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Another 10 word micropoem challenge: write a poem that begins with the word TAIL and ends with the word TALE. Or the other way around! Tag me, if you wish! #ATailTale
Written by CodedCantation in portal Micropoetry

Heads or Tales

Tale of Fail

I bet heads

Whoops!

Landed on Tail

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Another 10 word micropoem challenge: write a poem that begins with the word TAIL and ends with the word TALE. Or the other way around! Tag me, if you wish! #ATailTale
Written by CodedCantation in portal Micropoetry
Heads or Tales
Tale of Fail
I bet heads
Whoops!
Landed on Tail
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Written by Lindsey

Sad Cynical Youth

Cynicism soaks in pools of genes

In the swamps of woken hearts unclean.

It festers as smoke in the generation’s lungs

and blossoms ugly as truth tears that rose screen.

They expected to sell us a smile.

and neglected to tell us stories so vile.

By the way,

we atomically bombed our own chemical composition.

Until we were old enough to understand rationale,

and not yet old enough to fathom that sometimes it’s just a conscience cleared.

Those better blinds were just bitter minds backtracking

to a place they could face but it’s safe to say our species is slacking.

Egos never quenched became tanks, became trenches.

While we’re here on park benches or crouched behind white picket fences

we make opaque defences so we can conceal tensions.

In the same day they go on with their day jobs.

They’re all recycling the same jokes from yesterday

and monotony sets in their flesh and their movements.

And they complain about the lives they’re “detained” in

they claim big disdain in somebody’s campaign

‘cause they want a big voice but they want it in vain.

They’re not saying anything.

when they’re hollering about police and politicians

when they’re typing out their disappointments based on blind suspicions

to a couple thousand pixels that will tell them congratulations on the opinions.

They offer no proposals.

They’ll sell you single-use truths along with the blues

Patience languished, compassion in the trash and

for the people they complacently ignore they share a habitat with.

they’ve been mean and they’ve earned reprimand.

except you ignore the brilliance they’ve collectively summoned

I can’t call you a liar, you just miscalculate their worth.

they buy rounds for each other in smokey old bars

they pick up hitchhikers in their headed-west cars

and mend each other’s scars with their six string guitars

they’ve looked at their own chemical composition and developed vaccines,

they’ve broken menacing walls and they’ve rebuilt houses

they love one another, their strangers, their spouses.

They are us.

Don’t deny them their worth, when they’ve delivered before

don’t forget that they’re precious, don’t nullify your initial adoration

they’re not just defaulting to war or settling scores

they’ve come a long way from amino to man

and if you think they’re more plague than plan

or they’re anything less than brilliant

recalculate the masses.

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Written by Lindsey
Sad Cynical Youth

Cynicism soaks in pools of genes
In the swamps of woken hearts unclean.
It festers as smoke in the generation’s lungs
and blossoms ugly as truth tears that rose screen.
They expected to sell us a smile.
and neglected to tell us stories so vile.
By the way,
we atomically bombed our own chemical composition.
Until we were old enough to understand rationale,
and not yet old enough to fathom that sometimes it’s just a conscience cleared.
Those better blinds were just bitter minds backtracking
to a place they could face but it’s safe to say our species is slacking.
Egos never quenched became tanks, became trenches.
While we’re here on park benches or crouched behind white picket fences
we make opaque defences so we can conceal tensions.
In the same day they go on with their day jobs.
They’re all recycling the same jokes from yesterday
and monotony sets in their flesh and their movements.
And they complain about the lives they’re “detained” in
they claim big disdain in somebody’s campaign
‘cause they want a big voice but they want it in vain.
They’re not saying anything.
when they’re hollering about police and politicians
when they’re typing out their disappointments based on blind suspicions
to a couple thousand pixels that will tell them congratulations on the opinions.
They offer no proposals.
They’ll sell you single-use truths along with the blues
Patience languished, compassion in the trash and
for the people they complacently ignore they share a habitat with.
they’ve been mean and they’ve earned reprimand.
except you ignore the brilliance they’ve collectively summoned
I can’t call you a liar, you just miscalculate their worth.
they buy rounds for each other in smokey old bars
they pick up hitchhikers in their headed-west cars
and mend each other’s scars with their six string guitars
they’ve looked at their own chemical composition and developed vaccines,
they’ve broken menacing walls and they’ve rebuilt houses
they love one another, their strangers, their spouses.
They are us.
Don’t deny them their worth, when they’ve delivered before
don’t forget that they’re precious, don’t nullify your initial adoration
they’re not just defaulting to war or settling scores
they’ve come a long way from amino to man
and if you think they’re more plague than plan
or they’re anything less than brilliant
recalculate the masses.
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I'm enamored of short-form writing - micropoetry, flash fiction, etc. For this challenge, write an ultrashort story (150 words or fewer). It must have a beginning, a middle, and an end. I will do one, too. Tag me @ruffmiriam
Written by AlexGranger in portal Flash Fiction

A Dark and Stormy Night

It was a dark and stormy night. Perhaps it would be cliche had it not been the evening of my wedding. All the guests, including dear Rodger and I, were trapped in the reception hall. It was 10 pm and lightning threatened to strike at the tall windows. The children were crying, the adults were complaining, and I was weeping. A wedding day ruined. Rodger told me not to cry, soothing my emotions. He told me he would go outside with a few others to see if they could find some sort of emergency generator or something and get the power back on. The men left, their wives and girlfriends coming with. I stayed. They did not return. Lightning illuminated the glares of the single women who turned to me after they dismembered the girl that had caught the bouquet. If only I had thrown it differently. 

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I'm enamored of short-form writing - micropoetry, flash fiction, etc. For this challenge, write an ultrashort story (150 words or fewer). It must have a beginning, a middle, and an end. I will do one, too. Tag me @ruffmiriam
Written by AlexGranger in portal Flash Fiction
A Dark and Stormy Night
It was a dark and stormy night. Perhaps it would be cliche had it not been the evening of my wedding. All the guests, including dear Rodger and I, were trapped in the reception hall. It was 10 pm and lightning threatened to strike at the tall windows. The children were crying, the adults were complaining, and I was weeping. A wedding day ruined. Rodger told me not to cry, soothing my emotions. He told me he would go outside with a few others to see if they could find some sort of emergency generator or something and get the power back on. The men left, their wives and girlfriends coming with. I stayed. They did not return. Lightning illuminated the glares of the single women who turned to me after they dismembered the girl that had caught the bouquet. If only I had thrown it differently. 
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Written by ravensayhan

You or Me

I might slaughter you,

Or,

You might tame me.

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Written by ravensayhan
You or Me
I might slaughter you,
Or,
You might tame me.
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Written by insPiraTion in portal Philosophy

What is the end? You see, the beginning is overrated. We all know that story. We lived it. But the ending, that's where the intrigue is. That's the road that no one ever returned from. The question is, what is the end? Is there an end after this one? Have we already lived a million ends without thinking long enough to realize it? Personally, I think there are ends everywhere, frayed ends that we constantly move past, jumping from finale to finale, but then there is the one big capital E End. That's what is important. Will there be nothing? Can there ever really be nothing, or is nothing part of something? Or is the end where it really begins? Do we live some grey half life with closed eyes, a fetus unaware of the coming heat? If so, why do we fear that? I always figured it's the uncertainty. Yes, there could be something better, but there could also be nothing or hell. If we can live with this life, why risk it? The questions could last for an eternity without conclusion so we move past them, push them aside. It's easier to breathe when you don't have to worry about what comes next. Maybe the only path to the answer is to forget the question, the only truth buried in ignorance.

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Written by insPiraTion in portal Philosophy
What is the end? You see, the beginning is overrated. We all know that story. We lived it. But the ending, that's where the intrigue is. That's the road that no one ever returned from. The question is, what is the end? Is there an end after this one? Have we already lived a million ends without thinking long enough to realize it? Personally, I think there are ends everywhere, frayed ends that we constantly move past, jumping from finale to finale, but then there is the one big capital E End. That's what is important. Will there be nothing? Can there ever really be nothing, or is nothing part of something? Or is the end where it really begins? Do we live some grey half life with closed eyes, a fetus unaware of the coming heat? If so, why do we fear that? I always figured it's the uncertainty. Yes, there could be something better, but there could also be nothing or hell. If we can live with this life, why risk it? The questions could last for an eternity without conclusion so we move past them, push them aside. It's easier to breathe when you don't have to worry about what comes next. Maybe the only path to the answer is to forget the question, the only truth buried in ignorance.

#philosophy  #spirituality  #opinion 
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We are a literary agency seeking fresh talent. In 200 words or more, demonstrate your writing talent. We will be in touch with any and all promising participants throughout the rest of this quarter.
Written by ThomasBradley in portal Publishing

Out of Retirement

Prologue

Ignatius Ching sighed for the fifth time, he couldn't understand what the problem was. "Janet, why are you making such a monstrous deal of this situation?" He asked.

"Well sir, she's... she's the wrong sort." The mousy woman squeaked out.

"In the 400 years you've worked in the Hall of Prophecies, have you ever known the prophecies being wrong?" He chided.

"Well, no! She's just... different." Janet cried.

"Different how?"

"Well, we usually have a type sir. Everyone who has ever been prophecied has been young, strong, and better suited for saving the world. She's none of those things. She's old! She's on medication and can't go more than for steps without a cane. Are you sure?" She rushed to explain.

"Who wrote the prophecy?" He questioned gently.

"You did sir. Says so right here. I. Ching, Oracle." She pointed to the bottom of the scroll.

"Now, does that tell you anything of my certainty? Put the prophecy through Janet. The next time you question a prophecy, keep your questions to yourself and do your job. If you can't perform even this simple task, I'll have no choice but to reassign you to a less favorable position."

"Yes sir. I'm sorry. I'll put this through, express like." She huffed.

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We are a literary agency seeking fresh talent. In 200 words or more, demonstrate your writing talent. We will be in touch with any and all promising participants throughout the rest of this quarter.
Written by ThomasBradley in portal Publishing
Out of Retirement
Prologue
Ignatius Ching sighed for the fifth time, he couldn't understand what the problem was. "Janet, why are you making such a monstrous deal of this situation?" He asked.
"Well sir, she's... she's the wrong sort." The mousy woman squeaked out.
"In the 400 years you've worked in the Hall of Prophecies, have you ever known the prophecies being wrong?" He chided.
"Well, no! She's just... different." Janet cried.
"Different how?"
"Well, we usually have a type sir. Everyone who has ever been prophecied has been young, strong, and better suited for saving the world. She's none of those things. She's old! She's on medication and can't go more than for steps without a cane. Are you sure?" She rushed to explain.
"Who wrote the prophecy?" He questioned gently.
"You did sir. Says so right here. I. Ching, Oracle." She pointed to the bottom of the scroll.
"Now, does that tell you anything of my certainty? Put the prophecy through Janet. The next time you question a prophecy, keep your questions to yourself and do your job. If you can't perform even this simple task, I'll have no choice but to reassign you to a less favorable position."
"Yes sir. I'm sorry. I'll put this through, express like." She huffed.
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Write a story or poem with a minimum of 10 old english words(preferably rarely used). :) #oldenglish
Written by CodedCantation

Ye Olde Freedom

I want to be free, but they tell me to hither here and thither there. The elders are considered wizened, but to me they are shriveled. I am told to hunt for scaup, or buy some pannikins. I go out and once I have reached the ness, I am free, to an extent. I always end up returning to these hags. I've been told that they are great soothsayers and can read palms, but to me their existence is absolute trumpery. If they are legends, then I am the stalwart Beowulf. I shall forswear these banshees' commands. I cachinnate, and just like that, I find myself in a dray that is going to the city. I am free... for now.

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Write a story or poem with a minimum of 10 old english words(preferably rarely used). :) #oldenglish
Written by CodedCantation
Ye Olde Freedom
I want to be free, but they tell me to hither here and thither there. The elders are considered wizened, but to me they are shriveled. I am told to hunt for scaup, or buy some pannikins. I go out and once I have reached the ness, I am free, to an extent. I always end up returning to these hags. I've been told that they are great soothsayers and can read palms, but to me their existence is absolute trumpery. If they are legends, then I am the stalwart Beowulf. I shall forswear these banshees' commands. I cachinnate, and just like that, I find myself in a dray that is going to the city. I am free... for now.
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Written by Sunchaser

Ponder

I think I need to walk

Perhaps a windy trail

For although my skin is pink

my soul is feeling pail

To accept an ugly truth

with a tidy sum of grief,

I think I'll "steel" a little time

for me.......I'll be a thief

There is a friend who's always been

different from the rest

and kinda thought of all his friends

I may have been his best...

The things we did while growing up

still make me laugh at times

The risks we took,the fun we had,

Even some petty crimes

But one thing that has not changed

Is who he is to me...

and it's considerably uncomfortable

that find he feels differently...

I suppose I was presumptuous

to just assume my place

and now a little shame has come

to brighten up my face.

Perhaps I should start a list

and examine where I've failed

Maybe I'll discover

where our friendship was derailed

I suppose I could write his list too

Filling one page after another

But it never mattered how bad he failed

He was always my brother

I see there's no betrayal

or unkindness on his part

Just a great misunderstanding

in an older brother's heart

I can't hide from this struggle

My confidence is gone

Not sure what I'm supposed to do,

show up and carry on?

Ok sure it was odd at times

Often less than cool

But this my brother is the first time,

I truly feel like a fool.

Still ...... I will support you

as you have your special day

but when you utter those happy words

I'm going to quietly slip away

I won't share in the laughter

I'm not one to pretend

but just the social niceties

So no one I'll offend

Then I think I'll find that hike

and walk that twisty trail

Cause though my skin is pink

My soul feels awfully pail.

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Written by Sunchaser
Ponder
I think I need to walk
Perhaps a windy trail
For although my skin is pink
my soul is feeling pail
To accept an ugly truth
with a tidy sum of grief,
I think I'll "steel" a little time
for me.......I'll be a thief

There is a friend who's always been
different from the rest
and kinda thought of all his friends
I may have been his best...
The things we did while growing up
still make me laugh at times
The risks we took,the fun we had,
Even some petty crimes

But one thing that has not changed
Is who he is to me...
and it's considerably uncomfortable
that find he feels differently...
I suppose I was presumptuous
to just assume my place
and now a little shame has come
to brighten up my face.

Perhaps I should start a list
and examine where I've failed
Maybe I'll discover
where our friendship was derailed
I suppose I could write his list too
Filling one page after another
But it never mattered how bad he failed
He was always my brother

I see there's no betrayal
or unkindness on his part
Just a great misunderstanding
in an older brother's heart
I can't hide from this struggle
My confidence is gone
Not sure what I'm supposed to do,
show up and carry on?

Ok sure it was odd at times
Often less than cool
But this my brother is the first time,
I truly feel like a fool.
Still ...... I will support you
as you have your special day
but when you utter those happy words
I'm going to quietly slip away

I won't share in the laughter
I'm not one to pretend
but just the social niceties
So no one I'll offend
Then I think I'll find that hike
and walk that twisty trail
Cause though my skin is pink
My soul feels awfully pail.
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We are a literary agency seeking fresh talent. In 200 words or more, demonstrate your writing talent. We will be in touch with any and all promising participants throughout the rest of this quarter.
Written by chaseman777 in portal Publishing

iApologize

From: Eli_the_Ox@me.com

To: Ragamuffin_Al@me.com

Subject: Us

Al, I’m going to save you the trouble of having to read over a hundred lines of apologies from me and get to the point. I’ve loved you for over four years and, even though I pretty much destroyed any semblance of a relationship we had, I refuse to give up on myself and you. I know that I don’t deserve you, and you deserve someone better than me, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love you anymore. It would be impossible for me to stop loving you. Which means I’m going to keep pursuing you, keep chasing you, keep trying to deserve your love again – I’ll never give up. Wherever you are, I want to be there. I know that sounds like I’m your new stalker, but regardless, I’m just trying to tell you that I love you, and I’ll do anything or sacrifice everything to be with you. I love you – I can’t say it enough – I LOVE YOU.

I don’t want to presume that you’ll even forgive me, but still, I will wait here until you do.

Sincerely and always yours,

Eli

From: Ragamuffin_Al@me.com

To: Eli_the_Ox@me.com

Subject: Re: Us

Eli, If I could take it back, I would have never said “Hi” to you that first day of high school. If I could take it back, I would have never kissed you back or told you that I loved you.

These are lies, Eli. I love you, and I don’t regret anything I’ve said or done regarding you (including punching you). I do wish you hadn’t have hurt me. Things would be so much easier. But you did hurt me. I’m a forgiving person, and I don’t believe in the forgive but not forget sentiment, but that doesn’t mean my wounds don’t need time to heal. What happens when they do heal? Do I just allow you back into my life?

I don’t know yet. We’ll just have to see when we get there.

From: Eli_the_Ox@me.com

To: Ragamuffin_Al@me.com

Subject: Re: Re: Us

I’ll take it.

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We are a literary agency seeking fresh talent. In 200 words or more, demonstrate your writing talent. We will be in touch with any and all promising participants throughout the rest of this quarter.
Written by chaseman777 in portal Publishing
iApologize
From: Eli_the_Ox@me.com
To: Ragamuffin_Al@me.com
Subject: Us

Al, I’m going to save you the trouble of having to read over a hundred lines of apologies from me and get to the point. I’ve loved you for over four years and, even though I pretty much destroyed any semblance of a relationship we had, I refuse to give up on myself and you. I know that I don’t deserve you, and you deserve someone better than me, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love you anymore. It would be impossible for me to stop loving you. Which means I’m going to keep pursuing you, keep chasing you, keep trying to deserve your love again – I’ll never give up. Wherever you are, I want to be there. I know that sounds like I’m your new stalker, but regardless, I’m just trying to tell you that I love you, and I’ll do anything or sacrifice everything to be with you. I love you – I can’t say it enough – I LOVE YOU.
I don’t want to presume that you’ll even forgive me, but still, I will wait here until you do.
Sincerely and always yours,
Eli

From: Ragamuffin_Al@me.com
To: Eli_the_Ox@me.com
Subject: Re: Us

Eli, If I could take it back, I would have never said “Hi” to you that first day of high school. If I could take it back, I would have never kissed you back or told you that I loved you.
These are lies, Eli. I love you, and I don’t regret anything I’ve said or done regarding you (including punching you). I do wish you hadn’t have hurt me. Things would be so much easier. But you did hurt me. I’m a forgiving person, and I don’t believe in the forgive but not forget sentiment, but that doesn’t mean my wounds don’t need time to heal. What happens when they do heal? Do I just allow you back into my life?
I don’t know yet. We’ll just have to see when we get there.

From: Eli_the_Ox@me.com
To: Ragamuffin_Al@me.com
Subject: Re: Re: Us

I’ll take it.
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Fun facts are always awesome, aren't they? Write about 5 different interesting facts that you know about any subject. Tag me too. I want to learn what you know.
Written by umop

Pointless facts for thought.

Did you know? The scientific word for picking your nose is... Rhinotillexomania.

Did you know?

In the 19th century (1800s) Arsenic was used in green food colouring, in cake icing for example.

Did you know?

After reactor 4 exploded in Chernobyl 1986, over 4 million sheep in Wales, North Ireland, Scotland and Northern England had their movement restricted due to Ceasium-137, these restrictions remained in some areas until 2012.

Did you know?

In WW1 British horse casualties amounted to over 480,000 by the end of the war.

Did you know?

Minutiae is defined as - The small, precise, or trivial details of something:Eg - The minutiae of every day office work.

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Fun facts are always awesome, aren't they? Write about 5 different interesting facts that you know about any subject. Tag me too. I want to learn what you know.
Written by umop
Pointless facts for thought.
Did you know? The scientific word for picking your nose is... Rhinotillexomania.


Did you know?

In the 19th century (1800s) Arsenic was used in green food colouring, in cake icing for example.

Did you know?
After reactor 4 exploded in Chernobyl 1986, over 4 million sheep in Wales, North Ireland, Scotland and Northern England had their movement restricted due to Ceasium-137, these restrictions remained in some areas until 2012.

Did you know?
In WW1 British horse casualties amounted to over 480,000 by the end of the war.

Did you know?
Minutiae is defined as - The small, precise, or trivial details of something:Eg - The minutiae of every day office work.
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