me."
OK, I will give it the old Oxford try but I am telling you this horse is not ready. I have played for the Queen, I have played before the Sultan of Dubai and I can tell you I know what i am talking about. A Polo horse needs not only speed but agility as well and his ankle is not healed. There's the trumpet, I will put on my game face and ride out for review but trust me...this is not going to be a good day!
i know you've read my blog so you know i'm not a writer, but boy, he sure is one dapper looking gentleman!
'Good Morning John,'
'Morning,'
'My, you are looking rather scruffy this morning.'
'Hmmm? I hadn't noticed. I was too busy looking at the sun rise and listening to the birds singing. You should try it some time.'
'Yes, quite.'
'Can you smell the frost on the morning air? It smells like cinnamon and the promise of apple blossom to come.'
'You really are a very silly man.'
'I would be, if you let me come out of the mirror.'
'Hummph. On with the bowler.'
'Off to work again? You know, it really doesn't make you happy.'
'Enough talking to my reflection. Goodbye.'
'Goodbye.'
"Cream for your tea dear?"
"No, I'm quite late. No time, no time."
"Are you off then?"
"Yes. Do see to the dry cleaning today, won't you?"
"Of course, dear."
"Good day then love."
"Hmm... yes... hmmm... which tie do you like better, my pet? The black for death... or the red for blood?"
"Meow?"
"Hmm yes... yes my pet, the red blood. I quite agree... and now I am off for another day of murder. See you at six sharp, my love, and do try to stay out of the laundry."
Oh..Inkpot - so adorable. I really enjoyed that one :o)
Thanks Heather :)
"no i'm NOT just another brick in the wall"
"why do people keep telling me that"
"i dont even know who or what pink floyd is!"
"ah they can all bugger off!"
"Stupid, stupid hat," he mumbled.
"What dear?"
"Oh, nothing," he said, trying in vain to hide the rolling of his eyes.
She crossed the room, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You look very dashing, my dear," she said, adjusting his tie. "Elizabeth is one lucky girl."
"She better appreciate this," he muttered. "Ridiculous. I’ll look like some crazed English butler for all eternity." Victorian themed wedding, he thought. Bah! And I’ll have the pictures to prove it.
She looked up, "I'm sorry. Didn't catch that. You were saying?"
Sigh.
"Today is the start of new beginnings. I am so excited for you both. And how charming you will look together.”
“Yes, Mother. Thank you,” he said as he straightened up, stiff from the starch in his shirt. “Elizabeth will undoubtedly look lovely.” I wonder how many buttons will be on that corset, he mused. Did the Victorian’s ever give up after trying to break through all those layers?
“It looks like the carriage has arrived. Best not keep Elizabeth waiting,” Mother said as she toddled out the door.
With one last look in the mirror, David winced at his reflection.
“All I can say is, tonight better be worth it.”
"Under This Lid"
I am a barn owl.
I live in a pine tree:
a sappy nest lined with
feathers and mice tails,
a soft home for a choir
of astute altos and baritones.
My mother tied this
red scarf around my neck,
and pushed me onto the tube-
now outside Russell Square
I hoot, looking for the nest
I fell out of.
She: "Bloody hell, what did you do?"
He: "Whaddya mean?"
She: "You are a rock star, why'd you cut your 'air, and what is with the stupid 'at?" *Smiling* "You look a bloody oaf with them sticky out ears."
He: "Look you, the rock business isn't great at the mo, gotta try to get me a job."
She: "Who's going to give you a job? You think you can put on a 'at and everyone is going to think you a toff, you still sound like a yob...."
He: "Let me be."
She: "...and an 'ideous suit an 'orrible tie"
He: "I'm off" *slams the door*
“I know Jerry said he’d meet me here. Is he late…or…am I early? Damn! I’d hate to miss him again. He’s such a dear and so generous with his…financial assistance. And, I’m really in a tight spot this month…could really, really use some of the bloke’s wad. Oh, here he comes now! But, bloody hell! Who’s that with him? Where’d he pick that up? That’s it! No chance of talking finance with him now. Damnit to hell!”
Well said Sir Felstead.
Kirstin...I love your poem! Really quite clever. Nice job! ~Angie
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