The Versesmith

Tanka Tuesday Weekly Poetry Challenge No. 313 "This week, share the view outside your window by writing a poem in syllabic form.  If you write a freestyle form, please add a syllabic form to your post.  Have fun!" I view my garden,  waking from too long winter, from behind the glass. Years of masks, vaccinations, with my guard down, COVID strikes. ©2023 Lisa Smith Nelson. All Rights Reserved #tankatuesdayno313 #tankatuesdayweeklypoetrychallenge #tankapoetry #tankapoem #COVIDpoetry #syllabicpoetry #syllabicpoem #COVIDpoem #COVIDtanka 

 Friday Fictioneers  "The Challenge: Write a complete story in one hundred words or less." photo prompt ©Miles Rost 100 words Every time I see a laundromat I am transported back in time to 1981. I was pregnant, had just moved into a rented house with no laundry facilities, necessitating a trip to the local laundromat. One day, as I sat crocheting the coming-home blanket for my baby, a woman came, sat next to me, and opened a can of sardines.  There are some odors a pregnant woman cannot handle; for me it was that smell of oily fish.  She started picking them out with her fingers, tilting back her head, and slurping them into her waiting mouth. Oh, the nausea! ©2023 Lisa Smith Nelson. All Rights #storyprompt #fridayfictioneers #100words #100wordstory 

 Mindlovemisery's Menagerie Wordle #299  Prompt words in red.       I feel the pressure of his body against my back.  It’s actually rather nice, the warmth pressing right where my back likes the support.  He seems to believe the queen mattress is one big dog bed, and by morning he’ll be in the center, with me on the edge, bound for the floor!      His previous family adopt ed him from the shelter as a tiny pup, only to abandon him back a few short months later when his sibling’s DNA showed something they didn’t appreciate .   They didn’t even give him a chance to finish his puppy classes.  I’m his family now.  He’s my family .  You don’t give up on family .      He’s the brave (or timid, depending on his mood) defender of our home.  A staunch protector of the garden from cats hiding in the rosemary , the fragrant needles not fooling him. He smells cat!  Not that he’d...

This poem is in response to a five year old NaPoWriMo (National Poetry Month) prompt!   It was originally for the seventh day, and as seven is said to be a lucky number, was to " write a poem about luck and fortuitousness" using the following instructions.  Create the following lists: 1. List 1 – 3 random objects. (Smaller tends to be better.) 2. List 1 – 3 random but specific locations. (Think in the cookie jar, or under my seat…) 3. List 1 – 2 objects you’ve lost and a few notes on their back-story. 4. List 1- 2 objects you’ve found and few notes on their back-story. Now, choose an object from List 1, a location from List 2, and connect them in a poem with ideas from Lists 3 & 4 My lists: 1. Silver chain, red pen, library book 2. In the trash by my computer, in the kitchen window, on the top shelf 3. Red stone from mother in law ring, passport 4. Crystal (at work), cat (Baby Cat) Okay, I admit, I didn't tie in any idea from list 4.  If Meatloaf can ...

  Writers' Pantry #86  https://rainbow-int-franchise.co.uk/ Exiting the grocery, I heard the woman say,   to a phone I didn’t see, or to herself, more likely,     “ You have condensation and you pray to Satan .”   Something poetic in those words, caught me by the ear and held on tight.   Tell me more! ©2021 Lisa Smith Nelson. All Rights Reserved

 Weekly Scribblings #63    Under the cedar, where the quince is in bloom, lies the headless body of the raptor.  The owl feasted soundlessly in the limbs last night.  ©2021 Lisa Smith Nelson. All Rights Reserved A true story, other than the time of year I found the headless bird.  There was no blood.  It had been a huge raptor, with beautiful talons, but still no match for the owl.  Apparently, owls know heads are where the most nutritious brains are.