Tag Archives: little girl

“the sun sits pretty

Posted on September 29, 2021 by purplepeninportland

Written for: The Twiglets #246 – “the sun sits pretty” Red sun sits low. Pretty soon it will sink beyond horizon of ocean. Sun is sitting pretty, shining from her throne, wielding power to turn the earth into gold. pretty … Continue reading →

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Fun Things To Do

Posted on August 30, 2021 by purplepeninportland

Written for: Poetic Bloomings2 Prompt #349 A “Shel” of Your Former Self THE LITTLE BOY AND THE OLD MAN By Shel Silverstein Said the little boy, sometimes I drop my spoon. Said the little old man, I do that too. … Continue reading →

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Waiting for Belle

Posted on August 8, 2021 by purplepeninportland

Written for: Sunday Muse #172 (posted by Carrie) She does not understand. Why did her beloved Belle, resplendent in scarlet and pine green feathers, fly away. For five days she waits each morning, dragging the parrot’s cage to forest’s edge. … Continue reading →

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Tattered, But Safe

Posted on July 25, 2021 by purplepeninportland

Written for: Sunday Muse #170 I am torn and tattered because I never truly mattered to little Susie. Devil was in that child. Even her parents were wary of her. She burned me, drew symbols on my face, and left … Continue reading →

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“rain through a net”

Posted on October 7, 2020 by purplepeninportland

Written for: The Twiglets #197 – “rain through a net” silver comets slide through net of sky rain water rinsed apples in a netted bowl. a slip of a girl dragged from one home to the next falls through the … Continue reading →

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won’t translate

Posted on March 11, 2020 by purplepeninportland

Written for:  The Twiglets #167 – “won’t translate” You cannot translate a dance, you can only interpret what you see. When my grandparents spoke Russian, no one translated. transformation difficult feat to perform butterfly leaves cocoon There once was a … Continue reading →

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On Golden Surface

Posted on September 29, 2019 by purplepeninportland

Written for:  Sunday Muse #75 Little girl stands on golden tracks of moon. Across a long distance, people are trying to climb ladders, but they fold, slide, will not stay in one place. One man is hoisting himself up by thick … Continue reading →

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Somebody Get Me A Washcloth

Posted on September 8, 2019 by purplepeninportland

Written for:  Sunday Muse #72 I do not mind her kissing me, but she spits. Then I have to wipe off slobber with my paw. http://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/

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