Almost There was Almost There…

Tim Sevenhuysen, mastermind at 50-Word Stories, has announced the 2019 Story Of The Year winner.

I made the Finals but, sadly, my contribution (“Almost There”) did not take home the gold. 

Congratulations to Evan McMurry, author of After the Water,  for a highly worthy win, and to the Honorable Mentions (Melody Leming-Wilson and Bob Thurber) as well. All extremely satisfying reads.

I am honored to be among the Finalists, and am very grateful to Tim for including my work among all of these outstanding contributors.

Find All (12) Finalists Here

50 word

While We Wait

Soon enough we’re scattered ash,
—all of us, everywhere,
above and below the ground.

If there are any heavens
we must seek them out today,
in our own flesh,
in our mothers’ voices
and our lovers’ touch;
we must listen for the angels,
singing by a stream
in a tangle of grass
among sun-warmed stones.

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P&S United / Pantry #4
Let Poetry and Prose Be Our Break from Catastrophe
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6939 (for KFL)

345

I woke up at 3:25.
Don’t ask me why.
I think you called.

I didn’t get up, though.
I just lay there, zombied;
worked it out in my head.

You would have been proud.

Three-sixty-five times ten
plus three-sixty-five times ten
minus three-sixty-five.

Then I counted up
the Leap Years
(This one hasn’t come yet):

2016, 2012, 2008, 2004
—we’d celebrated the Millennium—
I added them in.

Exactly at 3:45 AM I knew
exactly how long you’ve been gone,
exactly how long I’ve missed you.

Forgive me, please. I didn’t
calculate the hours and minutes.
I’m too old for that now.

Still, if you were still here,
you would have been proud.

I’m going back to bed now.
I have a rugsucker dream to finish;
I’ll tell you all about it soon enough.

Rude Awakening

sand-691710_960_720

Tomorrow morning I’ll remember:
longer sleeves, a pair of socks,
and jeans. Maybe even gloves
and a bee-keeper’s bonnet.
Tomorrow I will turn the tables,
not make myself a mosquito feast.

The isolated cabin was cool and
still somewhat dark amid the dunes.

Who would have imagined them,
the swarms vampiric, winged agony
sucking the pleasure out of a quiet
dawn’s coffee, first morning of
the migrating mountain Sasquatch,
come down from his highlands,
lame, longing to see the sea?

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P/S United ~ Scribble #3
Salt-Water Poems

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The Co-Signer

Leonardo DiCaprio and I—that’s right,
the movie-famous Mr. DiCaprio and I—
bought ourselves a dreamcar last night
just before the dreamlot closed, just before
I had to get up to pee, to face another day
at hard labor, trying to haul the ignorants
out of the darkness and into the light
without stripping my gears.
………………………………………….Not that Leo
had any real interest in co-ownership. No.
He only wanted to help me out, help me
make the deal; get me up and running.
Mr D. had all the cars a famous actor guy
could want; but he’d taken pity on me,
grinding my way up Redemption Ave.,
and volunteered to be my money man,
forking over the ten percent down.

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RDP Tuesday ~ Movie
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Fair Warning

torch

It burns like a torch
but no longer points the way
—all it does is burn—
Stand back, brothers and sisters
Time is turning up the heat

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RDP Monday ~ Torch
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