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If punctuation was animate,

underline would be that nosy, gossip person

–lurking nearby trying to overhear, and making too much out of things.

Italics would be an exotic foreigner, speaking with an accent, and unfairly favored because of this.

The bolded ones would be fat. Loud-mouthed and opinionated, they would hang out with ampersands: &

Hyphens would be your home-boy, your drinkin’ buddy, and bro’

droppin’ g’s, & comin’ up with the latest slang-thang alla time…

–the M dash would obviously be in a hurry to get to the next sentence–

and the exclamation point would take things personally! ‘Would make mountains outta molehills, and twitch! ‘Dropping things from pockets, and dropping more when leaning to retrieve those things!

The period would be boring. ‘Would be a nine-to-fiver, with pens inna breast pocket of a short-sleeved dress blouse.

the question mark would be curious, obviously, perplexed by Q’s, and the philosophical ones would be perplexed by A’s, as well. These would be the long-winded ones, and really? I think that redirection would stem from subconscious resentment of its hump-backed state…

and the ellipses would go on and on and on—kinda like this—and never know when to stop…


Final thought: why doesn’t punctuation incorporate itself into its term?





exc!amation point



The point is…they were stealing a candelabra…and other, obfuscated points…

Karen Robiscoe dba CHARRONs CHATTERthe taper caper

lost its luster,

at guttering

–of candle cluster

lacking light, the vagabonds

–could not with

the ‘bra

abscond. . .

ensuing darkness



addressed abating,

of needed light to clinch the crime

–resulting in a hefty fine

since thieves are never


for crime or time

and all related

–debts incurred while planning heist


the theft of lights.


prompt: taper


Equine Writes

Back in days of yore

–there was

a centaur waging war


he’d fallen for a flighty miss,

an equine known as Pegasus,

and way back when

–as story goes

was set against

–these horsey beaus

the reason being that the beasts,

had plows to sow

not vows for priests,

inflamed, the centaur sought


for equal rights

—no more

or less–

loading bow, and loosing arrow

felling those whose minds were narrow

and though the price

he paid

–was high

in end he wed his

–soaring bride

atop Olympus mount—

“I do’s”

were neighed and nickered,

swapping shoes

Yes story is


both dreadful


–so glorious

the resolution clear, of course,

the right to love–

half man & horse.


prompt: notorious


Well Maid Peace

my lacquer,

is knackered,

is chipped, nicked and finished–

and clear,

my veneer

is dulled and diminished…




is cracking—no joke!

my varnish

so tarnished,

there’s no anecdote…

yes, I’ve lost

my gloss

tossed wrenches unneeded,

explains why

my wolf cry

is lately unheeded…

with bluster, though

luster grows

finding way back

to un-knick

my knacker,

and polish with wax,

a layer

mixing prayer

with skin newly formed…

in animate


patina unworn.


prompt: knackered

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