Words bind us to verse, the worst part is held hostage to truth, a fluid rhyme dislodged, loose
Words bind us to verse, the worst part is held hostage to truth, a fluid rhyme dislodged, loose
Charmed, I'm sure, she said through gritted teeth, anger at his interruption buried barely beneath
for #mastoprompt
I've a predictable tendency to drift, upon reading,
as if I'm needing rest from immersion inside of a text
for #mastoprompt
A soft container of feathers and fluff -
the stuff of dreams
Enough to keep these thoughts at bay:
Now, perchance, to sleep
for #mastoprompt
Dawn's arriving - night turning knobs on the lights of day - as I write you here, in delightful limbo, wandering in ink, gathering words I've not yet found ways to say
for #mastoprompt
Sound bleeds through the magnetic reel of a banged-up four-track tape machine
We were too busy pushing buttons on a song to worry about audio spills, in-between
Rewinding the cassette, remixing all the levels lost for hours inside the labyrinthine
for #mastoprompt
At the heart of avocado, mango, mangosteen, lychee, cocoa, or the rubber tree - the recalcitrant pip refuses to be coaxed into saving, behaving instead in opposition to the orthodox seed
for #mastoprompt
(with information help from Wikipedia)
Before the coffee, my writing brain, it barely even functions
I'm like a train stalled on Schoolhouse Rock, without the sung conjunctions
for #mastoprompt
Juggling ideas before the rise of sun
the day today has not yet begun;
a premature awakening
for #mastoprompt