Tag Archives: writing

Surviving Winter

small leaning tree in snow
In the effort of
exercise
I shovel
to the back of
the house

Along the path
I find
a drooping tree
surviving
in the snow

In the effort of
relieving pressure
I shovel
off the back of
this tree

Fruitless
my efforts
I used my hands
but it would not
stand upright

It is amazing
how plants
weather
the seasons
for generations


This is my attempt at the Gogyohka form, explained in the previous post.
You’re welcome to try this form yourself.

Physical Engagement – Guest Post

I’ve been reading about different poetic forms in my Writer’s Digest. Today, I’d like to explore the Gogyohka form.

Gogyohka literally translates as “five-line poem,” and hails from Japan, developed by Enta Kusakabe. The rules are quite simple. The poem consists of verse written in five lines, but each line is a separate phrase. It is described as “having a different feel to five-line verse commonly found in Western poetry.” 

Here is a sample by the creator of the form, Enta Kusakabe:

What kind of
stained glass
have your
rose-coloured cheeks
passed through

It’s meant to be both concise and free. A compound or complex sentence is probably too long. The phrases may be seen as separate, but connect.

Here is my offering, inspired by a recent workout my coach named, “Fifty Shades of Pain.” Oh, yes!

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Physical Engagement

Standing tall
I drop my head
to curl small
and breathe
easier dead

Aching body
acetaminophen cured
strong enough
to climb mountains
on my mat

Slam down
the medicine
in a ball
rolling around
thrusting it out

Push up
that kettle to
slide against the wall
holding the squat
just a bit more

Fifty shades of pain
reward your body
with sweaty beads
glistening skin
a sea of sparkles

What about you? Do you have lines you’d like to share? Give it a go.

photo credit: ** via photopin (license)


Editor’s note: I asked Amy if she could do a regular gig here, and she was up for something monthly.  You’re all invited to participate, in a comment or ping-back.  If this poetry form, and a few more ahead, sound good for an official Link-Up, let us know.

Friday Fictioneers: The Other Side

Welcome to Friday Fictioneers, hosted by the one and only Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.  This time, we get a 2012 peek at Dawn Landau’s photo album for the prompt.

I would like to apologize for missing the last one.  I did catch the prompt, and thought about what to write.  The only thing jotted, though, was the final line: “He said he was from Krypton.”

Well, now I got this one down.  Other than formatting and rolling ideas in my head, I spent only nine minutes on this.  Enjoy.

“The Other Side”
Genre: Fiction
99/100 words



Copyright — Dawn Q. Landau

I took a camping trip, glad to get out.  I always wondered what was on the other side of the train tracks.  It was a new experience, to say the least.

Kylie was allowed to take Lucy, since Lucy was so well-behaved.

We walked beside the tracks, and hit our trail.  And that’s when it happened.

The growl was loud; it startled us all.  Getting killed wasn’t what I had in mind for “the other side.”  But Lucy fought.  She took all the bear’s attention.  Eventually, the bear gave up.

Yeah, I think I’ll stick to my side for now…


Participation is welcome to all.  The goal is to write a story, beginning-middle-end, in 100 words or less.  You are also encouraged to “think outside of the box.”

Click here to view the inLinkz for what others have written for the prompt, or add one.

Visit Rochelle’s Addicted to Purple for her own take(s) and her Friday Fictioneers page for more details.  You can follow her blog for the prompt each Wednesday.

Falling to the darkness

I spend time away;
it breaks me free from the monotony,
but it breaks me, still.
Delayed drops of silence
and warning bells times three,
out of the loop for years, until…

I find myself loopy,
wild beyond reason,
within closed doors,
for each passing season
neglecting the life.
For what, more?

I reached out my hand, sprained.
I gave another welcome, drained.
I failed to make friends and amends,
exhausted myself toward belated ends.
Here, no matter the public,
the contact fades; it always does.

I’m not looking for fame; I want things to work;
yet the old nonsense and noise
overshadow everything; I regret,
holding myself to the flame,
short of entertaining or entering
the eternal furnace…yet.

I long for respite,
should decline become my middle name.
I don’t want to turn back, now, though
too often looking back with shame.
I can and plan hope for the better
years, anew in bad health.

The new world I feel, it feels like it’s falling apart.
The older fool of thirty years
becomes blind in more ways than just one;
ahead of the curve, he was, and still is
in too many ways wrong to count.
It’s so hard to climb in life, and yet so easy to fall.

And so, I bite my tongue, again;
I chew my lip, and take a sip,
and dip;
I shoot from the hip
in my way, slowly
falling to the darkness that resides before me.

Friday Fictioneers: Beyond the Portico (2015.02.13)

Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for both the prompt and the photo.

The photo made me think of a period piece.  I can’t call this historic fiction because there’s nothing in history to base it on.  (I’m not an avid reader on history, let alone someone with in-depth knowledge of Georgia state history.)  I did not sleep before I wrote this.  You can still constructively criticize me to death anyway.

“Beyond the Portico”
Genre: Fiction
100 words



Copyright — Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Today, the sun shines its welcome, while infirmity confines me to bed.  Still I hear the hooves outside, crushing, churning gravel.  Not one bit, are those sounds lost on me.

I was in love that day.  I chose to surprise Tom.  I thought I’d have his hand, and his mine.  And what a surprise it was that my brother leapt to save me.

Time has not appeased momma’s pain.  Still, I find it odd that she does not blame me for Jacob’s death.  Momma suspects my guilt caused this horrible illness.  At last…I think it’s time to see my brother.


Participation is welcome to all.  The goal is to write a story, beginning-middle-end, in 100 words or less.  You are also encouraged to “think outside of the box.”

Click here to view the inLinkz for what others have written for the prompt, or add one.

Visit Rochelle’s Addicted to Purple for her own take(s) and her Friday Fictioneers page for more details.  You can follow her blog for the prompt each Wednesday.

Where the truth hurts

Hadn’t I
turned out this way,
in a heartbeat I would,
as far as I could.
But no further
do the chips land in my favor.
No matter
the chips’ addictive flavor,
as I bend unwritten rules
to fulfill a moment.

The more you speak,
the more you sound
ideal; your words I allow to feel.
But I know.
I hold
to the truth, so far,
and my heart on a leash.
It is there, by itself.
Where the truth hurts.

Long, Ensue

it’s times like these, I long, and ensue
and push as deep as my well can go
until the ugly fear stifles my word
breaks my courage in two

If I’d a million, as some say
suppose it’d solve my day
suppose it’d cure my ills
suppose my insecurity would fall away

but nothing can cure what I am
sometimes the world just is
as cold as ice
even when it’s soft as snow

my heart yearns so much so
sometimes
I believe
but it cannot grow

Friday Fictioneers: Cornered (2015.02.06)

Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for the prompt, and Melanie Greenwood for the photo.

Thinking of mazes, the image at one point made me think of a particular game with pseudo-3-D graphics, and…well, I’ll let your imagination fill in the rest… 🙂

I spent about forty minutes total writing this one too.

“Cornered”
Genre: Sci-Fi
100 words



Copyright — Melanie Greenwood

Pulse racing, adrenaline high, Adrian sat against the nearest green wall, and inspected his wounds.  It’s come to this, he thought.  I’ve worked for the Federation twenty years, and this really might be it.  His job was extremely dangerous.  He’d numerous close calls, and this time he was without armor.

He prayed.  He hadn’t prayed in ages.  But as he closed his eyes, the voiceless mechanical sounds drew near.

Adrian jumped in time to dodge the bullets.  He ran far, but the cyborg closed in.  Garden maze.  I’m dead.

Cornering him, it froze.  Sigh.  Killswitched.  Just in time, thank God.


All participation is welcome.  The goal is to write a three-part story in 100 words or less.  You’re also encouraged to “think outside of the box.”

Click here to view the inLinkz for what others have written for the prompt, or add one.

Visit Rochelle’s Addicted to Purple for her own take(s) and her Friday Fictioneers page for more details.  You can follow her blog for the prompt each Wednesday.