in 1000 Stories

cinderella cinderella – 23/1000

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“I ran to the market -“

“No, you sauntered.”

“They didn’t have what you needed.”

“You didn’t look hard enough.”

“Well, I had to be back by 10!”

“You should have gone to other markets.”

“But I didn’t have time!”

“Then you make time, child. Did you do your chores?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“This floor is still dirty and the dishes are sitting in the rack.”

“I’ll take care of everything ma’am, I promise, please just give me a chance.”

“All you’ve gotten from me are chances you haven’t deserved, no more!”

Then I walked away knowing it would never get … Read the rest

in Poems

lights out

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Sometimes we begin things that we don’t know we’ll finish. We’ll start a novel on a Wednesday and by Friday we’ll have thrown it out and started playing violin. We’ll put spoonfuls of sugar in our coffee every morning until the scale tips too far and then we switch to tea with lemon, and hate it. But we just have one life, just this one, so if we want to we should write poems and learn to read music. We should have the good coffee and take a long walk. We should lay down and look at the sky and … Read the rest

in 1000 Stories

the diamond – 22/1000

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“Did you bring it?”

“Wasn’t that the point of coming here?”

“Let’s see it.”

“This place is busy, you want me to take it out now?”

“Yes, yes!”

The man opened the kerchief in the palm of his hand and revealed the diamond, nearly the size of a golf ball, rare, clean, and uncut.

“Where’d you find it?”

“I’ll never tell.”

“Good evening, gentlemen, can I get either of you something to drink?”

“Looks like you are pretty busy in here tonight, maybe we’ll just leave.”

“Yeah, it might be best to go somewhere more private to make this deal.”… Read the rest

in Poems

leather & lace

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Sometimes I think
of how you would have been
had I been someone else. 

We would have been friends,
just friends, surely, but
we’d connect on a level higher
than with anyone else in our lives.

We’d go from anonymous to
monogamous, eventually, and
we took an awful lot with us
when we went, but it’s okay. 

I’m safe. I’m done with my
days of leather and lace.
I’ll be anything you want
me to be, if you just keep me.

Today’s poetry prompt words were: sometimes, anonymous, and leather.

in Blog

Hello, my name is Cheney.

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Write about your first name: its meaning, significance, etymology, etc.

Like Dick Cheney?

Are you Dick Cheney’s granddaughter?

Don’t shoot me in the face, Cheney!

You like the dick, Cheney?

My middle name is Meaghan and I think that was supposed to be my first name, until my mom was reading a book one day and saw the name “Cheney” in it and thought it was a good name.

It has not turned out to be a good name.

Before this Dick, Dick Cheney ruined my life for some years, I still hated my name.

I was angry when I … Read the rest

in 1000 Stories

paying rent – 21/1000

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You are too deeply engraved into my heart to leave.
You’ve built a home here inside of me; you live in
my hand, too, yours in mine, and in bed we
tangle limbs and get as close as we can –
and if you can do that,
how can you think of leaving?

You are to embedded in my soul to leave.
You’ve taken up residence, you pay rent,
your thoughts control my thoughts, and
oh, how I wish that weren’t the case,
but I love you in ways most won’t ever
understand, but you understand me,
that’s all that … Read the rest

in Poems

i won’t bite

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When you say you don’t want this, I don’t believe you. I mean, I believe you wish you’d never had this, but now that you do, this is what you want to keep. It’s been so long now, you don’t feel at home in the world anymore, just here with me –  and I don’t bite, I swear. Not if you love me. Not if you promise to love me, and stay with me forever.

Today’s poetry prompt words were: I don’t believe you, it’s been so long, and bite.

Image created in Gemini by me – I am enjoying … Read the rest

in Blog On Writing

help me live my dream

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What’s your dream job?

If you’re here reading this, you’re sort of looking at it.

My dream job is to write for a living (again). I got a taste of it for a few years when Newsbreak was just throwing money at me, but that income source dried up like an old African desert well and the tap has never really been turned on for me again.

So, I write.

I write poems every day, not because I think they’re going to make me money, but because I love writing poetry and I think the more I write, the better … Read the rest

in 1000 Stories

murder – 20/1000

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He slams the cash on the counter. “I need a bouquet with a hidden meaning.” He’s not the first to ask.

“What meaning, sir?”

“Murder.”

“Murder again!?” the shopkeeper exclaimed.

She puttered around the room and talked:

“Well, my heavens, sometimes I wish I didn’t keep promises, like when I promised to keep this shop open after my grandmother died. She passed the magic along to me, though. Don’t worry, dear. I’ll solve your problem.”

She presented him a bouquet of the deepest red roses, and he watched her spray them with something.

“Don’t sniff – only her.”

“Who?”

“Your … Read the rest