"There's not much doubt in any of our minds that no complete idea springs fully formed from our brow,
needing only a handshake and a signature on the contract to send it off into the world to make twenty-five billion dollars.
The germ of the idea grows slowly..." - Walt Kelly

Wednesday, April 13, 2011


This one came to me on the bus ride home. Yes, I'm still behind, but I'll get to those other two in due time. Promise.
Prompt #13: Adjective-less

The cry that rang out,
bird figured,
was the volume
to wake a bear from hibernation,
of course it roused him
from his slumber.
Bird ran and pressed his ear
to the door,
skin melded with wood,
to hear the ruckus.
Two voices:
neither in a tone
he would welcome.
"The way you treat us!"
she cried.
"Cut the accusations,"
he replied. "Consider,
my work, my stress.
Consider the sources."
She was silent.
Bird opened the door
so he could see without being seen,
saw Mother, tears and sighs,
what was she remembering?
"We could handle it before,"
she recalled. "What changed?"
They stared at each other,
and bird knew a feeling
hadn't felt before,
and it made him shiver
and weep.
Mother and Father
knew just as he did,
and their gazes twitched,
eyes at the scope,
to the door
bird hid behind.
"Time to fly."

Playing on my iTunes at this very moment:
Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Way Out

No comments:

Post a Comment