Writing Prompt 2

Welcome to the second day of our 30/30!

How was yesterday? Are you excited? Aren’t you proud of yourself for coming back?

Your prompt today is:

 

The blind ghosts find us by

 

 

Image credit www.cliparts.co
Guidelines, if you want them:

  • Posting your response is not required
  • Feel free to post your response   🙂
  • This is not meant to be the perfect first draft – respond without hesitation for 5-7 minutes, then keep going if you want to
  • While our prompts are geared towards poetry, we welcome all kinds of artists
  • Tips & encouragement are here
Advertisements

8 comments

  1. Day 2
    this is how my blind ghost finds me…

    when he can’t see me, he listens
    for my heart beat, missing a beat
    or the way i swallow hard, almost
    choking on nothing at all.

    when he can’t see me, he smells me.
    there’s garlic in my breath, musk under my
    arms, and fish between my legs.

    when he can’t see me, he feels my
    heat, my cream moistened skin or my
    course hair, brushed hard, pulled back.

    when he can’t see me, he tastes my
    salty tears, my musky skin, with
    all the creams and lotions i use.

    and when he finds me, he fills me.

    Liked by 3 people

  2. today we are not inspired/by a bipolar sunshine/
    suspended in a daydream./today we simply exist/
    /in scribbles of vapor/seeping through/ the scree/
    at the bottom of cliffs/inconsequential, scattered./
    today is a day/where a mere whiff of seagrass/
    tips the scales/lightly/to where the blind ghosts/
    find us by/desolate crags/skimming the surfaces/
    of melting twilit skies/hiding forever from judging eyes./

    Liked by 3 people

  3. Blind ghosts find us by touch,
    moving fingertips across us
    to find a keyhole in the dark.

    They can read us like braille,
    our bodies night writing
    in 6-dot code,

    silent, in the dark,
    caressing us into
    a language of grief.

    Liked by 2 people

  4. pheromones – smells we cannot smell
    Was I reluctant to hug that aunt because of her cologne?
    Is the sweat permeating the air repugnant/attractive?
    Standing under the cloak of trees in the backyard,
    I gently turn my head right, tilt it up
    to a scent that spreads a half smile across my face.
    Even blind I would recognize the where and what of it,
    soft pink oleander opening dozens of blossoms –
    so why not those we love,
    blossoms of connection that bind us
    in this life and the next,
    chem trails of interactions and experiences
    leaving behind subtle and less subtle scents,
    ways for even blind ghosts to find us.

    Liked by 2 people

  5. In the Predawn

    The blind ghosts find us strictly by
    feel: how our breath moves the night
    curtains, how our toes leave ten
    imprints in the carpet’s pile. Not a
    single clue but multiples along the
    well worn path. They touch our
    sighs, steal them from the wind,
    and pretend they are songs, carry
    them away into the pine trees to
    sough and carry on when the late
    night mockingbird goes still and
    the owl’s head falls onto its soft
    plumage in the dead ash. Tonight
    I hold out my hand, daring them
    To take it, hoping that together
    We might lead each other away
    The one by sight, the other by feel.

    Like


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s