Lipstick…

Her lips shaded red

WIth passions burning desire

Drawing me closer

Sparking smouldering yearnings

To want for love’s one true kiss.

*****

FSF

Filed under: Poetry Tagged: FSF, Tanka

Anbar and Caleb…

Anbar looked down from the battlement, the field in front of him was littered with the campfires of the Garvorian army. He stopped counting at 15, mostly because he couldn’t count any higher and he wasn’t even sure if he got to 15 properly. Caleb, the night watchman, walked over to him and put his hand on Anbar’s shoulder, causing him to almost soil his britches. 

“You ok, Anbar?” Caleb asked as he looked at the blacksmith’s son.

“Other than almost crapping my pants, I’m great.” is what Anbar thought, but he only said, “Other than almost crapping my pants.”

Caleb looked at him sideways with a screwed face. “Ok.” He finally responded, shaking the comment off, then looking out at the campfires on the field. “Tomorrow shall be a good day, aye?”

It was Anbar’s turn to look at Caleb with a screwed face. “Why’s that?”

“Battle! Glory! Death!”

“Mine or theirs?

FFfAW 8/11/15

Filed under: Micro Fiction Tagged: FFfAW

Blaze of Glory…

“Where did they go?” Carver asked as he dove behind the old brick wall. Several shots rang out and kicked up brick-dust in response.

“Had to ask?” Gabby said as she tucked even lower behind the wall. Carver just smiled and shrugged as he checked his Peacemaker’s and pulled back the hammers. “What are you doing?” Her voice notched up an octave.

“If I’m going to die, I’m doing it on my terms. And my terms are in a blaze of glory, darlin.”

“You’re gonna get yourself killed!”

“It’s kinda going to happen one way or the other.” He smirked as he took a deep breath, then spun around to face the wall, kissed his guns, and began to stand, stretching out the guns in front of him to fire.

The roar of gunfire echoed all around and a second later, Carver’s bullet riddled body slumped behind the wall.

MFtS

Filed under: Micro Fiction Tagged: MFtS

You Kill the Joe…

Don’t leave it empty,

I just might cry.

No coffee? Not any?

I want to die.

Who could have done this?

How can it be?

Why would they do this,

Especially to me?

You kill the joe,

You make some mo!

Filed under: Poetry Tagged: Coffee, Yeah Write