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100 Word Challenge for Grown Ups - #38: …the sonnet….

This week's challenge is a poetry challenge in the form of a sonnet. We have the following rules
You must write 14 lines only; You can use 10 syllables per line (choice); You could use the following rythmn - a-b-a-b, c-d-c-d, e-f-e-f, g-g. (choice)
The Poet

She’s a poet you know, and she loves her rhyme,
She crafts and shapes, she teases and creates
Spells for readers, a world without time:
Space for her thoughts, what she loves, what she hates.

I was caught, trapped by her magic refrain
Never thinking of danger, nor pain ahead
I stumbled, I fell, I tried to explain
But my words lay lost, rotting, dying then dead.

We left the forest with its safe embrace,
Resolved to walk on and look way ahead,
All I took was the memory of her face,
She took her words, found a new path to tread.

There was love in those words, faith in the deeds,
And somewhere quietly my heart still bleeds.




  1. Ah, that's rather sad! But the sad ones are often the best!
    Thanks for dropping by to see mine!

  2. This heartbreak feels so present to me as I read your words. Wonderful sonnet.


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100 Word Challenge for Grown Ups – #66: The silence was deafening

It's good to be back. Here is the entry for Week 66 of the 100 Word Challenge using the prompt

…. the silence was deafening…..

The lost art of the kiss

OK here's the thing. At about two in the morning the thought struck me. No one kisses any more. Well, that's a bit harsh, everyone kisses. In fact everyone kisses everyone. That's part of the problem. Whether it's the Ladies Who Lunch and their coutured, coiffured air-kissing, bise-trois is de riguer these days, or slebs kissing each other for another pap-snap - Madonna and Britney anyone? - it seems that everyone is at it. A peck on the cheek, a smack on the lips, a tongue thrust here and there. I blame those continentals myself. Over there even the men kiss each other. Oh good grief.

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