Letters To Euturpe #62 – Liminal

He stood in the doorway of what used to be his kitchen.
She sat on a chair at what used to be their table.
Her eyes were downcast.
Her voice was silent.
Treads of tears stained her face.

He entered what used to be his kitchen.
Now it was just hers.
He walked over to what used to be their table.
He stopped beside her.
And he felt lost.

Lost for words.
Lost for deeds.
Lost for ways
For her to see him, hear him, touch him
One more time.

He smiled.
It was a challenge.
And challenges had always been his thing.
When her life and his life were combined
Into their life.

He would not back down from this challenge.

He stretched his hand forward.
Worried that she wouldn’t feel it.
Worried that she’d slap it away.
Worried that she wouldn’t know it was real.

His hand landed on her arm.
She didn’t flinch.
She didn’t raise her head.
She didn’t react at all.

He pulled his hand away.
She raised her head.
She glanced around.

He said her name
It was just a whisper.
It was liminal.
It was barely perceptible.

He said her name again
And sang it like it was his favorite song.
He sang it as she sat.
Alone at her table.
In what was now her kitchen.

He sang it all the day.
And she listened to its melody.
With tears in her eyes.
And a smile on her mouth.





Author’s Note: I borrowed the first line of this poem from the Robert Frost poem mentioned in What Rhymes With Stanza’s Weekend Coffee Share post.

He is all pine and I am apple orchard.
He is all rocks and I am a flower patch.

I wonder why we get along like we do.

He is storm clouds and I am rainbows.
He is restless nights and I am happy daydreams.

Why do we get along like we do?

He is miasma and I am clear air.
He is snarling dog and I am happy cat.

Is there a reason why we get along like we do?

Is it because we are such opposites?
We can’t help but be there for each other.

As night needs day and as clouds need sky.
We can’t help but be together.

And maybe that is why.
We get along like we do.


Letters To Euturpe #61: A Fog Is A-Comin’

There’s a fog a-comin’.
I can feel it in the wind.
Be sure to wear your hat
When you go outside.

The fog is a-chillin’.
I can feel it in the wind.
Hand me your hat.
And stay inside.

For it is warm
in here.
And it is
safe inside.

The fog is a-callin’.
I can hear it in the wind.
I will wear your hat
And go outside.

But you.
Must stay here.
Here it is warmth.
Here it is delight.

Don’t go outside.



Letters To Euturpe #60 – Toast

My ideal breakfast would be toast.


Doesn’t matter the kind of bread.
Doesn’t matter the kind of jam.
Or naked bare.


I can see it heating up in the toaster.
But it can’t be too light.
And it should never be too dark.
It must have the right balance
so the butter melts smooth and sops into the bread.

Sometimes I feel bad for the bread
as it heats on both sides at the same time.
It seems like torture to be treated that way.

But ahhhh.






Dreams And A Landscape

Author’s Note: This was inspired by Sarah Doughty’s poem “Dreaming”.

Helena sat quietly on her bed and contemplated her life. She saw it as a landscape, full of valleys and gorges and very few mountains.

The gorges were deep and dark.

The valleys were arid lands.

There never was enough sunlight. The moon was never full. It stayed shaded in the new phase.

She found none of these thoughts to be all that uplifting.

Amazingly enough.

The people who cared about her told her to always chase her dreams.

But what if her dreams were nightmares and they wanted to chase her instead?

And they were indeed nightmares.

Nightmares of deep maroon and unexplained fears and not being able to run fast enough from the vicious darkness behind her.

And they were every night.

The bathroom light shut off and he entered the room.

She looked up at him and smiled.

He stood in her landscape.

An oasis in the arid valleys.



More than enough light to brighten up the gorges.

And he would be there to help her find good dreams to chase.

Every night.



Daily Prompt: A Touch Of Her Perfume

A touch of her rosemary and mint perfume lingers in the air. Sometimes I smell it. Sometimes I don’t.

Sometimes it catches me when I’m lost in a good book. It passes by as if she is there, walking from one side of the room to the other.

Sometimes I catch it when I’m in the shower. I pull back the curtain, expecting and hoping to see her reflection in the mirror.

Sometimes it overpowers the scent of my food.

Every time I smell it, I miss her more.

I could leave this house and move away. Leave her perfume and all of those memories far behind.

That is what I think late at night, when her scent is missing. When I miss her the most.

Then, I wake.

The touch of her rosemary and mint perfume wakes with me.

And so I stay.



via Daily Prompt: Perfume

Painted Lives

My people were creators. They painted the life they saw around them. Animals. Women. Children. The grasses blowing long in the fields.

They painted lives with what we had available: berries, stones that smeared color, mud, plant juices. Sometimes they used blood.

Life was not easy, but it was beautiful.

Our lives were saved and documented for our children and our children’s children for generations to come.

But the waters receded.

Our plants faded into brown and into sands.

We lost our berries and our plant juices. Our animals died away or moved to greener lands.

The waters kept receding into dust and dirt and sand and deaths.

Too many deaths.

We had to make a choice. Stay and die. Or walk through the barren lands in search of green.

We left.

I have grown older and wiser in many ways.

Yet, still I long to see our lives painted on those walls, saved upon those walls for our children and their children and all of their generations to see.

They will never see it.

Those painted walls are too far away. The journey back is too long.

Except at night.

I close my eyes and I see once more our ancestors and their children’s children inked and bled into the wall.

Though I have many years behind me and so few before me, I will go back there some day.

Super Condensed Fantasy Mystery

“I’m just a yokel security guard two days away from retirement. Ho! Something weird’s going on over here. I’ll check it out. Too bad the power’s out and my flashlight isn’t working all that great and—ack!”

“Hahahaha! I’m the bad guy. I’m standing in the shadows so you can’t see me clearly. Bad magic to your face! Yeeeah! And you’re dead.”

“That would seem to be the case. Blearrggh…”


“I’m an elf. I’m an private investigator. I have problems, but I’ll just hint at them for right now. I have a hot girlfriend, but she doesn’t show up in this scene. So, never mind. I have a murder to go investigate. Bye.”


“I’m investigating. Something’s wrong with this crime scene. Not sure what. Oh. That’s my boss. He hates me and my elfness. I don’t know if that makes him a racist or what, but ehh. Whatever. This is my quirky female partner. We will never kiss or anything. So, don’t even think about shipping us. Even if we do have some awesome chemistry going on.”

“Oh, hi. Person who’s just standing about. Did you see anything? Yes? Tell me about it. Oh, you have some red herrings for me? Thanks! I love herrings. Yum yum yum.”

“Love interest just called with personal character development stuff. Please excuse me. I’ll get back to the mystery in a second.”

“Okay! Now, that I’ve shown off my amazing chemistry with my love interest (even though some of you will still want me to be with my quirky partner for some reason), back to the mystery.”

“Hello, suspicious character in a sharp black suit and sharp black shoes. Who are you and do you have any connection to this crime? Did you know the victim? Do you know who may have killed him? Oh, you have a whole pile of red herrings for me! You’re way too generous. Uhh, do you want to take some back? I don’t think I can eat all of these herrings. You’re right. I can share them with my female partner who is not my love interest.”

“Cute banter with my not love interest female partner. Oh, she’s an elf too. Sorry. Forgot to mention that earlier. She’s sassy and full of attitude. She doesn’t like my red herrings. She thinks there’s something off-putting about them. Hmm. She has a point. They do smell pretty fishy. I mean, as red herrings go.”

“Oops! It’s time for my problems to manifest themselves. Eearrgh! Such problems. Problems. Problems. Problems. Oh, love interest. I’m so glad you’re here. Let’s kiss away my problems. Smile. Lots of love.”

“Okay. Enough of that. Back to the mystery.”


“Bwaaaahahahahha! I’m so evil. No one will ever know that I am evil. Especially that dupe of an elf. He’s stupid and clueless and I will eventually try to kill him. But not yet. He doesn’t have enough clues to ire me up.”

“I’ll be back later. Till then, bwaaaaaaahahahahhahaha! Remember how evil I am.”


“Okay! Things are looking good. We have a suspect. So, I’m interrogating him. My boss is standing over my shoulder, muttering about my incompetence. I kick him out of the interrogation room. Geesh! There’s a time and place, man. Time and place.”

“Tell me what you know.”

“I know nothing.”

“Yes you do.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You do.”




“Aww, come on. Give me a break. I’m an elf. I can tell that you’re lying.”

“Oh, shoot. Uhh, do you want a red herring?”

“Nah, I have too many.”


“Tell me the truth.”

“Okay. Someone killed that guy, but it wasn’t me. It was…Ack! I’m suddenly and shockingly dead. bye. Too bad. I had all of the information you needed. Oh, well. I’ll give you this strange and cryptic item. My mission here is complete. Now, I’m dead. Glaaaarrrg…”


“So, I’m doing some investigating on the strange and cryptic item the dead body gave me. Uhh, sorry. Interrogation room dead body. My boss is yelling at me again and threatening to kick me off the force. Dude. I’m not even on the force.”

“I really worry about that man. But I’m going to engage in some more cute banter with my female partner. But there is nothing between us. You want me to wind up with my….Oh, look. My love interest just entered the room. Just as my partner and I look like we’re about to kiss. We’re not, by the way. She had something in her eye and I was trying to see what it was and…”

“Well. Yeah. My significant other totally misunderstood the situation. Now, she’s all mad at me. *sigh*”

“Okay. Enough side track, I just found a few more clues based on that strange and cryptic item.”

“Darn it! I just realized that all of those red herrings were dead end fish. Like, they all led me to nowhere. I’ll just have to throw them all out. Plus, they were all starting to smell pretty rancid.”

“Darn! My problems are manifesting themselves again. I wish my significant other were here to comfort me as she always does. But nope. She’s still mad at me. Won’t even answer my phone call.”

“Ohhhh. Problems. Problems. Problems. Crisis point. Misery. Such problems.”

“Oh, my partner is here. She’s talking to me and patting my back and making me feel so much better. My problems are fading away. I’m so glad she’s here.”

“She says something that pops me out of my doldrums. I can see what I’ve been missing. I grab the strange and cryptic item, mess around with it, half-break it, and voila! Part of the mystery is solved.”

“That’s when I realize that the security guard’s death was just a red herring. There’s more at stake here than I imagined.”

“No. My partner and I don’t kiss or anything. Why do you ask? Why do you even expect it? Come on! I have a red hot love interest. True, we’re not speaking at the moment and she kind of let me down when I really needed her.”

“Anyway! I’m rushing back to the scene of the crime. No. The first crime. As we’re driving along way too fast, I’m monologuing to my partner and she’s chipping in with what she thinks. The solution to the mystery is coming together in beautiful ways.”

“Here we are at the scene of the crime. I find proof that my partner and I are so right. Huzzah!”

“Oh! Hi, honey! I’m so glad to see you again. What’s wrong? You’re acting all weird. Is this because of the mad crazy chemistry I have going on with my partner? Look. It’s like this. She and I are buddies. Nothing more. I totally mean that.”

“Okay. You’re still acting weird. What? What? The bad guy is here and he’s using you as bait? What?”

*bullets fly left and right*

“My love interest pulls out something that looks like a computer’s flash drive. She points it at me. Zap! Pow!”

“And I’m unconscious. My second to last thought is Babe! What the heck? My very last thought is I hope my quirky partner is okay.”


“Bwaaaaahahahahaha! You have done well, my lovely.”


*whole bunch of hugging and kissing between bad guy and MY love interest.*


“Anyway, I’m conscious now, but I’m all tied up. And my problems are starting to kick in again. Darn! Why now? I don’t see my partner anywhere, but my range of vision is kind of limited (due to me being all tied up). I call out for my love interest.”

“Well! Wheee-hooo! and a whole bunch of other cat-calls. My love interest’s just entered the room and she’s wearing an outfit that is just pure eye candy. I have a bad feeling I’m drooling. But that could be connected to my problems, which are spiking upwards.”

“I ask her to help me. And she gives me a whole load of bad attitude about me and my quirky partner. I try to tell her that there’s nothing going on between us. It’s all platonic.”

“I think I sound pretty convincing. I wish I did. But my voice is kind of whiny because of my worsening problems.”

“That’s when the bad guy comes in. I’m secretly hoping that it’s my boss because that would be pretty epic. Nope. It isn’t. It’s that suspicious character in the sharp black suit and sharp black shoes who gave me that whole big pile of red herrings. (Darn. I think I left them on my kitchen table. Darn darn darn. My house is going to reek of fish.)”


“Yes, me.”

“Why? I’m asking this even though I have a pretty good idea. I’d  just like the verification.”

“Okay. This is why.” *insert long and convoluted monologue.* Oh. *Also, insert a whole bunch of character abuse.*

“I clench my teeth in pain and rage. I demand that he release my love interest from his brain hold.”


“I lose control after the fiftieth ‘hahahaha’. My problems reach their climax. My elf powers go berserk!”

“Oh, no! Your elf powers have gone berserk! Ahh. uhh. Seems like this is a good time for me to escape. Bwaaaaaahahahahhahahahhahhahahahahhahahahahaha! You will never catch me! You lose, sir! You lose forever!”

“I would normally try to stop him, but I’m barely aware of anything right now. My mind is about to deeply fry out.”

“Then. Something touches me. Even though lightning bolts are shooting out of my body, someone touches me. Hugs me. Holds me tight.”

“I start to regain control. My problems die down. They will never truly go away. But right now they die down. My senses return. I can see who’s hugging me.”

“My love interest. Wait. Why were you expecting it to be my partner? She went off to call for back up and she’s currently getting the upper hand on the bad guy.”

“But right now. At this moment, the bad guy, this whole mystery, even my quirky partner…None of that matters.”

“I totally make out with my love interest and whisper sweet words to her.”

“And she finally sees. She understands where my heart lies. It is always with her.”

“Oh, there’s some fun wrap up stuff, including the bad guy being thoroughly trounced by my partner, but we’re gonna wrap up with me and my love interest wrapped up in each other’s arms.”

“All of the ruckus and noise behind us fades away. We are so happy. We are so in love.”

The end.

Daily Prompt: One Fry Day

I haven’t had a French fry in a very long time.

Don’t get me wrong: I loved them as a kid.

But as soon as I got out of that whole adolescent/teenager food glomping thing, I realized something important.

I didn’t need French fries to feel good about myself.

I could live just fine without them.

And you know what? I have. I have lived a peachy keen life free of all of those greased up fats slathered all over and into a poor pathetic slice of an excuse for a potato.

I don’t need the starches.

Don’t need the grease.

Don’t need the mega trans fats.

I am a survivor of my horrible teen years.

And my life is just right.


My life is not just right anymore.

The man I loved.

The man I thought was 100% the one.

That man…He’s gone and left me.

Even wrote me a Dear Jane letter and stuck it on the fridge.

Couldn’t even give it to me in person.

He’s gone.

I don’t know how to handle this.

I don’t know how to process this through my mind and make any sense of it.

I read his letter over and over and over. I can see the words in my head when I look away. I can see the curve of his letters. The pin-prick perfection of his punctuation marks.

I recite it when I take a shower and before I go to sleep.

No matter how hard I try, it doesn’t make sense.

His words are empty and useless to me. They’re just scrawls of ink on paper and I can’t make sense of them.

I need to get out of the house.

I need to get something to eat.

I need something to uplift my crushed down spirit.

I need what I haven’t had in such a long time.

French fries.

They will make the pain dissipate.

I will feel better.

I need the carbs and the starches.

I need the saturated trans fats.

I need to know that everything will be fine with salt and ketchup all over it.

I’m going to stop at the first fast food place I see and order the largest size of French fries.

And I know.

Everything will be all right.



via Daily Prompt: Fry