The words stutter and stop
All I’d wanted to say goes with a pop
My mind blanks
My voice tanks
And then I grasp for anything worth saying
To fill the air that’s now silent
Before the awkwardness settles in
But the need to find something goes begging
And I fail in the long moment
To salvage the stalled situation

The words stutter and stop
My spirt and mood all drop
Why can’t I speak?
Why can’t I think?
I had a point to make just a minute ago
It was biting and worthwhile
At least I thought it was when it was spinning in my head
About truth and lies and what we really know
And walking that extra mile
To be better, expect better, not fall into the habit of being led

The words stutter and stop
Maybe my point was always a flop
Let’s go hide in the sand
That’s my kind of plan
We’ve become too polite for confrontation
Too timid to stand for a cause
Too busy in our own little world of five inch screens…
Or is it that we’re scared of the repercussions
If our view clashes with the social jaws
And we get ripped apart before we can even scream?

The words stutter and stop
Is it too late to start from the top?
Maybe if I do this over
My point will recover
But why should I even bother to try?
Does anyone truly care anymore?
Or are we just hunting likes and hearts and follows?
If I cared more I would likely cry…
And that truth shakes my core.
How can I expect more from others when my words are hollow?

The words stutter and stop.


Hundreds of lights glowed in rows along the hillside, the tidy street lamps of the tucked away neighborhoods. But, they didn’t look like lights or even starbursts in the pre-dawn darkness of my travels. They shone clearly as crosses. Crosses. Hundreds of them. Was it a sign? Was I on the wrong path? Was I on the right path? Was it just my tired eyes once again playing tricks on me?

It wouldn’t have been the first time.

As I drew nearer the crosses became clearer. Beacons of light burning in the night, burning away the darkness.

My breath stuck in my throat and my blood raced. Was I witnessing a miracle? Had sleep deprivation finally driven me crazy?

Perhaps either was likely. The road turned away from the hill-nestled neighborhood and the vision disappeared. Eventually my pulse slowed and I breathed normally again. Eventually the memory of those moments will fade away, returning to the darkness. Eventually even these words will be lost.

That’s as it should be.

The fleeting nature of things makes them more beautiful, from a tired vision of street lights turned crosses on a morning commute to a silly handful of words grasping at finding deeper meaning…

Image Credit: Christina Fofina

She dangled her delicately swinging legs over the precipice.  A thin plank of ancient wood, strung on both sides by equally ancient rope, and hanging from a branch of an even older oak tree were all that kept her suspended in her perch.  Everything below her was swallowed in a darkness ravenously craving to devour the whole world, but she held no fear of the long drop, the aching cold, the unknown depths, or the certainty of what waited for all her kind at the bottom.

She did not have to look down to see the creeping gloom of death inching closer to her with each passing moment.  She could hear its whispers caressing her ears and calling her home.  It spoke of freedom from pain and responsibility and guilt.  It spoke of promises to be fulfilled and happiness unending.  And she knew that none of its words were lies.  Death was regarded as many things but at the core, unwavering, it was and would always be the truth.

No, she did not look down.  No, she did not let the seduction of her future coax her into rushing to meet it.  Her gaze and focus were solely captivated by the beauty of the stars swirling far above her head.  Her flowing brown hair nestled against her shoulders and back as her chin titled up to take in a wider expanse of the heavens.  Each winking spot of light dancing in her hazel eyes held the potential for another life, another of her kind, waiting to be discovered, and waiting to be loved.  Each swath of glowing chaos painted behind the stars, illuminating the furthest recesses of the night sky, held the potential for thousands upon thousands more of those winking lights.

The stars and galaxies swirled dizzyingly and all she could do was sigh with glee and giggle.  Her wings flexed instinctively as her muscles twitched.  Rainbows, born of moonbeams, sprouted from the shimmering membranes and fell to confuse the darkness below.  She kicked her legs and the plank creaked into motion, slowly at first, and then faster and faster until her tiny frame was a blur of sparkles spanning the full breadth of the swing’s reach.

Pumping her legs one final time she rushed forward and released her grip on the rope.  Her body sailed over the edge and she closed her eyes as the air held her in its loving embrace.  It was calm, and peaceful, and a freedom she had never truly known.

She did not fear death.  She feared loneliness.

Opening her eyes she looked to the stars again and began to flap her tiny wings.  She didn’t know how far she could make it before her strength gave out and she fell, but that didn’t matter.  Falling was inevitable.  But, before then, she had to see how far she could get.  She had to try and find someone else like her.

aurora borealis

The colors danced through the night,
Streaks of purple, blue, green, red,
They twisted and spiraled, flared and faded,
From horizon to horizon they cast their light,
Long after the stars went to bed.

If ever there was a selcouth sight,
These heavenly expressions in my head,
These playful colors surely are rated,
As they show off their marvelously strange might,
And show me the path I could have led.

For now I’m alone in my fright,
Lost in the shadows of words left unsaid,
From my future I’ve been gated,
No longer certain of wrong or right,
No longer certain if I’m alive or dead.

And still, those strangely marvelous lights dance on…


So gather ’round my friends for it’s time again for another Queen Creative:

forthepromptless, prompts for the promptless,
Wednesday, September 4th, 2013

Selcouth is an adjective that refers to the strangely marvelous and marvelously strange.

Suggested Prompts:

  • Tell us a story with a selcouth element to it.
  • Write a poem using the word selcouth.
  • Share a picture that means selcouth to you.
  • Introduce us to a selcouth person, concept, story, or song.
  • … or make up your own related prompt!


Fireworks in the sky glaring, the music blaring, the dogs grilling, cigars for smoking, and the beers freely flowing are nice.  But it’s the flag waving that truly means we are still free.


This 33 word patriotic piece was written in response to today’s Trifextra “free-write.”

You see what I did there?  A free-write about being free.  Nice.