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Happy Tuesday! Today we get a two-fer from Robert Lee Brewer. Here’s what he’s posted at Poetic Asides:
First prompt: Write a love poem (six).
Second prompt: Write an anti-love poem (six).
Simple as that.
And here’s the enticing little gem I selected from The Writer’s Book of Matches (Writer’s Digest Books):
After courting online for months, a couple finally meets face-to-face in a hotel bar. Neither looks anything like the pictures they exchanged.
Looks like we could have overlap, but that makes it even more fun. Good luck, everyone. See you in the comments.
Bearing Witness--The Wall
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Today they started building The Wall. When I woke this morning and went
down to the kitchen, Mum and Dad weren’t there. I followed the low murmur
of the ...
7 years ago
5 comments:
Something happened to the formatting on my first attempt. Let's try that again.
No Such ThingSo Julius thought he was in love with her. Lucinda could see it in his eyes—hungry and desperate eyes that lingered on her breasts for a moment and then roamed over the rest of her body—and the frequent attempts to catch her gaze and hold it, as if he could communicate his longing through a wink and a smile.
Odds were, it was just another office infatuation. She’d been down that path before, falling for the old happily-ever-after one too many times, only to get her dreams crushed by a simple “It was fun while it lasted, hey?”
If men were truly honest, it was always about conquest and getting their satisfaction and making themselves feel a little better, a little lighter; it was never about love or completeness. No, as far as Lucinda was concerned, any concept of love in the male brain had been replaced by a gush of hormones.
Must be a system glitch, Stephen. But even wonky formatting doesn't detract from your 6 today. I think you nailed these two characters. And the names! :) Love it. Nicely done.
Greta
Hey BabySure, I was worried, but what guy wouldn’t be when he was finally meeting the woman of his dreams and he looked nothing like the photo in his emails?
The guy next to me lit a cigarette, the smell seeped into my nose, my hair; it made me crazy, because I wanted one, badly, but couldn’t have one, couldn’t risk smelling like a cigarette, not when she’d told me how much she hated smoking.
My leg bounced up and down on the footrest of my barstool, humming with energy, but no way to burn it off, not in this hotel bar three hundred miles from home and while I waited poised at the cusp of my future.
“You seem nervous,” the guy next to me said, a good looking guy in his mid-40’s, maybe a businessman, but you never could tell these days.
“Yeah, I’m meeting someone,” I told him, “and I haven’t been completely honest.”
“Funny…,” he said, flicking ash in the ashtray, “because I could say the exact same thing.”
Oh, Greta. That one is extremely funny. Nice job.
Wonderful, both of you!!
I'm derelict in my duties. Will get back to you.. I promise..work #@$$, am just eating my dinner of frozen pizza now, at 8:30...sigh....
jb
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