You laugh in my face,
sitting right there in front of me.
Blazing with brilliancy,
smirking with golden complexity.
With an ego full of universal wonder,
you know I can’t describe you.
I’m powerless in the midst of your grandeur,
even though I often think I’m your equal.
You smile kindly regarding my naivety,
as your heartbeat shifts my view.
The world cries in anguish,
as you remind me of who you really are.
© 2026 Michelle Cook
Photo generated with AI
There are days
when everything is right,
days when all the fields
shine so bright.
But today is not
one of those days,
instead, it’s just proof
of how nobody prays.
Today the sun
has lost her glow,
and the rain sent instead
has been all just for show.
Fattened gray clouds
still gush in sheets,
flooding sunken corners
on empty streets.
Sorry puddles
reflect sullen skies,
waters blurry black
like mascara eyes.
Echos of harsh words
woven in the winds,
a mournful reminder
of how the story always ends.
© 2025 Michelle Cook
Photo generated with AI
Continued from here
Scouring the corridors for any sign of a way out, Darla walked briskly, knowing exactly what the Detainers would do if they found her. She’d already scurried through at least a dozen different passageways, and each adjoining area she found led to even more open-aired hangars. The hangars were full of battle-ready fighter jets and monstrous-sized cargo ships. Each silvery gleaming monstrosity seemed to be floating in unified anticipation of what was soon to come. Flashbacks of the Old Gods kept filling Darla’s mind. How had the world she’d left just a few years ago gone from pleasant rolling hills blanketed in emerald green clover to the current devastation, which was spreading more each day? It was difficult to understand how greed could be the cause of so much despair. And where was Abbefore she wondered, had he escaped and gone back into hiding, or was he now captured along with the others? And with that last thought, a sudden searing pain shot through her arm, and then another nipped at her upper thigh. That’s when the lights went out, the flashbacks disappeared, and with the onset of darkness, the dreams began.
© 2024 Michelle Cook
Continued here
Photo credit: https://afterwards.blog/
Writing challenge: https://afterwards.blog/2024/01/22/afterwards-writing-prompt-3-monday-22nd-of-january-old-gods/
Like a geyser, I gush,
spurting my rage,
but it’s all underneath,
turmoil engaged.
From the top of my head
to the bottom of my feet,
the swells of unrest
continue to heat.
The storm grows stronger,
destruction in its wake.
Still, I try to breathe calmly,
fearing I might break.
And nobody ever knows
the misery I endure;
It’s all just a façade,
a superficial blur.
© 2022 Michelle Cook
Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/grief-woman-cry-destruction-pain-5501796/
Those frog pudding days
Just lead to dumpy doorways
Somethings gotta give
© 2021 Michelle Cook
Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/gate-old-stone-aged-decay-doorway-3718546/
Writing prompt: Frog pudding and dilapidated doorways
Her Writing Haven 