This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’. Which can be found by following the link below..
We will let the fires of life burn out and in the dying embers we will sit and dream.
We will remember the fire that burned through our minds and bodies when we fell in love.
Then the fire of ambition when we first started college, the knowledge that added fuel to ignite our dreams.
The fires of protest, when we held firm beliefs and we were prepared to die for our feelings.
The fires that burned fiercely in our minds as we aged and ignited the fires of freedom in the minds of our children.
Proudly we have shared the fire and watched our children ignite the flames in the next generation.
Dreamily as the fire of our lives glows dimly, and the embers burn out, we ponder on our final destination, burial or cremation? Ashes to ashes, dust to dust?
Suddenly, shouts of joy as our Grandchildren run towards the smattering of smoke from the dwindling bonfire. ‘Grandpa and Grandma; wake up and come inside before you get cold when the fire burns out!’
This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’. Which can be found by following the link below..
This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’. Which can be found by following the link below..
Dawn breaks on a misty March day, frost fills the air and colours the pathway through the fields with a grey-white film. Early March shadows loom and recede along the hedgerows, cast by shrubs and trees. There’s not a sound to shatter the icy silence of the mist-shrouded morning. Then, a deep throated warble sounds from a nearby bush, a fusion of birdsong begins to break the silence, melodiously rising and falling to colour the bleakness of the scene. A Blackbird song signals a new day dawning. The rich quality of the tuneful sound loudly resounds and can be heard for miles around. A natural sound, designed as a territorial warning. He whistles and warbles sweet sound, smooth trilling notes with melodious perfection.
Slowly more birds add sound to the dawn chorus; a cacophony of melodic, richly outspoken, deep throated choristers soon penetrates through the March mist.
Then without warning the smooth flow of notes is broken. A cry of alarm sounds and many wings flap as birds take to the air to escape from the danger of feathers or fur. Their natural defense against man, predatory feline or hawk. When all danger is past the beautiful dawn chorus resumes in a mass of sound. Tuneful and melodic, with perfect clarity. The morning March mist lifts, as a watery sun breaks through the clouds, spreading warmth.
This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’. Which can be found by following the link below..
‘That’s the funniest thing I’ve ever seen, there was Ferdinand, our miserable neighbour, talking to a dandelion in his back garden.’
A crowd of assorted patrons of, ‘The Dog and Duck’ gathered around the pair, sensing a welcome bit of a laugh. Mike started the tale.
‘Our garden was a mess, there had been an incredible North wind overnight that savagely tore through the garden. I leaned on my spade and surveyed the damage, branches and leaves had been ripped from our trees and were lying everywhere.’
Ferdinand, our grumpy next door neighbour, was working in his garden, clearing up, when Steve winked at me and crept to the adjoining fence.
I guessed what was going to happen next, in view of his ventriloquist talents, little did I know how brilliantly it would work.
Steve threw a tiny voice and whispered ‘Please don’t tread on me!’ Shaken, as he thought he was totally alone, Ferdinand wheeled around in surprise.
‘I’m down here! Next to your incredibly large foot.’ Ferdinand scowled and looked down to find there was nothing there except dandelions, daisies and grass.
‘I can’t see you! If you are real and not a figment of my imagination, make yourself visible!’ he growled.
At this point we were both doubled up, shaking with laughter desperately trying not to laugh out loud.
Steve continued in the tiny voice ‘Look again! I am the good looking one with the purest yellow petals and a heart of gold.’
Ferdinand looked around wildly and made to get away from there fast.
‘No! Don’t go please, I would love to talk to you about many things.’ begged the dandelion.
‘What do you mean by petals and a yellow heart? Do you mean to say you are a common dandelion? If so, I can’t tell one of you from another, you all look the same to me!’ The tiny dandelion’s voice reflected a note of annoyance as it politely stated. ‘Less of the common, big-feet. We have a unique way of survival that excludes individuality and we are rooted here as one. Funny though, I can never differentiate the different clodhoppers that stomp around and squash our leaves and petals!
‘That’s amazing!’ shouted Ferdinand to the array of dandelions around his feet.
Then came a sound that was suspiciously like a giggle coming from the vicinity of the fence. Then a chuckle was clearly evident leading to an embarrassing roar of laughter, that led to enormous fits of laughter.
Ferdinand’s face became bright red as he realised the implication of these odious sounds and remembered his neighbour was a ventriloquist and very skilled at throwing his voice. We were both curled up laughing uncontrollably like lunatics.
This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’. Which can be found by following the link below..
Ideas are not easy to attain, they are an amalgam of information. A perfect mixture of acquired information coming together from many sources. So much inspiration is perspiration, while one is waiting for that eureka moment when some seemingly unrelated facts come together.
My day starts with a habitual routine of little rituals, I wake early and check out my online social media accounts. Then I avidly check the headlines and stories in the online newspapers. Following this I will read a couple of chapters of the current book I’m immersed in. At the moment I have three on the go. ‘The Road,’ written by Cormac McCarthy, a post-apocalyptic novel that vividly illustrates what life could be like for the survivors after a nuclear holocaust. The other two are, ‘Tamburlaine Must Die,’ a novel written by Louise Welsh. My other current book is a reread of Charles Dickens, ‘Oliver Twist,’ an old favourite I am sporadically reading. I have always thought that reading is as important to the formulation of ideas as breathing.
These days information arrives from many sources leading to an indiscriminate mixture. There is also a need for contemplation, not a quiet meditation on the meaning of things but a meeting of the outer and the inner eye, a quiet process of mixing, matching and remembering.
I enjoy the challenge of answering writing prompts by ‘M’, on WordPress. Each day I’m confronted with a random couple of words and I then allow my thought processes free rein to come up with ideas for a poem or a short piece of writing to answer the prompt. Opening up my mind to fill the indiscriminate mixtures between life and art, inspiring ideas. The interesting, usually two word prompt; allows my mind to take off in a flight of fancies. This is the great adventure that is writing, the challenge of going somewhere I may not already have been.
This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’. Which can be found by following the link below..
Louie was a man with a mission A man who was dedicated and firm A man who was incredibly competitive The opposition had a lot to learn. Louie put a lot of effort into his cantaloupe Nurtured his monster melon with care Used the finest plant food available To build a specimen succulent and rare.
~ Peter was the epitome of the competition, A grower who bent all the rules. He nurtured his vegetables with loving care Laughed at the efforts of his rival Louie. The growers vied for the ultimate prize The best in show at the village fair. Peter’s concern was the ultimate size
Louie showered his cantaloupe with care.
~ That was where the similarity ended, As the judges appraised them head to head. Sadly Peter became extremely offended Over a chance comment carelessly said. Cantaloupe Louie’s melon was unbeatable
This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’. Which can be found by following the link below..
The housemaster silently checked the dormitory to find 10 of the 20 beds had shaded lights where the occupants were reading under the bedclothes after lights out. He made no attempt to disturb them and silently left them alone. The next day in the Grammar session the teacher smiled and informed the class of the dangers of a lack of restful sleep. I yawned visibly as I drifted into an intense daydream.
The lecture was long and intricately constructed of facts that had been stitched together in a cycle of repetition to set the mind drifting. Looking out of the window at the pouring rain. I liked the look of a flaxen haired girl riding by on a cycle. I believe there is life on the other side. Would you believe if the world was two sided, dreams could be split in two? The culmination of this interpretation is that dreams are an ongoing fantastical spread of nocturnal desire, flooding diurnal dreams with ideas that could never be shattered. That girl with the flaxen hair has become a part of my personal individual stream. In a world that is well grounded she is now a part of my diurnal dream, simply waiting to become a part of my nocturnal dream. Perhaps to be visualised as a character in my stream of nocturnal reading with the aid of shady lamps.
This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’. Which can be found by following the link below..
The question is… “What do I want?” This was never going to be easy, There are so many turns in most of life, What I want must fill a need for me! Interpreting that need isn’t easy.
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Do I want an end to trouble and strife? This was never going to be easy. That question still makes me uneasy.
Peace? Wealth? A healthy calm goodlife? What I want must fill a need for me!
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As I grow older and think carefully, My mind drifts with worldly cares rife. This was never going to be easy. I narrow my want and thinking deeply, Am I getting selfish to include my wife?
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I want her to be completely happy
Never want for anything all her life. Love and Peace with good health
Free from pain and troublesome strife
Enjoying the best of the best with me
~
What I want must fulfil a need for me. This was never going to,be easy,
This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’. Which can be found by following the link below..
This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’. Which can be found by following the link below..
HOLLOW HILLS
johnandmargaret1607 