For: https://sparksfromacombustiblemind.com/2020/08/25/its-really-not-obscene-tittynope/
Once upon a time ago
There was a little king
He had a little wife
Who would do a little thing.
She’d pick off all the edges
Of peanut butter toast
And leave those for her husband
Tittynopes she would boast.
But soon the king got tired
Of all her little scraps
He sent her on vacation
On her butt he left three smacks.
©2020 CBialczak Poetry
Written for Di at pensitivity101: https://pensitivity101.wordpress.com/2020/08/25/three-things-challenge-338/
Your three things today are:
SILLY
GAME
BACKFIRE
And so the cat came back again
To tempt the boy and girl.
He wanted just a silly game
not for a problem to unfurl.
He told them both to grab the fish
Inside his tiny bowl
The fish he yelled he was just fine
And then his eyes did roll
He knew what was in store for him
He’d been here once before
The last time that the game ensued
It backfired more and more.
The kids they took the poor old fish
And put him in the sink
The cat he was a crazy thing
And took the bowl to drink
He wanted to just taste the fish
But not let the kids find out
Luckily the kids were faster
They saved the fish no doubt.
And so the cat he left again
And took his mess and game
The children often look for him
Of course they know his name.
©2020 CBialczak Poetry
refuse to accept or be associated with
There once was an orange man
Who did whatever he can
To live like a king
With a hooker, had a fling
I repudiate this nasty man.
©2020 CBialczak Poetry
Written for: https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2020/08/25/rdp-tuesday-cycle/
Like the cycle of the moon
Or the shooting of the stars
The sun shines downs upon the earth
While people search for Mars.
Pluto has gone off alone
But still it plays a part
Of all the hype and all the news
Which make us all seem smart.
©2020 CBialczak Poetry
Written for: https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2020/08/24/accidental/
Is it accidental that I met you on that day?
Is it a coincidence you looked at me that way?
It’s almost like how gasoline belongs only in cars
You are my dream come true, its written in the stars.
©2020 CBialczak Poetry
*****************************************************************************************
My Contribution:
She stared up at the light. How would she ever get up those stairs and then what another flight beyond thtat. She didn’t know how many stories down in this basement she was and she didn’t know who would be waiting at the top of the stairs, if she got up them. He had broken her feet, smashed them, so that she would never walk again. He wanted her as his pet, his toy, and he never wanted to lose her. He told her it would be best for her to stay in the basement where it was cool. She begged to go upstairs, to see some sun, to get some fresh air. She really wanted to see where she was and figure out how she was going to get help.
She didn’t know how long she had been here. The last thing she remembered was walking out of the Shop ‘n Save and pushing the cart toward her car parked at the end of the row. Someone had said “excuse me” and then everything went black. Didn’t she have family that was looking for her? Didn’t she have a husband who was missing her? Were the police looking for her? She hoped someone was looking, she couldn’t stay like this for the rest of her life. If she wasn’t found soon she figured she might have to
©2020 CBialczak Fiction
Stine Writing 
You must be logged in to post a comment.