Father, future

(100-word flash fiction)

Mr.Krauss is bewildered. He had woken up in the morning sitting on the staircase handrail.

A gigantic version of his wife appears in the doorway.

The look and scream of horror is understandable. After all he had perfected the art of ‘keeping his woman in place’.

His son appears next, uncharacteristically bold, with a raised cricket bat.

Mr.Krauss roars his usual disapproval. Soft chirps issue forth.

Amazingly, he discovers his eyes can swivel independently as his daughter comes up from behind, whispering softly while trapping him in a shoebox.

“Don’t worry Daddy, the spell will last only a hundred years.”

~~~~~

Thank you Rochelle for choosing such a beautiful photo this week. Nature’s creations are so marvelous. I couldn’t help stare that the magnificent creature. Do you know what it is called?

This week Friday Fictioneers photo prompt is a thing of beauty.

PHOTO PROMPT © Shaktiki Sharma

 

The power of awe – tanka

~~~

What’s a poem but
the shell around the heart being
split open by awe

beauty comes out of hiding
and love does a little dance

~~~

For the Tuesday Platform at Imaginary Garden for Real Toads

Sensuous Sundays – Moon paeans

.

Did you know
that moonlight writes poems
on pages of grass

tales of anguish
paeans to the mundane
arias of joy

now you know why
the dawn finds the blades of grass
drenched in tears

~~~

Ode to a birdcall

…

A single call it was –
four fluid notes falling
lucid and luminous
into the silence of the valley.

Maybe the bird was declaring
the departure of daylight now
crowning the edges of leaves
in brilliant swansong.

Or maybe it was light itself
tinkling out a farewell,
a limpid promise of returning
on the wings of dawn.

The silence was somehow sweeter
as though the call after falling
had burst into a million pieces
of joy. And spread across the valley.

Into which sparrows had chirped
and other birds chattered and
the winds that chased each other
had seemed somewhat raucous.

Alas! The bird had flown,
to fill some other valley
with its luminous song.
Or just that light had died.

But even though the night
had crept up sombre with
its shroud of darkness and
promise of shady secrets,

I sat wrapt in rapture, lit
with joy, changed forever by
the touch of a beauty so
ephemeral, yet eternal.

~~~

~~~

For dVerse Poets Pub Microworld Poetry