In fifty words or less give us a Thanksgiving poem or flash.

 See submission page.

by Jeanette Cheezum

While I taste each morsel, and laugh with family and friends.
I am so thankful my ancestors braved an old creaky ship, and
rough seas to fulfill their dreams of America.

I hope I’ve made them proud.

by Sandy Patton

endless football games
mashed potatoes, buttered rolls,
turkey and stuffing,
gravy and pies stick to thighs
thank God for stretch pants

My First Thanksgiving
by Laura Zucca-Scott

I was a foreign student
Invited in a new home
I sat at the kids’ table
So hungry I could barely wait

The cold on the farm
So odd, the food so good
I was afraid of feeling that happy
Embraced by strangers’ love


Scare us

  • 2012-08-26

In fifty words or less, give us your spooky tales of Halloween. Scare us. You know you want to. See submission page.


By Jeanette Cheezum

The first year Shelly was allowed to go trick or treating alone; she became frightened at every sound. The trees looked like they were reaching for her. The clouds taunted her with large gray hips. Children passing her had large eyes and funny lips.

She told herself she could do this, but once she saw the Carey’s old house, Shelly froze. A red creature stood tall on the porch, with fire in his eyes. A very eery sound hissed all around him.

It beckoned her to come near with fingers like red spikes.

Shelly backed away preparing to run when she stumbled and fell.

The eery sounds became louder and louder. So did her heartbeat.

The red thing moved toward the porch steps. With arms pointing toward the dark gray clouds.

Stella scrambled to her feet and ran screaming down the street.

Billy Carey laughed as loud as thunder and took his position back on the front porch.


By Laura Zucca-Scott

I am not afraid
Of your malevolent glare
Or the lonely steps in the darkest night

If you knew me you would know
That I don’t run
And I don’t blink

But the light is always on
When I try to catch some sleep
And I silently scream for the sun to rise


By Sandy Patton

She lived at Ocean View Amusement Park,
and in my childhood nightmares.

A grotesque woman of mammoth proportion
made of wood, nonetheless all too real for a
child with an overactive imagination.

A clown caricature of a face painted
bright white, black eyes garishly rimmed
in blue, overdone red lips set in a perpetual,
sinister smirk.

Dressed in loud, carnival colors, she swayed
side-to-side, waving mechanically, all the while
cackling and shrieking like a wild banshee.

Ironically, this monstrous mannequin stood
at the entrance to The Tunnel Of Fun beckoning
young lovers eager for an intimate moment,
and kids ready for a new adventure,
to come aboard the small boat, to take a trip
through the dark and dank caverns of doom.

And those chilling images haunt me still,
especially on Halloween.

Four word story 

by Janet Chezem Coffey Hollinger

Hillary Clinton wins election.

My House is haunted

by Mark Carey

My house is haunted. I woke-up cold, shivering. Going for coffee in the kitchen smoke swirled from my breath. The cupboard door was stuck, the knob rattled and frosted at my touch. My thermostat read 78*. From there, I saw my frozen body still in bed. My house is haunted…


Impulses: Love, Laughter, Lies and Unique Purchases.

In fifty words or less tell us your impulses. See submission page.


Love, Laughter, Lies and Unique Purchases

By Jeanette Cheezum

A little bit of heaven lies in the Caribbean
called Labadee. Filled with foliage, and
sandy paths to its proud beaches.

Tourists flock to unwind and partake of
cookouts and cocktails. Laughs
abundant. Love displayed.

Nestled to one popular side, it displays
a wealth of local crafts, or so they
say. Prices of these treasures are meant
to be affordable, if not you can negotiate
a better price in hopes you’ll want two
or maybe three.

Tummies, hands and hearts are filled
with fond memories of a playful
day. Locals prepare for the next
group of eager customers that only
wanted to escape from the struggles
of our modern day problems.

Laughter and Chaos

By Laura Zucca-Scott

As we ran around looking at the souvenirs
Orderly chaos stunningly inebriating
We laughed so hard
Colors pouring on us

We could not stop to buy
Did not have money anyway
But we could run
Faster than our troubles

There were those who said we were not
Good enough
Or strong enough
Or, yes, even fast enough

We ran from lives of boredom
And conformity
From lives of uncaring smiles
And exclusion

So we laughed
Full of mirth
Because tomorrow

Would still come

The Colors of You
By Bobbie Troy

I bought something blue
for your eyes
something pink
for your skin
something brown
for the earth you walk
something green
to match your earrings
something yellow
for your happiness
something red
for your sexiness
but I could not find
the color of love
not in the market
not today


Five Senses

Five Senses


By Sandy Patton

Elegantly, she sweeps in; sun-kissed skin,
barely-there shorts showcase long, tan legs.
Remarkable eyes of sea-green
turn deep emerald in anger,
flash wild as stormy skies.
I know the curve of
her cheek by heart.
smile leaves
I stare,
as always, by
full, pastel pink lips.
A mouth made for pleasure,
both passionate and fickle.
From whispered vows of forever
to careless lies, utter betrayal.
My ageless, timeless, divine mystery.

See, Touch, Taste and Hear.

By Jeanette Cheezum

See me, tell me, then
reach out and touch.

Sip some wine and
hear my wishes to
love forever.


By Bobbie Troy

as we held hands

and walked to the beach

your hair smelled

like the morning dew

and I wondered

if I would miss that scent

when you returned

to the east coast

and your other life

Bobbie Troy maintains her sanity and perspective on life by writing flash fiction, poetry, and original fairy tales with a 21st century twist. Her work appears online and print: Concise Delight Magazine of Short Poetry, Issue 1; Vox Poetica website and anthologies; SPARK, an art and writing project; Haiku Ramblings; Caper Literary Journal; Leaf Garden Press; the Journal of Liberal Arts and Education; Referential Magazine; Yes, Poetry; Cavalcade of Stars; The Journal of Microliterature. Her poem, Dear Diane, was nominated for a 2010 Pushcart Prize ( Her fairy-tale play, Sasha and the Tree of Sorrows, was produced in March 2011.


By Sandy Patton

Bold sunbeams stroke us, draw us from our room.

Velvet sand caresses winter toes,

sun’s rays touch and tease pale shoulders.

Skin-to-skin at ocean’s edge,

cold water shocks hot flesh,

shivering delight.

Silky sea breeze,

rum-laced kiss,

drunk on


Sandy Patton, a Norfolk, Virginia native, now resides in Virginia Beach with husband, Charlie, and two bossy, outspoken felines. She is a member of Hampton Roads Writers, Poetry Society of Virginia, and Virginia Beach Writers, a weekly critique group. She enjoys reading at local Open MICS.

Her poetry has appeared in print in Stories from the Chapel, and in online publications such as,, a Handful of Stones and . She won First Place award for Poetry at the Hampton Roads Writers Conference 2013.

4 Responses to Prompts

  1. Lynn Arroyo says:

    Bobbi Troy…2 beautiful poems!

  2. I agree, lovely poems of the senses including the marketplace….

  3. vision791 says:

    Thanks, for stopping by, Judith.

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