Eventide Melody

imaginarygarden get listed – July Imagined By

For this edition of get listed, see if you can bring the sounds of summer to the page – something missing, or maybe something just waiting to get noticed again. Please use at least 3 of these words (or reasonable variants): heat, bird, easy, fling, pass, sweat, corn, float, ice cream (that’s considered one), bright, cricket, dusk


Just at dusk, the heat turned down to bearable,
the bats come out of the attic and other dark places
darting, diving, in deranged flight chasing the skeeters,
gnats and moths, sating hunger in frenetic motion
and echolocation. Too high pitched, just a faint click,
and the drama goes on, to my ears, in almost silence.
In the far woods an owl whoos, another answers.
Mourning doves coo their melancholy song as a male
cardinal slashes the sky crying “Pretty, Pretty, Pretty.”
The easy sounds of summer comfort me like a lullaby.




Verandah Memories

Twiglets  A Cool Verandah

When I was growing up
I’d sit with Aunt Letitia
on the verandah late after
noons drinking lemonade,
eating gingersnap cookies,
watching the fireflies begin
their shy twinkle of love
sirens in the tall grass.
I miss those days with
Aunt Letitia but iced tea
and Oreos with you on the
front porch is pretty nice, too.



Languages of the Wind

Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Saturday’s Mix with Teresa
and imaginarygarden  The Tuesday Platform By Marian


The wind speaks in many tongues…
in the rustling of leaves
the roar of the hurricane
howl of a squall
the maelstrom of tornado
and the whisper of butterfly wings
stirring the air.

She whistles round the corners
she screeches through eaves
she moans down the chimney
she sings in the chimes
and chants in the reeds
with patois rich and holy
like a beseeching prayer.


Shadows in the Water

mindlovemiserys “It’s All in the Title”

A river of time
streams behind me
as I stand in this moment
watching the water
flowing toward me.
hen this moment is gone.
Soon I’ll be gone,
and you’ll be gone,
then we’ll just be
shadows of memory
wavering in the stream.




And Yet I Feel Guilt

imaginarygarden FASHION ME YOUR WORDS TO FOLD ~ Ergo Imagined By

Dead fly on the window ledge
nothing to show why
it suddenly dropped dead.
I throw it away
as though it were nothing,
as though its short life trifling.
It touches me not. No tears,
no lament, plunked into a wastebasket.
I go on with my life. 

I think of deaths
of people I’ve never seen
in cities I don’t know

in a hospital,a hospice bed,
a car crash,
old age, suicide.
I hope they were mourned,
remembered, missed.
But it touches me only in passing,
otherwise, I would die
under its weight
or at least go mad.


The Prompt
Today we are revisiting [or visiting]
Peanuts a syndicated daily and Sunday American comic strip written and illustrated by Charles M. Schulz, which ran from October 2, 1950, to February 13, 2000, continuing in reruns afterward…with philosophical, psychological, and sociological overtones… the characters’ interactions form a tangle of relationships.

Peruse the Peanuts cartoons shown [click for larger views], ponder them in a fresh new light, studying each character, until, you think you have found yourself in one of them, OR the nearest possibility of yourself, at the time of your reading here at Toads.






A Poem About Poetry

imaginarygarden Literary Excursions with ~ Metafiction


She’s a shoe string that won’t stay tied
dares you to double knot her, pull tight,
she’ll still slip loose like a boat and drift
the currents and tides of her fancies.
You can’t pin her down like a butterfly
in a frame, not even with golden pins
she’ll grin and wriggle away.

She is an enigma, a fairy tale, a fable
with a moral at the end. Truth, fiction,
fantasy and cold, hard fact. She’s words-
worth and a p(l)ath through the fields,
a pound of wilde, a frost that burns.
(See what I did there?) And now she’s donne…
till the next poem is written in the sand.



The Color of Mud

The Twiglets “The Color of Mud”

Image result for mudpies images

The color of mud pies,
like luscious chocolate
tarts dressed in nature’s
frills of daisy petals fanned,
Rose of Sharon crepe blooms,
violets and clover and fern’s
lacy curls presented to mother
with muddy hands.



Sweet Solitude

imaginarygarden The Tuesday Platform Imagined By

Image result for images of peace of mind

I didn’t choose solitude
solitude chose me.
slash, clash, smash
of the world bruised
my soul till I could not
hear the song of the lark,
the music of the wind,
the wisdom of the clouds,
the slow, steady pulse
of the earth’s heart
so I began to withdraw
to the subtle call of quiet.
She soothes my spirit with whispers,
calms with colors of luscious
marigold sun
turquoise skies
goose grey storms
and red roses, too.
he tosses the static…
the spark of strife away.
Even this room from which
I write is so quiet
I can hear a faint hum,
a strum of OM
Nothing distracts.
olitude chose me.



When Life Hands You a Lemon…Make Lemonade

mindlovemisery  prompt by Oloriel
“For this week, I will give you a list of random items or words that you should use to create a mini story. The words are: Glass, Darth Vader, napkin, cellphone, lighter, book, anger, trouble, mind.” (use in that order)


I gaze into the looking glass, ancient, smoky, dark as the heart of Darth Vader and with a napkin from yesterday’s anniversary party, I dab at mascara ringed eyes. The cellphone dings. A message from from my best friend, my ex-best friend I remind myself. “Please, answer my call. Talk to me,” she texts. “Let me explain.” I rummage in my purse for a cigarette and lighter and mute my phone.

How would she explain that kiss? He certainly hadn’t had any good excuse as he mumbled and stumbled through an awkward, unintelligible explanation. Just like a cheap, paperback book or maybe a trashy soap opera scene, I thought, trite, predictable – in a book but not real life. I’d cried, pitied myself, despaired, thought of suicide (that would show them!) Then anger took over. A red, torrid, blinding rage.

I’d have to go to some trouble to cover my tracks but my mind was made up. I Googled revenge. Poisons. Accidental deaths. Then, I filled out an eHarmony registration.



Rah, Rah, Sis Boom — Bah

TheTwiglets inside out


Their hair so perfectly flipped
movements choreographed
kicks high in the air, a hand stand
showing off blue bloomers
under the white and gold pleats
of a crisp cheerleader’s skirt.
I might as well wish for the moon
as out of reach as their perfection…

I sighed. I’ll always be the inside-out
sock on the nylon hose foot of life.