They called it a hike, but it was more like a marathon while carrying bowling balls. Twelve miles with full pack, rifle, and helmet. Did I mention that it was raining and the red clay swallowed not only boots but legs to the knee. Hike indeed.
Hike of rain and mud
Burdened and wet to the sin
Twelve miles and then warmth
Danny was a hard kid to get to know. It wasn’t that he wasn’t a friendly as any other eight year old. It was more that he was wary around others and what they might say.
You see, Danny had metrophobia and the mere hint of a rhyme would create such a high level of anxiety for him that he would feel his belly twist into knots, and then he would crouch in a corner.
While most kids enjoyed Green Eggs and Ham, Danny had to content himself with giant peaches. One day his friend Karen made a Freudian slip in which she inadvertently rhymed, but then made matters worse by saying, “I’m a poet and din’t even know it.” Poor Danny’s whole body shook and he slipped into shock.
Tonight would be different, however. Danny was going to Prosaic ’20, for a reading of all things ‘prosey.’ The theatre was going to be a poetry free zone, and he was going to read his own composition – “The Wonderful Thing About Orange.”
High Metrophobia- Irrational fear of poetry Freudian Slip Crouch Eggs Peach Tonight Shock Slip Know Twist Body
It was a place steeped in Elf-lore. The Blue House was a place of refuge, and within its walls no harm would befall those seeking its sanctuary.
Hellon had always doubted the existence of the house. After all it was preposterous that a glowing blue building would materialise at the place in which one found themselves in greatest need. No need to seek it, it would find you. No, Hellon thought. Even magic doesn’t work that way.
That was before the Ogre attack which had killed his two best friends, and left Hellon himself fleeing blindly into the dense forest. His shattered collar bone made any additional resistance on his part nearly impossible, and jolting pain shot threw his shoulder with every step he took.
To make matters worse, the Ogre could be heard roaring behind him. It was not endevouring to run him down, but merely kept pace with Hellon to ensure that he ran himself to exhaustion.
Suddenly there was a blue glow in the woods, and the trees gave way to an intricately designed pathway which led to a sturdy house emblazoned with a blue tree at its gable end.
Preposterous or not, Hellon jogged onwards to the threshold.
Childhood memories of a Kentucky past
Romantic bridges along my traveled way
Oil paintings on the living room wall
The work of relatives now passed-away
Covered reminders of a heritage
The then and now to bridge
I minored in archaeology. It was an interesting complement to a ecclesiastical history degree. Later when I moved to England, I was able to use the qualification to work on a dig at a large Anglo-Saxon burial ground, which was going to be built over as part of a modern development.
One of the graves that I excavated was that of a young teenage boy. He had been buried as a warrior. The shield boss was in place near his left elbow, and an iron spearhead has to the right of his head. An iron knife was in place on his hip as well.
This “warrior” however was in many ways still a child however. He was small in stature at the time of his death, but what really stood out and affected me was the the fact that on his hip there was also evidence that a bag or pouch had once hung from his belt. Its contents were still in place: smooth perfectly spherical stones – his marbles.
Day’s end – stress to relieve
In a bath with bubbles reclining
Warm water surrounds
All is bliss as cares melt away
A poem can be enduring
Eternal truths held within
Though words in number brief
Its meaning without end
Weekend Writing Prompt #172 – Endless in 18 words