Falling into Fall’s hands
Into Autumn’s mitts
Time for sweaters
And changing leaves
As Summer calls it quits
Though a colourful time of year
It still brings many low
As temperature drops – and nights close in
And chill winds begin to blow
Padre
Tuesday Writing Prompt: into fall’s hands
Jeremy had spent the entirety of is nineteen years in the same town. Buried deep in the farm-belt Hog’s Knuckle was the backwater of all backwaters. When he was 15 he had made that one trip to the state fair with the 4H Club, but beyond that he had never journeyed more than twenty miles from “Knuckle.”
The economic situation in the town was dire, and with the closure of the cannery there seemed to be no hope for any real semblance of life left. With the longing for a new start in his soul, Jeremy left home a little after nine, being sure to go out the kitchen door as if he were on his way to the barn. Circling back he picked up the old knapsack he had left by the silo, and headed to the bend on the Billings Line. By ten he would be on a freight train on his way to new horizons.
Padre
Tuesday Writing Prompt Challenge:
freight train, longing, and nine
Pixabay
You tried to ruin me,
But I knew it could not be done.
I played along with your belief
That you had against me won.
What you could not have known
In your malicious deeds and thought
Was that I had already – the company
With my savings bought.
PS: Please empty your desk by the end of business Friday.
Padre
Tuesday Writing Prompt Challenge: Finish the phrase “You tried to ruin me, but I…”
Pixabay
When I was at school, I was quite proud of my cursive hand with its requite swirls and flourishes. Many hours were spent trying to replicate the elaborate script that, in white on green, spanned the front of the classroom wall just below the ceiling.
But times, and life moved on and I found myself a teacher in the UK, where my adorned writing caused confusion among my students. “Sir, why does your ‘n’ look like a ‘m’ and your ‘m’ have three bumps and not two? Yes, I had inadvertently wandered into the realm of “joined writing,” in which cursive was seen as archaic and unnecessary.
But tides and time wait for no man, and even “joined writing” became something to forget. If a student could master a keyboard, why spend time with the mastery of a pen? To touch type was the new scribal talent.
I have often heard students moan “my arm is breaking,” if they needed to hand-write more than a few lines of text. Primary teachers speak of students who hold pencils gripped in closed fists, rather than between index and thumb.
How far have we journeyed? Where will it lead? Will writing in the future even be a thing we need?
Padre
Tuesday Writing Prompt Challenge:
Today’s prompt: Write a piece of prose or poetry around the words cursive, touch, and forget
Pixabay
My mind wanders – aimless, un-directed
Shifting from thought to thought
Visiting plans future, and past things I’ve neglected
There is no stillness in a mind thus fraught
How unlike the quiet of the room in which I lay
As the stillness of the night slowly slips away
Padre
Writing Prompt Challenge-Write a poem or piece of prose around the words “in the stillness”
Photo by Adi Goldstein on Unsplash
Dappled light upon the pillow falls
Summer leaves for position jockey
Making shadows dance in the breeze
As moonbeams-mysterious seek
Their grounding beneath the trees
On such a night as this
Let us dream of things as sweet
Sheltered in mystic moonlight
Until in the morn again we meet
Padre
Tuesday Writing Prompt Challenge:
Today’s prompt: Write something around the words “mystic moonlight”
Pixabay
Lost within the world’s malaise
A mere cog within the system
Corporate giants above us blaze
Their advertisements to ensnare us
“I am a person – individual,” we declare
As we don our jeans identical
Our genes we claim make us – us
Though we, like a watch digital –
Are faceless
Padre
Tuesday Writing Prompt Challenge: faceless
“That’s one right moving song, Mr Foster,” the composer’s housekeeper said.
“I don’t rightly know,” Foster retorted, “I don’t need any folks saying I only write dark tunes. I’d rather have folks singing O Susanna or Camp Town Races, especially with this dang war going on.”
“Beautiful Dreamer dark, Mr. Foster?”
“Why just look at the lyrics,” he challenged. “‘Sounds of the rude world
Heard in the day, Led by the moonlight, Have all passed away . . . . Gone are the cares of
Life’s busy throng, Beautiful dreamer, Awake unto me, Beautiful dreamer, Awake unto me.’, Don’tcha see, she is goin’ to be waking to the Lord, she’s finished here below.”
“I didn’t realise,” the housekeeper muttered, “well maybe you should keep to brighter songs like Jeanie.”
Padre
Tuesday Writing Prompt: Use “beautiful dreamer” in a piece of poetry or prose
Pixabay
Injustice seems it’s everywhere
The world plagued with disease
Financial woes and online scams
And there are far more than just these
These pressures may press you down
Place weight upon you shoulders
But that makes it simpler to offer pleas
For they are best made on our knees
Padre
Writing Prompt Challenge: on our knees
Pixabay
Your head resting upon my shoulder
A fleeting smile and suggestive wink
Caresses upon a summer’s eve
Your clutter above the bathroom sink
These things I long for –
To name but very few –
What I am trying to say –
Is in the end that I miss you.
Padre
Tuesday Writing Prompt Challenge: End a piece of prose or poetry with the phrase “I miss you”
