#AmpersandAfterDark /:\ Challenge 002 for Feb 18, 2026
Your piece must revolve around something missing.
But you cannot name what is missing.
#prompt #writing #poetry #writingprompt #poetryprompt #creativewriting #writingcommunity #poetrycommunity #poets
You never forget your first...
Your first love
Your first kiss
Your first pizza
The first time you have sex
The first time you have good sex
Your first argument
The first time they hit you
Your first dead body
#vss #poetry #murder #horror
Affirmation Coyote highly approves of National Random Acts of Kindness Day.
Leaving a jelly donut on the ground where someone can find it is a good start.
www.nationaldaycalendar.com/national-day...
A wish is tangible hope
#7syllablesentence #wish
#poetry
I Dance
Magic is in the space
where you hold your breath.
It's that moment
before tears fall,
Tucked inside joy and grief.
We are born with magic;
It's at the core of
our nascent #soul.
Yet it dies so quickly
As reality takes its toll.
#vss365
For Alex Pretti Because his last words were for a woman; because he asked, are you okay, are you okay; because he had learned to say it by standing each night beside the dying; because sometimes he held their hands; because he had lived only as long as the scent of childhood in an album; because he was a son; because he sang once; because of all of it, because of all of it, because of all of it, tell it, tell the story: a breath has left; a country is dying; and a man laid his face on its pavement today as though he were listening to a patient's heart— even then, even at the ending— to do what he was there to do: heal. —Joseph Fasano
for Alex Pretti
“Over the land freckled with snow half-thawed
The speculating rooks at their nests cawed
And saw from elm tops, delicate as flower of grass,
What we below could not see, Winter pass.”
~Edward Thomas.
I'm not from around here,
At least not a here that
You'd recognize.
I've come from a place
Where language
Forms mountains;
Where legends are born,
And children are hatched
from stories
their grandmothers told.
Ideas rise from earth
Like rhubarb,
To be plucked up
By impatient storytellers.
#vssdaily
snow flurries
coalesce up cliffs
banshee dance
#senryu
Laughable. That could go either way 😆
Oh that's just great 😣
New Year bells chime loud
grapes pop like confetti bites
Midnight tastes like hope
#dailyhaikuprompt (grapes)
#5amwritersclub
#writingcommunity
#haiku
Happy New Year, everyone! 🎉
she’s only gone
and spilled her p o e t r y
all over the place
again
it sticks to our fingers
like summer syrups
sings like nectar
upon the tongue
and we simply cannot
bear to clean it up
we’d rather come
u n d o n e
#poetry
This would be
The line I meant to say
That #brilliant prose,
A syntactic spell
That would endear you to me.
Alas, it was not the line spoken
And, spell broken,
I watched as you walk away,
Shaking your head at
My ineptitude.
Forever admonished,
I hang my head in shame.
#FromOneLine #whistpr
I #survive Christmas -
Not by ignoring
The relentless ache
Of holidays past,
But by embracing
Memories of happier times:
The warmth you brought
To every table,
The laughter
That filled your soul.
From the carols sung
To the tinsel hung
Your memory still brings
The merry to my Christmas.
#vss365
Photorealistic oil painting of four red Christmas baubles resting on a white surface. They reflect light and cast shadows.
'Nobody ever asked me what I wanted for Christmas... I did not want to have anything to own, or to possess any object. I wanted, rather, to feel something on Christmas Day.'
Toni Morrison, The Bluest Eye
#BookWormSat
🎨 Emma de Souza
They can be very persistent. Good luck with your new project!
Ahead of Friday's Krampusnacht, or "Krampus Night," read up on the folklore character who comes primarily from German-speaking regions of Europe and whose main duty as St. Nicholas’s companion is to punish or threaten naughty children while the saint rewards good ones. blogs.loc.gov/folklife/202...
Broken ornament. Source: The Guardian
Time cracked bauble
Falls from the box
And once-held
Memories of Christmas
Spill onto the linoleum floor.
The light shifts,
And I am once again that child
Who laughed boisterously
Under light-laden trees
And danced under
A falling snow.
The ghosts of Christmas past
Nod their approval.
#BSPP48
Welcome to our three-part series on book rebinding, where Library of Congress advanced book conservation interns Brittany and Devon will take you through all the steps of rebinding a book from the Library's Thomas Jefferson Library Collection. Stay tuned for parts two and three!
Winter creeps slowly
Morning frost on the holly
Scent of pine resin
#Dailyhaikuprompt
.
a soldier cries out
"Where's my sweet nightingale, my love?"
nearby crickets weep with tears
.
#oddlyme
old prompt #vssdaily #nightingale
#poetry #micropoetry
Growing old can mean
Trading middle age madness
For ancient wisdom
#moonmystic #haiku
Perfect families
Hide such horrific secrets
Children must endure
#haikufeels #Dailyhaikuprompt
In the wee hours
When the house is quiet,
My crepuscular brain
Starts to do
Its nightly zoomies,
Those mental calisthenics
That are often accompanied
By shame, guilt, and
The crippling remorse
That lives in the shadows.
I have come to
Loathe the creature
That dwells in the dark.
#vss365
