On My Way Home

A quick poem inspired by a Skazat Poetry Slam.

A perfect night,

Once threatening rain; no more.

Walking against the red,

A jaunt in my step.

Where are the fairies on the corner?

Their domain was once vast,

But now only vestiges remain.

Perhaps the cruel without imagination,

Tore them down.

Always a party here,

Lights and a whiff of cannabis.

Is it fair that ditch lilies are acceptable,

But wild weeds must be mown?

Now the fireflies come out,

Advertising phosphorescent sex,

While old women discuss doctors,

And broken bones.

Fading, already forgotten,

Will I remember this when I reach home?

.

A Group of Friends (3 min):

Writing prompt part 4 of 4.
Hera stood guard while the others:  Jeth, Miso, and Skutcha played behind her. She wanted so much to run and spin like they did, but it was her night to watch, so watch she did. She would protect her friends from the Unseelies, here in this place where the veil was thin. Laughing broke out behind her and she stole a glance back to see Miso had toppled over into a BarraBush and now all that could be seen of him were his legs. Smiling, she turned back to face the dark wall just in time to see a blur disappear behind the gnarled stump.

“Skutcha! Skutcha I see Unsee!”

She was afraid to take her eyes off the darkness, but Skutcha didn’t hear her over the laughing.

“Unsee, unsee!” Hera shrieked again as another blur peeled from the darkness and rose into the air.

Finally the laughter behind her faded and she heard Jeth’s voice.

“Hera you squeak? You squeakie?”