Pass Or Play – #DVersePoets #Prosery

When far away, an interrupted cry is not something you need concern yourself with.

Catherine repeated her grandmother’s words softly enough that the room wouldn’t hear them.

‘Pah!’

Her father threw his cards on the coffee table.

‘You cheated!’ He jabbed a fat finger towards his wife.

She shrugged and gathered his cards in again.

Outside the cry echoed.

‘Catherine! You play the witch, God knows she already has all my money.’

Catherine nodded and slid from the widow seat.

It doesn’t do to dwell on lost souls. Her grandmother had said that too.

The cards were split and dealt.

Two queens and a knave. A house leaking secrets. Another cry. Closer. Louder.

‘Pass or play?’

Catherine shook her head.

‘Pass,’ she whispered.

Shadows gathered by the fireplace.

She could ignore them, but the play would continue.

‘Pass,’ she whispered.

But ghosts never listen.

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If you would like to join in the dVerse Poets Pub new link up ‘Prosery’ then click the badge above to visit their site.

The challenge is to write a piece of flash fiction, a maximum of 144 words, using the line ‘when far away an interrupted cry’ somewhere in your work.

 

When Our Monuments Burn

Fire-dwarfed we all sit,

stand, wait,

drawing along timelines

scythe-eyed for news

or perhaps revelation

that this is all

just a dream, a joke.

 

Dust-tongued our words

dry up like sand

through an hour glass.

All gone and past

leaving only empty air.

A promise

cracked apart.

 

History pour out,

breaks the damn of grief

and dark-vowelled words,

replacing now with then

as what will be

already spread its roots

in the tear-culled.

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As One #DVersepoets #TuesdayPoetics

There is a collective

misguided

assumption,

that we know the words.

Singing like rusted taps,

gargling and spluttering

our way to the chorus

where enthusiasm trumps

experience,

and pipes swell and burst

so all is noise

and furious revelry.

The wave of it crests

breaks,

washes us along

to the next line.

As real as the misting

of our breaths

as we sing.

The cold is not felt

in the thick of it.

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Bloom #DVerse Poetry Forms – #Pantoum

When you arrived as the snowdrops melted,

pressed cherry blossom to my breast,

told me love is like a flower in bloom,

already closer to an end than the start.

 

Pressed cherry blossom to my breast,

found thorns that left their marks,

already closer to an end than the start

when sorrow grew from these seeds.

 

Found thorns that left their marks,

taught me how to cut out dead wood,

when sorrow grew from these seeds

pruning became vital to overall survival.

 

Taught me how to cut out dead wood,

told me love is like a flower in bloom,

pruning became vital to overall survival

when you arrived as the snowdrops melted.

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