Beneath the blue and beautiful sky above the ground of stones a tower looms with glitter and gold in beautiful hues and tones and in this tower there will be a maiden so fair and so sweet Waiting for a prince to come along and sweep her right off of her feet!
Welcome to The Whirligig, a place for you and your muse to find inspiration. Each Wednesday I will post 12 words with which you may create a poem, a short story, or some other piece of writing. Use the words in any form, as many (or as few) of them as you wish.https://sundayswhirligig.blogspot.com/2021/10/whirligig-340.html
You will be able to link your writing to this site anytime, for the link never expires.
If you’d like to contribute 12 words, please e-mail them to: firstname.lastname@example.org
THIS WEEK’S WORDS come from “Song Sparrow” by Bruce Willard: sound, before, decades, porch, sparrow, summer, held, hand, bent, fingers, feathers, bone
Along the walk I took today I never pictured what I’d see A dove, a tree, a whole forest And there were elves in front of me To my dismay and to my fear They just came thundering right by And stopped right there straight in my path I blundered and let out a cry The biggest one had a tattoo Upon his hairy chest And then the one who was so small Wore an old, brown leathery vest It was the one in the old vest who spoke to me high with a shrill “The forest is the danger here” He said loud with an angst until I bent way down to his small size An umbrella right near his ear “I covet my own privacy So you just go away from here” He looked me up and then he said Like a brave king upon a throne “I’m seven years the king of here This is the forest I do own!” So then I took a large step back Letting me give this guy some space But he didn’t want to let it go He got right back up in my face “I said that this is my own land And you’re no longer welcome here!” I turned to him and loudly said “For that I don’t really care!” I turned again to walk away And then I felt his little fist He didn’t realize I was so big So I grabbed him by his wrist I swung him up right to the tree Which was standing there where we were I told him “take a flying leap” And now that tiny elf’s no more!
Rising slowly above the mist the corpse will come he has a list of those to visit of those to haunt like your uncle Paul and then your aunt and then he’ll go and find you shaking to see what kinds of trouble you’re making he’ll laugh and grin and you will scream like the ghosts of hell in a real bad dream.