Jellyfish jolts

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Prone to misfortune
And many blunders
As her poor mind
Would often wander

She made
A terrible mistake
Of getting up
At daybreak

And she set out
To the sea
Hoping for a day
Of soaring free

But the girl’s spirit
Led her astray
As the tide swept
Her cares away

And after that first
Erroneous step
She sighed from her
Nonchalant attempt

Because one stride
Became too many
As she nearly squashed
A silver jenny

And the next footfall
Was even worse
Such an unfortunate
Squishy curse

For that jellyfish
Wasn’t missed
And that pathetic girl
Just yelped and hissed

The stinging jolt
Was quite unamusing
Leaving her foot
Swollen and oozing

The unlucky girl
Had only wanted a day
To leave her burdens
Far away

But her carefree
And heedless endeavors
Were tragically
Tainted forever

© 2019 Michelle Cook


For a month of writing prompts, click here;  Jellyfish jolts

Cynicism at its finest

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Cynicism is a trait
I oft regret
For when pessimism abounds
I’m usually upset

But sometimes my outlook
Just can’t be eased
So I bide my time
Feeling unappeased

© 2019 Michelle Cook


For a month of writing prompts, click here;  Cynicism at its finest

 

Unraveling steel threads

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She grew tired
Of knowing
And tired
Of pretending
For one
Can’t easily forget
A hidden agenda
Emblazoned
In neon orange

© 2019 Michelle Cook


For a month of writing prompts, click here;  Unraveling steel threads

 

Silky submersions

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Silky
Submersions

Swayed by
Perversions

Same old
Reversions

Such futile
Diversions

© 2019 Michelle Cook


For a month of writing prompts, click here;  Silky submersions

 

Always in a crowd

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No matter day nor time
He’s mysteriously there
Often presenting himself
As a charming reflection
Or sometimes merely peering
Through airy sheers
As if lost in another dimension
And when I see his hazy image
Forming late at night
Standing casually by the curb
Under that old, misty lamp post
I’m fully convinced
That my delusions
Are fully functioning
As the churning whirls of smoke
Find their way
Over to my door
Each captivating puff
Curling up against my nose
Alighting my senses
With the waft of bygone days
Ones that could never be forgotten
Even though their existence
Is a fallacy in itself

© 2019 Michelle Cook


For a month of writing prompts, click here;  Always in a crowd