The Versesmith

 Weekly Haiku Poetry Prompt Challenge #334 Ronovan Writes words: grace and slip              I              If I slip from grace Will you be there to catch me Replete with mercy?              II        She moved in pure grace Her silk dress but a mere slip His eyes watched her pass              III He liked to slip in His superior knowledge Of Greek goddesses And favored Grace Thalia Goddess of Festivity    ©2020 Lisa Smith Nelson. All Rights Reserved

 Wordle #484 https://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/2020/11/28/wordle-484/  Prompt words in red.   pixabay.com/photos/abandon-alley-architecture-black-21907 Oh, the stories I could tell!   Black stories , depressing tales of narrow alleys and small bleak basements that suffer for want of sunlight.   Where walls are damp and thick, close, with voices unheard.  The narrow passageway is crisscrossed with yellow crime scene tape , the investigation continues, detectives hold out empty promises and hope, but there hasn’t been a promising lead since the morning after the blood splatter was found on the cold, slick stone wall.     The blood was just to throw them off, muddy the waters, so to speak, or bloody the waters in this case. "This case"… I love my double meaning; it tickles me to be so clever.   I could have been an author instead of what I am.  Yes, the stories I could tell.     ©2020 Lisa Smith Nelson. All Ri...

Writers' Pantry #48   I gaze out at the gentle snow fall grateful for the warmth behind me blazing fire, crackling logs    brought in before the storm to last the weekend let the snow come you are here with me    safe     ©2020 Lisa Smith Nelson. All Rights Reserved  

Weekly Writing Prompt #294 from   http://sundayswhirligig.blogspot.com/2020/11/whirligig-294.html   Prompt words in red.  The screeching call of the hawk woke me again. “Damn bird.”   Tossing the pillow off my head, like a hermit crab shedding its too small shell , I push myself out of bed to stand by the open window.   If this heat weren’t so oppressive I’d sleep with it shut to muffle his regular morning racket, but cool temperatures are far off dreams this summer.   Yes, there he is, tearing into one of Gordon’s pigeons.   Fifth one this month. I sigh… I’ll be hearing his grievances at breakfast. God, he squawks just like a bird. Turning towards the room again, I slip on my robe. I find my hands tremor slightly as I wrap and tie it around my waist.   I wonder, not for the first time, if I might do better to drink less. But, alcohol makes Gordon so much easier to bear.  Not for the first time, I ask myself if I...

     Weekly Scribblings # 47 Poets and Storytellers United   I At 15 years I had a friend Who loved to chew her gum     A rarity For me Or only sugar free   So Juicy Fruit became our “thing” I chewed it months on end     Too bad So sad Twelve cavities I had            II I loved her like a sister She later stabbed me in the back As even sisters will        ©2020 Lisa Smith Nelson. All Rights Reserve                                                                          

  Tanka Tuesday #204 The challenge is a syllabic poem inspired by this haiku by Sue Vincent. clouds cover the moon, beyond dawn’s pale horizon sun rises unseen . ©2020 Sue Vincent Mine is a shadorma.   The sunrise hides.   I understand and agree. Who would want to show her face in these days? I stay hidden too. ©2020 Lisa Smith Nelson. All Rights Reserved