Poetry Police

100 words about writing bad poetry
photo by Negative Space

‘Step away from the poetry, madam.’

Busted – should have known they’re looking for me for serious crimes against poetry. I finish my line before I face them. Defiantly.

‘Officers, please have a seat. If you behave yourselves, I might offer you a treat.’

‘Enough with the terrible rhymes, you vandal.’

One tries to manhandle me away from my desk.

‘You know what I’ll do? I’ll write what I want. My lines may not scan as well as they should, but I’m gonna keep at it. Poetry’s here for good. How else will I improve?’

‘Good point,’ they say. ‘We approve.’


No Way Home

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cloud‘No slowing down.’

‘It’s too hot, Willow. I need a break.’

Clouds offer moments of shade not long enough to make a difference. But it’s not what worries Phoebe. She doesn’t know how far they’ve come. How could she lose the map? It was their only guide home. Not knowing where they are makes her uneasy. She keeps track of landmarks that might make good breadcrumbs, but they will take them only as far as the spot where she noticed she’d lost the map.

Willow marches on, heading for those trees in the distance.

Willow doesn’t know.

Willow wouldn’t care.