Putting things together is something I do all the time
Lets me add all the nuances I think I need
Until I start to subtract by adding too much
So am I good at knowing when that happens? No, but when I do learn it, it will be a huge…
The information dragged on and on as far as the mind’s eye could see
Her imagination trying to scoop it up and deposit it into memory
Research she knew she would use later
Examining lines of thought and spinning them together
As she wrote down her ideas
Determined to weave her story
Looking at the arrow of time, he felt that it was wrong. It didn’t explain his bouts of DeJa’Vu.
Oh, that’s why he had spent so much of his life putting together this machine from those moments.
Only did he have the balls to press the button and see what would happen?
Pushing it he winked out of time. When he woke up he had a feeling he should make a time machine…
Maybe it was too late in the day to do such things, but she tried to solve his riddle
Under the glow of a full moon, she contemplated what he had said and how he had said it
So many possibilities rattled around her cranium, demanding she fit the moving pieces together
Her head started to pound as she felt the pieces fly away, her ability to comprehend slowly devolving to…
Putting together a list of steps
Looking for any fallacies and fixing them
After all of that was complete, he put his scheme into motion
Nothing went right after that. So much for a good…
Growing rows of amber waved in the hot wind
Reaching for one of the sheathes, she pulled the kernels free
And rubbed them against each other in her hands, freeing the seeds from their husks
It released a wonderful smell of summer turning toward fall
Nodding she walked back to the farmhouse. Tomorrow they would harvest.
Every word he wrote on the paper was a bucket full of holes
Making them equally as worthless at holding anything inside
Perhaps he should just give up now and save the time and effort
Though it did make the lifting of each one easier in its own way
Yes, maybe he would haul of them into place now since it was easy and spackle it all together during rewrites
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Fires roared through the house, consuming everything in their path
Leaving behind black charred remains of a lifetime together
All of those bits of the past turned to smoke as if an offering to a non-existent deity
Mumbling to himself, the former occupant of the home shuffled in his slippers down the street
Everyone would be worried about his dementia, but if he couldn’t have those memories, no one would.
Putting two together was the desired goal of most people
And in some things, she would agree with them.
It didn’t apply to her socks. People always asked if her dryer ate one of them
Reality was she only bought singles since she usually got dressed in the dark.
Been promised that everything would be fine
Except that was never going to be true
That shouldn’t have surprised her
Rachel had grown up on the wrong side of the tracks
And no one there was ever able to keep their word, even if they tried
Yet this one hurt more than all the rest put together
Everett said he would always be there to hold her, to help make things right
Death had conveniently gotten him out of that, the bastard. She spit on his grave.
Stories and photos from Scotland
A paper-cut survivor
Abdi Mohammed
The Art of Prose and Poetry
self-publishing
Sarah Torribio and her right brain. Music. Musings. Writing. Style.
We Survived and Arrived - Now as Warriors We Thrive
With previous posting of "Our World" on Blogger
Sharing is Learning
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Random Stuff I Think You'll Like
Things I love, typically with people I love. Will likely be hiking, baking, and doing other things that make me happy.
The Official Home of Rolli - Author, Cartoonist and Songwriter
Never Short On Words 