The Well Speaks of Its Own Poison, Maggie Smith

Thought a fun way of sharing my reviews for Alternating Current might be doing this…

Thanks for checking them out!


Ten Word Journal-ing (8)

Creativity coyly seduces reason inside my brain keeping me complete.

People knew dentists would know the truth,
but lied anyway.

Valentine’s Day pizza,
had enough for two,
went home,

Some turn to poetry for ease,
but discover it challenging.

Poet who doesn’t know it,
needs more than rhyming mastery.

Poetry, unique as fingerprints or as common as brown eyes.

So be it.
The thoughts summoned whenever distance is imposed.

Water trickling in from neighboring walls,
an unwelcome surprise.

Trust and compassion gradually replaced with dissociation and minimal communication.

Electric flash,
Thunderous roaring proceeded.
Goodbye tree, I am sorry.

Ten Word Journal-ing (7)

some will use
what one didn’t request against you.

Anxiety crippled her performance,
but she prepared,
and was fine.

Thought matters.
Even when evident
The gift was for anyone?

If you don’t expect anything in return,
I’ll willingly accept.

With enough repetition,
she could manage playing one unstable note.

This one time at band camp, oh, it wasn’t camp.

Floss tied to a doorknob,
wasn’t ready,
out it came.

Possessing the dapper-ness of a tailor,
it was all style.

Mind disturbances
only loneliness stirs,
thank goodness for having cats.

No ringing, texts, or emails.
Did anyone still remember him?

Ten Word Journal-ing (6)

Rattling bank,
lack of coins indicated too many cash ins.

The Piggy bank looked at another,
and said “beats slaughter.”

A free night of film discovery from a caring network.

Generosity was giving away her last two chocolate chip cookies.

Her time was handed over freely,
but needed SOME reimbursement.

Remember the pressure, hours of reviewing?
I somehow miss them.

She pushed herself for keeping A’s,
that’s all she had.

Content appeared
Was the professor bored
Or needed us awake?

It died
Once left in my care.

Her lips prevented her from exploring certain woodwinds,
how sad.

Ten Word Journal-ing (5)

For many
Gastric butterflies are endearing
For others
Social nightmares.

She could change the date on Facebook,
few would notice.

Your personal new year,
showered with jubilation or painful reminders.

Her favorite
from Amsterdam
was longer than she was tall. (1/3)

Wrapped around her neck,
it could still kiss the ground. (2/3)

Thoughts, impractical,
but what other person would have one? (3/3)

Reached his hand,
Pulled her close,
As their song played.

She could never dance cheek to cheek (was too short).

Appeared in dream form,
but gone before I could think.

Floating through wild adventures with the click of a channel.

Ten Word Journal-ing (4)

Head tilted attentively as the hands construct words into meaning.

Music volume audible without damage,
the novice singing in unison.

Devoted he was.
Sacrificing chance of death,
for people unknown. (a haiku that just happened to be in ten words)

Summoned to attend
Contingent upon
“Ugly” or “tacky” sweater adornment.

A party of one?
Necessary after a party of some.

She was a voluntary party guest once,
every two months.

Flights home weren’t comforting,
counterparts couldn’t embrace at baggage claim.

She ransacked the house,
“Where could it be?”

Writing improving led to confidence improving, these were good things.

Another year,
Another line,
Another crack in her shallow spirit.

Ten Word Journal-ing (3)

Sweetness goes so far,
“sleeping beauty”
mocks us lazy bones.

I cannot envision myself as Aurora,
and I never will.

Tray en route,
arrive at cashier,
you need more funds.

24th birthday celebration.
Out all night.
Dehydrated all next day.

Standing against walls at social gatherings,
an anxious kiddo’s paradise.

Back to wall,
she drank until she could abandon it.

“Don’t pick him up, he’ll pee on you!”
Warning unheeded.

He hopped across my porch,
somewhere to be,
snake slithering.

She remembered Dumpy Tree Frogs,
softness of skin and toes.

Butterflies were welcomed
until he transformed them into anxiety weapons.

Ten Word Journal-ing (2)

Their sharing of aprons screamed egalitarians,
but that wasn’t it.

During the thunderstorm,
my telephone rang,
I was calling myself.

He stared at her photograph and sighed,
lovers too distant.

She was his antidepressant,
but not enough people understood this.

Best haircut he ever had,
she was reminded barbers exist.

Eyes followed
as if she had entered
the wrong universe.

The smock tightened and tightened
until he drifted into unconsciousness.

Have difficulty choosing,
but could narrow options
based on genre.

Those which compel cringing,
thinking, and becoming emotional
get approval.

My mother sometimes greets me:
“hello sleeping beauty,”
it’s sweet.

Ten Word Journal-ing (1)

Run the stairs
Down the hall
Something to do?

Tuna or egg salad?
I’ve never had the latter.

Buying tuna salad,
as a sandwich with discretion,
is enjoyable.

The egg salad was spoiled he discovered midway,
illness followed.

The story of my life,
but I’m working on it.

Don’t look in the mirror fearing disappointment defines your being.

One time,
I exploded with rage,
thankfully I was young.

She uttered “I love you,”
but embraced the nearest suitor.

Some arrangements aren’t monogamous,
but if breached,
cause identical pain.

She wears aprons.
He wears aprons.
It’s a swell time.