hot under the collar.
Hot and cold
…you are to me.
Hot as Hades
hot property… (you are).
I’d like to own you
Whew, it’s getting hot in here
is it my hormones… or the beer?
No, I think it’s all this heat,
when you are here, fans can’t compete
with all the cheering and the screams,
that stir the coals, that burn so deep,
reminding that I’m hot for you.
we were playing hotn’ heavy
when the sky began to change
our weapons they weren’t feeling steady
our strategy we’d re-arrange
we dropped our guns, and ran for cover
the rain was falling hard and fast
we knew our challenge wasn’t over
yet, knew this turmoil wouldn’t last
with all the strength that we could muster
we pooled our powers all in one
with one HUGE flash …
our world was empty …
we knew our quest had just begun
it’s a house of cards
teeter here, totter there
young and old
dance with the roll
of the subway cars
drinks coffee with Mr. Roarke
Happy Birthday, love
Be the ink that tells a story. Find your way under someone’s skin. Do you want to be there, or are you entering against your will? Give us a poem from the ink’s perspective. Tell a story or cover one—or give the person you’re entering something new to live into.
will you embrace me?
thickly, brazenly in charge
over this rainbow pallet.
I know you’ll love me the most.
my love for you will never fade,
or let you down,
(never) clash with your life
in any way.
you can wear whatever you like around me.
I will love you deeply.
stay with you, forever …
and … you will always remember, me.
*Tweetspeak ‘Tattoo’ Poetry prompt
They stood wide-eyed, looking at the specimen, afraid to go near.
Never had they seen anything like this! Does it breathe, bite? What strange life form, lives in a see-through box, hanging on a wall? How does one communicate with such a…thing?
Snow fell. Blue sky turned grey. Crystal chimes sang out, calling all return to ship.
“Should we take it with us? You think we could get it to talk? We’re told no one’s alive down here. Best let it go.” Floating towards their ship, hearing a shrill ring behind them. They responded .”h e l l o?”
For Friday Fictioneers photo copyright: Danny Bowman