I thought I'd share a few of mine here. No literary masterpieces, but I had a lot of fun.
Prompt: If we were all forced to wear a warning label, what would yours say?
Go away, I say shyly, while hiding my sign
I pull my coat over to hide the tin shine
Though labels we all have, I’m nervous for mine.
It’s different than others, I woefully resign.
I read all their labels, each one seems to fit.
“Liar” and “Fraud” and “I want to quit”
And “Smotherer” and “Hugger” and “Artistic Guru.”
And “Happy” and “Lucky” and a “Gifted” one too.
But I can’t show them mine. Mine I can’t let them see.
For it’s different… but not. It’s about who is “me.”
Who I am, what I do, what is brimming inside.
And I wonder to myself why I feel I should hide.
It’s not “Angry” or “Violent” or “Mysterious”, no.
It’s not “Neurotic” or “Crazy”. But it’s all part of it, you know.
I am nothing and everything, and all in between
My sign is all of them. Here’s what I mean.
It could say all the above and then a bit more,
It could say “Poet” or “Learning” or even “Care-worn”.
Or “Giving” and “Loving” and “Dark and Demure”
Even “Courage “and “Daring” and “Sharing” for sure.
It’s something and everything and all I can be
So I hold my sign up proudly for all to see me.
It means “Risk-taker” “Creator” and even “Fighter”.
My sign is one single word. It says “Writer.”
Prompt: Empty rooms in the attic for rent
The wood creaked beneath her feet as she gingerly stepped into the attic. The smell of mold and forgotten times spoke loudly, as if she was an old friend returning.
A wooden hobby horse sat in the corner, heavy and alone. Light through the window reached down, touching its nose.
A finger run across it’s back made a trail through the dust.
Empty and cold, the room was full of lives past and lives future.
“I’ll take it,” she said.
And the horse began to rock.
Prompt: “And then suddenly she turned off her emotions”
Nothing. I have nothing to say. Nothing to feel. They tell me they remember the day I stopped talking. But I only remember the day I stopped feeling.
Before the incident, as Mother calls it, my mouth ran like a waterfall in the spring. Then, it happened. The world crashed. I crashed, exploding and imploding, screaming and pulling and pushing and caving in on myself. Anything to get away.
Then, suddenly I had to do it. I needed escape the smell and the feel and the sound. That crashing, terrible sound. I was alone. They were gone. And my emotions left with them.
Prompt: So that’s what you are, he whispered in awe
“She’s bossy and needy,” the young husband said,
“I can’t get her whines out of my head.”
The wise man nodded as the young man spoke,
“Do you love her,” the man asked the bloke
“Of course I do,” the other man glared
“if I didn’t I wouldn’t look past all I’ve shared.”
“Part of that’s true. But you’re missing a piece.
But what you’re not doing is seeing her whole,”
Her hair is brown and her eyes are brown
I know my wife her smile her frown.”
You see with your eyes, and these might be true
But you don’t see with your heart, it might surprise you.
The young husband returned to his wife late that night
With a decision to change the source of his sight
He handed her a baby and blew hair from her face
And said, “I’m tired. I’ll heat up your plate.”
“Wait” he said as he grabbed her hand
And looked at her eyes, discovering new land.
In them he saw all her joy and her pain
He saw her laughter and love unfeigned
Her dedication and worth, her value and meekness
He see who she was, and his knees felt their weakness
“so that’s who you are,” he whispered in awe
At the woman he loved, magnificent and all
Prompt: Unrequited love
Barb looked at Scott longingly. Like a hungry panda looks at an ice cream cone in the Asian summer heat. He was the captain of the chess/soccer/Nintendo team and she was a lonely super model. He could never want her. Still, still, still, still, still. She wanted him . A lot. Like a lot a lot. So one day Barb wrote Scott a letter and it said,
Dear Scott. I love you. I don’t want to bush around the beat (for you see, Barb had colloquial dyslexia). Loving you is breaking me to the core. And I want you to kow if you could love me back. Could you would you love me? Would be as hard a needle going through a camel’s back?”
Dear Scott. I love you. I don’t want to bush around the beat (for you see, Barb had colloquial dyslexia). Loving you is breaking me to the core. And I want you to kow if you could love me back. Could you would you love me? Would be as hard a needle going through a camel’s back?”
She handed the letter to Scott one day after his foozeball practice, He wiped his hands on his black unitard and read it slowly. Because she had written in Hungarian and he had to get a translator to help. Finally he looked up with tears running down his cheek. Or, actually just a single tear (because that’s what Ann loves to hear) and said, “Barb, I cannot love you. My love belongs to one another.”
Barb wept and said, “Who” who who who who who who who who who who who who (Because she has as stutter) could you love more than I?
Prompt: A vessel that takes you somewhere else
This will be a great idea, said Frank.
Heather looked at him with rolling eyes, or, more aptly put she looked at him after her she rolled her eyes because you can’t really look at someone while you’re rolling your eyes. But I digress.
“Being on this vessel is how we can get somewhere that isn’t here. And don’t we want to go there.” Mused Frank.
“But your ideas are never good, Frank.” Sighed Heather
“They are. Tell me when they aren’t.”
“Like the time you thought we should roller skate on the beach. Like, on the actual beach. Or that time you wanted to sing karaoke.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“There is when it’s at Grandma Bee’s funeral.”
“I’ll give you that you that one. But what about the time I picked the winning lottery numbers?”
Heather rubbed her 5 billion-dollar wedding ring. “That was a good idea.”
They smiled at each other as she followed him onto the Titanic….
Prompt: Eye contact two people seeing one another for the first time
In the Land of Triple Sue wanted a dipple
She ate the dipple and wanted more
Sue went to the store to buy a dipple more
And there she was something that made her heart sore
A pair of eyes green and sage
Or maybe hazel, she couldn’t gauge
They were wide and enticing
Like cucumbers a slicing
And she stared more and more
And more and more and more
Until three past awkward
Then she spoke Knockward
Which was the language of the land.
“Whom might might might you be?
Was the question in row of three,
But the eyes kept looking doe-aly.”
Sue blinked three blinks and asked again
“Will you answer me please, tell me when?”
Your eyes are so deep and familiar too
I feel like I know you. I do, I do.”
The eyes finally blinked then turned sky blue.
And the voice said, “You do, Sue” It said, “Because I am you.”
Prompt: Nature extremists take over the government
It was chilly in the war room that day. The general sat at the head of the table, looking undaunted, though there was fear in his eyes.
“Today is a cold day,” he said with a shiver. He eyed to the private to adjust the thermostat.
“it’s a sad day,” he said with a cough. “Extremists have taken over the government and made some demands.”
“But,” said Hayley from the corner of the long table.
“No buts” he barked. “We don’t have time for a discussion. We must give in to their demands, or at least act like we are, if we are to win this war.”
“But Sir,” Haley pleaded again.
He stood to yell, but kept in his seat, shaking. It was so cold.
Then Haley finally yelled. “But Sir, the extremists are Nature extremists sir. Not nudists extremists.
The general gave an awkward cough before he pulled his folder in front of him and dismissed the others from the room first.
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