On to actually-today's prompt! I really like this one, and riding high off the concert I went to last night I am freshly inspired by song lyrics. There's one good thing that came of my friends all ditching me a few years ago. It gave me some new trauma to delve into with my art.…
We stir up sand running at speed to climb clouds towards a milky galaxy we’ve labeled the ethereal Heaven. Yet what do we use to achieve our goal, but plastic supplies stored in polyester bags. Eternally, we remain ill-equipped to face the ex-wife when we keep fingers laced with her abuser. Man-made madness so consumes…
A marked path, pristine, sterile dirt finally buries all trash, litter, mutated monkey bones. Synthetic beauty of art and architecture: an acceptable loss to bandage over ever-bleeding deep human scars of utility, efficacy, and convenience that forever plagued the autotrophs. The last artist loses himself in fog, enfolding his essence between ancestral trees. He finds…
This basalt-paved walkway juts out into deep water, concluding suddenly at an arbitrary edge…but the path continues subaquatic. No surveyor has ever discovered they walk on rooftops of tower columns: skyscraper rivals with how deep they go. Aboveground cousins own whispers of giants and their causeways, yet divers do not explore what lies beneath. Not…
The ashen dragon drifts above the golden city and I follow with my composite wings of steel and brass, built without gloves—unoffered— to shield my wrists from the blood my mechanisms conjured in bites and rips. This blood I now refuse to quell rains upon the regime that withheld resources, hypnotized the masses to accept…
The painted paradise of viridian water f a l l sis a flat intimation of rushing din to drown out the Giver’s frantic thoughts. I care too much, too often, in place of the others. I’ve lost my sense of self and hate the world for it. Someone give me permission to let go, let…
Do you hear it? The beat of the bass that drives the bass upstream, fearing the bows of the mountain tribe, those who bow to the sky. The low bass: their running steps, closing in to close the gap, unassailed by periwinkle waters. The lead man holds no arrowhead of lead, but of obsidian, a…
Blowhole of a blue whale, flaccid after death, floats highest of the corpse, becoming island. Flora emerges from seeds dropped off albatross wings. Humans have no more use for them. "Uninhabited Tropical Island" photograph by Matthew Neighbour Written for a brevity contest - exactly 30 words.
Eruption by cicada’s ear. Exoskeleton melting with no knowledge of heat, of flame, of burning…of gunpowder. Gold and violet lights fill ocelli, brighting out dim stars above and tree podomeres below. Does he believe the earth dies? A disorienting supernova. He falls as body dissolves. Brain’s final thought: Doomsday! Photo by Vlad Cheu021ban on Pexels.com…
She has been flailing in the ocean her entire life, yet some tsunamis she sails to fool the world that she is strong. She wishes she were upon stars that fall: meteorites splashing up salt in the stillness of silver night. If she could have even the destructive power of those asteroids that smash valleys…
National Poetry Writing Month
Keeping the world immersed in stanza.
About fantastical places and other stuff
"The silence of the night awakens my soul"
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Saralyn Caine Poetry 