Letters from the past,
Warning of a grim future.
Should have paid the rent.
Written for Three Line Tales: Week Sixteen.
Letters from the past,
Warning of a grim future.
Should have paid the rent.
Written for Three Line Tales: Week Sixteen.
City of dreamers,
Searching for signs of color
On monochrome streets.
Written for this week’s Three Line Tales.
An undying king
In a kingdom eternal,
And mortal subjects.
Where did it all go?
Grains of sand in my hourglass.
Irretrievable.
Heroes and villains.
Locked in eternal battle.
It’s a long movie.
A fog approaches.
Mysteries hiding within.
And monsters, perhaps.
Wand of the ancients,
Words that are older than time.
Look! It’s a rabbit!
A prison of glass,
Walls all around, but no door.
Hell is a fishbowl.
Calming blue waters.
A breeze across salty waves
Masks the stench of death.
Money, gold, jewels.
What value do riches hold
When your smile is gone?
Eyes so vivid green.
Seeing beauty everywhere,
Except over here.
Sins of the father.
A son seeking redemption.
The past never dies.
The meaning of life.
At last, he understood it.
It was a haiku.
He defied the gods,
And survived to tell the tale.
He defied the odds.
The blink of an eye,
A play of light and shadow,
And the world changes.
"Mama always said "Life was like a box of chocolates..."
The trifles, baubles, and bric-a-brac that strike our fancy
Imagining books and music in quirky and creative ways
A friendly horror podcast, a community, a blog, and so much more
A Writer's Journey
A Hopefully Formerly Depressed Human Vows To Practice Self-Approval
a 100-word story every day
ROBERT LAMBERT JONES III
A Poetic Wayfarer Writes