Daily Writing Challenge

M-9

I have three poems to write for the Poetry prompt challenge.

The first one is
Form: Villanelle

A villanelle is a structured 19-line poem consisting of five tercets (three-line stanzas) followed by a quatrain (four-line stanza).

It features a strict rhyme scheme of ABA, with two repeating refrains
(lines 1 and 3 of the first stanza) alternating as the final lines of subsequent tercets, forming a concluding couplet.
A a poem to write
B with special rhyme
A written bite by bite.

A and now tonight
B with a twist of lime
A a poem to write

A is this right
B it is poem time
A written bite by bite.

A this is a fight
B is should be a mime
A a poem to write

A hope of success is slight
B now is the time
A written bite by bite.

A did I do it right
B does it even rhyme
A a poem to write
A written bite by bite.


the prompt for week 29 is a picture of a flowering branch.

springing forward petals adorn
flowery petals sharing scents
colorful chaos
trees abloom
future fruits
beauty held
springing forward flowers blush
flowery petals promising summer
soft petals
delicate scent
hanging high
breeze kissed
promised life

next poem
Prompt/Week # 30

Write a poem from the perspective of an abandoned building.

I stand
I watch
I wait
people used to live within
now they walk quickly past
they fear me
I held life
I held love
I held hopes
people used to care
now all I do is dream
they do not even see me


Now for a little story time
Here's the prompt from the daily flash fiction challenge for today
Prompt for 3/9

Write a story that includes the line: "What's your excuse this time?"


He just had to ask. I did not want to answer him. "What's your excuse this time?"

I shuffled my feet for a moment. There was no right answer. "It just happened?"

"Are you asking me or telling me?"

"Both?"

He sighed and put his hands on his hips. "How many this time?"

"They really needed me, they didn't have much time."

"How many?"

"Five."

"Five kittens? We are not keeping one this time. Fostering means taking care of them until someone else adopts them. Not we just keep a couple. We already have four cats."

"Legally we could have five," I pointed out.

"Do you want to have to explain why you can not foster them?"

"No."

"How many are we keeping?"

"None..." I answered sheepishly.

"Fine. Where are they?"

"In the bathroom."



Now an entry for twisted tales.

Thomas’s spurs rattled as he walked towards the porch. He angled his hat to block the glare of the sun. The wind stirred up the dust on the ground. It had been dry, and the soil was parched. It was time to face the consequences of his actions. By the height of the sun it was nearly five PM. He lowered the scarf covering his mouth. There was no point in trying to hide his identity. The sheriff wasn’t going to like this.

He ground his boots into the dust and stepped onto the porch. The sheriff opened the screen door with a creak. “Thomas.”

Thomas flinched. It was as though he already knew. Had he been watching? Thomas hated it when the sheriff used his given name. He swallowed hard and confessed, “I shot Bucky in the butt, and he whimpered.”

The sheriff shook his head. “You know what this means, right?” The sheriff held out his hand.

Thomas groaned. He withdrew his guns from their holsters and passed them to the sheriff. "Will I get them back?"

"What do you think? Just be glad Bucky survived."

"I was not trying to hurt him..."

"You shot him. How did you expect that not to hurt him?"

"I thought I would miss..." Thomas frowned.

"Why shoot if you are going to miss?"

Thomas had no answer. He said nothing and pursed his lips. It was time to take his punishment. He hung his head. "I suppose you are going to lock me up now?" He swallowed hard as the sheriff mulled over the charges pending. This could be very bad or it might be okay.

"Just do not shoot the dog again!" The sheriff looked him over. “Head in and wash up. It is time for dinner."

“Yes, sir, Dad.” Thomas scurried in the house, thankful not to be grounded.

Seven hundred fifty words. I think i need one thousand fifty words today. So three hundred more words needed. My wife is asleep next to me. She has one of her true crime shows on the tv. I think it is about Kemper. I am not having any trouble ignoring it. I do not want to watch it. That could be a problem when I get done writing because I do not want to wake her she has had a rough day. Papa is back in the hospital. The urinary tract infection is flaring up again. and he fell out of bed this morning. My mother in law says he was not hurt this time but they are keeping him at least over night. She is getting his apartment deep cleaned tomorrow because according to the emergency room nurse he was living in squalor. How does she get to make that statement. She didn't see the apartment and it may not be in perfect shape but I cleaned it not that long ago. Supposedly it was because of roaches bedbugs and he had dried poo on him. I can't speak to the poo situation, but he does not have bedbugs. The traps under the legs of his bed show no signs. He used to spray the whole apartment to keep them from attacking in the first place. The paramedic must have somehow seen the bedbug spray and assumed. Roaches yes, but not because it is not clean. The landlord will not shell out to take care of the roach problem. So yeah. She's possibly in trouble for neglect. I can speak to that being likely. Anyway it sounds like they want to put him in a home. But she is trying to set up palative care so he can stay in the apartment. That is what he wants. On the one hand yeah his wishes should be respected. on the other hand she is not taking proper care of him. What the f should I do? Call adult protective services? I am well over my word count goal so byee for tonight.