A place to gather words before they get lost.

Winter's barren promise:

a life, sleeping dormant,

waits patient for the arrival

of Spring

for #mastoprompt

Tension and fissures;

breaking points within corners

where pressure exists

for #mastoprompt

Wired crossings create the hub,

feeding tension in the places

where ideas chafe, and rub

for #mastoprompt

We wander inside these daily gifts – the sunrise breaks the morning mist

for #575prompt

A blue note A bent note A glissando pressed against the stage, a cat stalking the curtained cage

An embellishment An accomplishment A soloist in the spotlight, playing their way into an astonishment at midnight

A soft light A lost night An audience who raved, then went their way, jazz clocks rhythming into moonlight

for #mastoprompt

How is it, years pass, and still, we're sharing our words, my inked pen-pal friend?

for Terry

Repose: a quiet moment in the lee of a bending pine tree, as a westward wind sings a song of solitude

for #mastoprompt

Every platform program has a plan now for a plus-this or a plus-that

for a few extra dollars, a deluxe experience, promised to be had

Which makes us all mad, and a bit sad, since all we want is a story we can fall in

Not an advertising blitz that feels a bit like a brawl in which we've been stuck in

for #mastoprompt

I am not, today, that Yellow -

the sunshine, the banana peel, the faded-out brushstroke of evening's solace, the brightly-lit place where smiles reside when pushed aside

I am not primary, with Sister Red and Brother Blue, the Sunflower petal falling in slow motion from the vase as I sit here beside you,

I am not just another colored spectrum cog on a spinning wheel of science, for when I am down, I am more Green or Brown

and I am not, today, that Yellow

for Open Write

Loud peepers in spring sing songs of cacophony, and then grow silent