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Pink I


with pinking shears

I cut my slip,

quit my job

hit the bricks,
 
 
headed to a pub, and then–

drank till I saw elephants

–rosy red

like my eyes–

crossed & tossed

I didn’t drive,

leaving my pink Cadillac,

at Bruce’s bar

(parked out back)

walking home

I found fresh air

sobered me

–pinkie swear

next day woke up in the pink

house & mood

in spite of drink,

moral is

when getting pickled:

laugh it off

pink

your tickle.

 
 
 

prompt: pink

Betcha

if you can’t be the best–

you can always be better,

since less is a mess

for losers and lessors

–your own thing

the lone thing–

you hone

no howevers.

whoever you are,

you’re a star

–lace or leather.

prompt: better

Write Angle

 

You have to carpe diem

or fate will pass you by…

since seeing carp

— don’t free ’em —

for that you need to fly *

so don’t wait–

* bait & seize ’em

unless you don’t fish fry…

©Karen Robiscoe

prompt: fry

 

Sandals w’out Socks

Achilles was—

God.

How to describe Achilles?

Perfect in every way

but prone

to pronation

–outer pronation

This

tendon-cy

was most apparent when

he danced

(which was next to Never)

but in time

1-2, 1-2

he healed.

 
 

prompt: heal

Caged Lines


 
 
With yarns

I knit a cover

(story)

–writ 1, girl who—

wove a golden weave
 
 
 
 
 
some pearl,

some pattern,

some patchwork,

the killer quill’t

I fashioned

failed

to blank-it

chill within

–but certainly let it out

which was fine

(if not fuzzy)

because

whipped flat

it spread

. . .

lying flat enough

with are-me corners

and strategically arranged cushions

disguising dropped stitches

–and most laughing matter, besides

yet duvet dossier

scratched the wrong itch

tickled the odd bone

–scarcely

the Sunday funnies

most lounge around

to read.

 

prompt: outlier