All grown up…

For many years,
I played all the games,
and I continued to play
while the fun lasted.

But winning got old
when nobody was left
to see me win, so in the end
I gave up playing.

I know you’re probably
still playing all the games,
and that’s great,
I hope you are.

But for me, I think I’m
too grown up for games,
so I’m leaving all the wins
to you.

© 2021 Michelle Cook


Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/converse-classic-retro-vintage-2485685/

Writing prompt: Spoiled brats and games like that

*I decided to repost this one today since it goes with the prompt challenge for this month. I know I’m kinda cheating here as far as National Poetry Month goes, but I just didn’t feel like doing this prompt again.

Rosy red petunias and pretty pickled peanuts

Ravishing in red
She’s pretty as a petal
Just pitch the peanuts

© 2021 Michelle Cook

*And yet another one of my writing prompts doomed from the start. Where do I come up with these? 🙄


Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/dancer-dress-sunset-sky-cloud-red-2793110/

Writing prompt: Rosy red petunias and pretty pickled peanuts

Hip hopping hoodlums and rash inducing radishes

Toxic thugs triumph
Causing skin crawling issues
Some blame radishes

© 2021 Michelle Cook

*I can’t believe I thought for one moment that I could successfully use this prompt, and I’m not sure how I even came up with this prompt in the first place. But when you’re conspiring with a twelve year old, anything can happen. 😉 I’m determined to keep my writing streak all month though. So please just shake your head and be on your way. I’ll try to do better tomorrow.


Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/man-secret-face-mysterious-whisper-4393964/

Please enjoy all the writing prompts found on my other blog: Hip hopping hoodlums and rash inducing radishes

Lost loves and unlickable lollipops

She knew she was getting closer
as the crashing of the waves
could be heard just ahead.
And with each thunderous roar,
she felt the beckoning vibrations
welcoming her home.
Those undulating arms
grew her anticipation,
each surge increasing her desire
for all she had missed.
And as the last golden mound appeared,
her excitement could hardly be contained.
For she knew in just a few more moments
she’d be dipping her eager toes
in those wonderful frothy tides.
One last hurdle was all it took,
and then a sigh and gasp broke free.
It was even more beautiful
than she’d remembered,
and a sea of gleaming diamonds
met her wondrous gaze.
The lolly she’d been enjoying
suddenly fell forgotten.
The shiny morsel deeply embedded
in the powdery sand.
The jaw-dropping scene
left her limp and bedazzled.
The setting much too impressive
for any other cares.

© 2021 Michelle Cook


Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/north-sea-mother-child-boy-499030/

Writing Prompt: Lost loves and unlickable lollipops

Juicy jokes and buttered books

I watched the whole lot of them,
the fence line sagging in protest.
Each smoking and joking,
eying up the classics on display.
I found the sight troublesome
knowing how boys will be boys,
and as the cigarettes wore down,
I could see their restless forms
swaggering my way.
Shivers ran down my spine
as the jostling jokers spotted my gaze,
and I tried to shrink into the backdrop,
but the prowling had already begun.
Darts of catcalling
were hurled my way,
each unsettling word,
a dagger to the innocence of my soul.
This act of playfulness reminded me
of how a lion toys with its prey,
and I knew once the hunt began,
anything left of my dignity
would not be spared.
I tried to act inconspicuously,
walking backward
one trembling step at a time.
But then the books I held
began to slide right out of my arms,
and the movement
caused a chain reaction.
Like red-flagged raging bulls,
the whole bunch
began to barrel my way.
Caught in a panic,
I tripped and fell,
but the embedded asphalt
was the least of my worries.
I tried to stand
but realized it was too late,
the pride was already circling,
waiting to pounce.
In the end, my tormentors
were too tough to deter
and all I could do was fight
with bated breath
until my virtue
no longer remained.

© 2021 Michelle Cook


Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/smoking-young-people-youth-be-cool-737057/

Writing prompt: Juicy jokes and buttered books