Short Story, Shirt Story, Limerick

It’s a bit bawdy as Limericks should be
I do hope it gives you a chuckle
or three!


A virile young man wished to flirt
So he put on his “sensitive” shirt
It was soft pale pink
Which caused him to think
That he’d surely get under her skirt

He had the looks, the moves and the means
To finesse his seduction routines
But he felt like swearing
When he saw her wearing
Not a skirt, but some skinny tight jeans

He devised a new plan in his head
With charm he would delicately tread
He was good with zippers
But afraid he might rip hers
So he unzipped himself instead

Is this foreplay? she asked with disdain
Dripping sarcasm she could not contain
A silly pink shirt
Can’t hide such a jerk
From you I shall gladly abstain

He zipped up and planned his next move
To hone skills so his chances improve
Maybe switch to pale blue
Or self-touching eschew
To quickly get back in his groove

If the point of this story is unclear
Here’s a rule you may wish to adhere
If you’re tempted to flirt
With a pastel shirt
Resist it and just let him leer

THE END  (of a chance to score)


  The Daily Post

Not The Answer I Imagined I Would Write

The Possible’s slow fuse is lit
By the Imagination

–Emily Dickinson

Challenge: You’ve been given the superpower to change one law of nature.
How do you use it?

if I were to pen my truth

in answer to this question

it would be deemed 


and shocking

not to mention

impossible, absurd

and defying all 


but convention has no say

in my imaginings

nor does judgment have

its day or Doctor Freud

have his way

nor is censorship allowed

to suffocate the fuse

of possibilities

in my imaginings

and thus it can be so 

in each person’s

private place of 



Everything you can imagine is real. 
Pablo Picasso









Punctuation Fixation

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “By the Dots.” We all have strange relationships with punctuation —  Tell us all about your punctuation quirks!


I am a comma freak
I readily admit it
Not sure how I got this way
Maybe the nuns did it

Sentence diagrams
Graced the blackboards
In each and every class
Subliminal imprints
Guaranteed to last

Why I fixate only on commas
Is a puzzlement to me
My sister from the same school
Fixates on all punctuation


I have spent most of the day putting in a comma
and the rest of the day taking it out.
— Oscar Wilde


From The Top ~ Three Times A Story

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “From the Top.” If you had the chance to be reborn, would you choose to return as your present self, or would opt for a fresh start? 


three times
she was
 faced with a choice
to go forward with her
life and complete it
or let go of this life,
be reborn, and
start over

three times
she did not believe
herself strong enough
endure the dark nights
of pain engulfing 

her life

three times
she made a choice,
a conscious decision
go forward with this
life, even so 

three times
it did not matter what
she chose, it only mattered
she chose

it was
in her choosing
that she found her

Artist: Karen Haughey, Angel Art

Their Sacred Hour

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “No Cliffhangers.”  Write a post about the topic of your choice, but make sure to end it with “…and all was well with the world.”


each day, he came home from work

spent his one hour lunch with his son

each day, they nourished each other

feeding body, mind, heart and soul

each day, they were teachers for each other

they showed each other what love is

by being that love

it was simple,


each day, during their sacred hour

as daddy sang lullabies and read books

 the power of love bloomed in their hearts

and all was well

with the



First Crush ~ The Crusher and The Crushee

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “First Crush.” Who was your first childhood crush?


Picture 2

(This is my true story, including character’s name and physical description.)

It was in kindergarten,
his name was

His hair was jet black, slick,
straight and thick, as
were his perfect

His skin was smooth
with a slight sheen,
the color of rich,
fresh cream 

He was quiet, never rowdy
like the other boys; only
spoke if questioned
by the teacher

I began to notice that he
was always nearby, no
matter where I was,
there he was,
but not in a
bad way
it felt

One day, he came right up
next to me and spoke, in
a voice that matched
the color of his

“I have something for you.”
he took my hand and
placed a fifty-cent
piece in the
center of my palm,
he giggled, then I giggled
and the deal was

We giggled together all
the way to the end of the
school year, when he
moved away and I
never saw him

I can open my palm today
and see a fifty-cent piece,
exactly as it was placed
on my hand so long
ago by

I think
I hear the
giggling of two
five-year olds
in the

my thinking
is wishful


Red Pill, Blue Pill – I Prefer Masticating

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Red Pill, Blue Pill.” If you could get all the nutrition you needed in a day with a pill — no worrying about what to eat, no food preparation — would you do it?


life without mastication

defies contemplation

munching, crunching, 

chewing, chomping

bite, grind

nibble or gnaw

stimulate the juices

work that jaw

smell it, taste it

feel the texture 

pleasure growing

measure for measure


here it comes 

the ultimate prize

that sublimely



or     take     a     pill


Nothin’ But A Good Time ~ ANTICIPATION

Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Nothin’ But A Good Time.”  You get the day all to yourself, to do anything you please. What types of fun activities would make your day?

send wake-up note
with one yellow rose
get full deluxe spa treatment

send after-lunch note
with one orange rose
take dreamy nap

send before-dinner note
with one deep red rose
have FUN getting ready


wine, dine, candle light

in each other we delight

joyous love tonight



Sweeping Motions – You Asked, I Delivered

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt:“Sweeping Motions.” What’s messier right now? Tell us how and why it got to that state.


Her computer’s desktop:

perfectly spaced icons all in a row

folders filled with cluttered files

of what, she does not know

so, how and why

did it get to this state?

something to do with mama

and potty training trauma

with white diapers, perfectly clean

and mommy being awfully mean

when they overflowed with

a big bad smelly mess

childhood distress

anger repressed

so now she defies 

that maternal image

with perfect folders on the

outside and dirty, dirty, dirty

on the inside

and …

oh, dear … please excuse me

Doctor Freud has arrived 

for my daily couch


ta-ta for now .  .  .




Delayed Contact – A Perplexing Prospect

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Delayed Contact.” How would you get along with your sibling you’ve known for a long time — if you only met them for the first time today?


if I met my sister for the first time today

with whom I share the same DNA

              I’d feel our connection

from another direction

when we’d both laugh

at what the other

might say 


she’ll be someone I would choose for a friend

our differences we’ll gladly transcend

out of respect for the other    

and to honor our mother

nonstop humor will

help us mend



Through the Window – My Favorite View Living by the Ocean

The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Through the Window.”

from my picture window

in the background
waves, wetsuits
men, men, men
with their
boards, boards, boards

in the foreground
Pacific Coast Highway
trucks parked/surf gear

sunrise to sunset
wetsuits on
wetsuits off
wetsuits on
wetsuits off 

and moi?
very close
above it all

comfy couch
glass of wine
clean binoculars

From Me to Me – My Realest Post Yet

Daily Post’s writing prompt: “From You to You.” Write a letter to your 14-year-old self.


My dear sweet 14-year-old self,

You are precious. I know you don’t know this or feel it in your heart, but it is the truth. In fact, you don’t even understand what this means. Please know that your parents love you in the only way they know, which means little physical contact and only rare compliments, lest you develop a “swelled head.”

What you are going through right now, no one should have to go through, least of all a fourteen year old girl who has just started to blossom. I see how you’ve withdrawn into that walking body cast that you must wear until your spine gets fixed, and no one knows how long that will be. Could be months or years.

All you know is that one day everything was great, you were finally a teenager and the boys were all looking cute, and the next day it all stopped. And now everything feels bad, or worse than bad. 

I want you to know that I see how awkward and freakish you feel.  You can’t wear “regular” clothes or participate in most school activities. You always feel embarrassed about how you look.  And you are profoundly sad and lonely, neither of which are being addressed by anyone, including you.

I say all this, not to make you feel sorry for yourself, although some of that is perfectly normal. I simply want to validate your reality and speak it out loud.

If I could, I would give you the biggest, warmest hug all the way around that stupid old cast. I would look into your eyes and tell you what a magnificent human being you are, as well as an adorably cute and feisty young lady! 

I would drag you out to see a movie and get root beer floats at Merkle’s drug store and go watch the ducks in the pond at central park.

Most of all, my kind and brilliant 14-year-old self, I would make you laugh again, as much for me to hear it, as for you to feel it.