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

Wilting efforts

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If success is only measured
By man’s own heart
Than what the hell have we been doing
From the very start

We live each day
Trying so hard to get ahead
And with all this mindless shuffling
It’s a wonder we aren’t dead

We scurry and worry
Then we sigh and we cry
While all along never realizing
We’re really just living a lie

Because this isn’t actually living
It’s not about what we’ve done
At the end of the day
We aren’t even having any fun

Instead we’re torturing ourselves
Frustrated by our lack of gain
Each day is just a wilting effort
Driving all of us insane

We’ll never accomplish everything
And never be all we’d like to be
It shouldn’t take our entire lives
For us to finally see

We’ve got to stop measuring our happiness
By the world’s standard views
And take on the dauntless challenge
Of living a life of a whole new hue

Daring to risk it all
Our regular lives might come with a cost
And yet without even trying to change
We forget we’ve already lost

© 2018 Michelle Cook

*This is what my brain produces at 3 am when I can’t sleep.  Lol… Have a great day everyone!  😉  ~M


Writing prompt:  Wilting efforts

Running to Who from Where

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Running low on hope
empty desires fade on the winds
rescue seems futile in the footnotes
of reckless endangerment
and sin’s
got an $8.50 ticket to my scene
blood, forget, more blood in my dreams
there’s rivers, but I can’t drink
there’s night, but I can’t sleep
just me and my memories run amuck in mind
just me and my sanity, hiatus for long times
just me and my insecurities, I need a sign
just me and
I can’t finish the line
I’ve done so much wrong
Would it even be right?
To go on
To become one with the light?
I’ve won and I’ve lost
Tossed
And I’ve turned
To bring back what could’ve been
That just isn’t me
Once remembered
Once forgotten
And once again
I lay here alone
Ideas and thoughts not of my own
What happened to a home?
Or a place to call my own?
Well that just isn’t foretold
Feeling old
Yet it’s only cold
Feeling gray
Yet what can I say?
To the me that has yet to be seen
Or is that just simply a dream?
Just who am I?
To be brave?
To be saved?
To brave the calling of reality
To lose my senses of insanity
I want to say it’s alright
But how can I?
Just a lie
Then I sigh
Even though I try
I just can’t seem to say good-bye
Maybe there is more
Turning a blind-eye to what made me sore
Yet I can’t let go of the “Who” that is me
And I can’t let go of the “Where” that I might go
And I can’t bring myself to give up
On what might’ve been saved

 

Written by, Devereaux Frazier and Brianna Cook

*All italicized words written by Devereaux.

Just want to say thank you, to both Devereaux and Brianna for your participation.  This poem is wonderfully written.  You both did an amazing job!  😉