boy with a hat

I mean to say that I say what I don't mean.

If You Bathe At Least Once A Week, You Must Read This

Woman in the Tub by Lee Price

Woman, when you bathe you think you are alone,

But it is not so.

In a shadowy corner,

On a silky web,

A tiny spider gapes,

His eight eyes fixed with fascination

On your soapy nudity.


Read the rest of this entry »

If You Don’t Mind, I Would Like To Be Your…

Woman On A Chair

To be alive and breathe and move

And eat and drink and speak

And read and write

Is mighty fine indeed,

But when I think of you,

I would prefer to be inanimate.
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50-Word Stories #138

(c) Jean Bradbury

The little boy sneaked into the orchard and scrambled up the tall cherry tree.

The branches poked him in the ribs.

The wind buffeted him.

Up he climbed, undaunted, toward the ripest cherries.


The boy lay sprawled on the grass, gazing at the victorious cherries, so high, so distant…


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To A Reader Of My Blog With Whom I Am Secretly In Love

Woman with Umbrella Painting

In my wildest fantasy you are walking on the street

On a rainy day,

Wearing not a miniskirt

But tight black jeans,

Carrying a fancy umbrella in one hand

And your smartphone in the other,

Your browser open to my blog,

Which you read with keen attention,

So much so that you’re utterly oblivious

To the tripping danger you are in:

Alas, your shoelaces are undone!

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Woman, may I compare you to a rose?

SayuriEyes on DeviantArt

Woman, may I compare you to a rose?

The rose is short.

You are tall.

The rose is narrow.

You are shapely.

The rose stands still.

You move, you are liquid grace.

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Lady Death, Good Night

Midnight December- An acrylic painting by Manisha Bhatia

If on a moony night

Around the witching hour,

While the weeping willow stoops before my window,

And the mournful wind wails on the rooftop,

Lady Death creeps out of the shadows

And shows up in my room,

And glides to my bed,

And on her way doffs her hat and slips out of her dress,

And bites her lip and whispers,

‘Now, while you are young,

Take off your overcoat of clay:

Let me show you immortality,’

How can I refuse her?

The bliss she promises,

No mortal woman can equal:




The sound of things unheard,

The taste of things untried,

The filling of the gaps,

Left by experience,

The answers to all riddles.

And what if she is cold?

And what if she is prickly?

And what if her touch decays?

Loving her will hurt,

But is not a night of pain

Worth an eternity of leisure?

Image © Manisha Bhatia

Weekly Writing Challenge: Fifty

Can you tell a story in just fifty words?

PS: Alas, if I knew my mug would become so large I would have not reblogged this!


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