Day the twenty-third

Today the prompt is a poem about a letter.


What?

I will not say which
But will scrawl words
That will broadcast hints
To allow a looking body
An opportunity to work it out
In sunlight or rain.

Day the twenty-first

The prompt today is meant to be a homophonic translation - but I am interpreting this a little loosely . . .

When the weather talks . . .

The rain cloud tells us to shelter, and pitter patter
Is not a matter to be considered sufficient
To ditch the um-ber-ella and forget the galoshes
That protect your immortal soul . . .
The blue sky whistles memories into mind now knowing
And echoes the shouts of a beach and sandcastle
Playing of days in the past and promises, perhaps,
Of sun kissed moon washed life again . . .
The howling wind is retching and hurling abuse
At violent misfortune, armed with a bludgeon and
Knife, smashing and slashing the flimsy barriers
Mankind has erected.

Day the eighteenth

Today the prompt is to consider life's small pleasures.


Recharge

To sit
To sit and stare across the water
Watching the light
Playing hide and seek with the hills
And the rain clouds
Teasing the trees
And dancing across the loch
To sit
Is to recharge.