• Paradise Lost by Limor Kay

    Plucked from the exit pod on its limb

    waxy and firm, youthful colour to its darker stem

    Firm, with no scent to hint the allure of taste

    Unripe, one woman picks a fruit […]

  • She had one last chance to get him and Cilla knew exactly what to do. She knew what made that weasel tick. A year filled with endless nights spent arguing with him had shown her exactly who he was. Her plan was […]

    • Revenge is a dish best served cold! Nice story.

    • A lot of effort for a fleeting moment of revenge, but was it worth it?

      I enjoyed your writing style and the story flowed very smoothly to the conclusion.

      Thanks for sharing.

  • I run my fingers over the ridges of its cold spine,

    the broken neck swings limply with each of my violent prods.

    And as the lightbulb flickers, gasping to its death with each severed wire –

    the two of us are […]

    • Wow. Someone can make a poem about a dangling desk light and make it sound magical. What a great job.

    • I 2nd Shae comment.
      Fantastic imagery- that poor lamp bore the brunt of some serious anger.

      Loved how you weave together imagery of something dead ,skeletal to that of the inanimate lamp – so good!

      Well Done!

    • Hello Limor,
      I enjoyed reading your poem over and over. It has a lot of images and depth of meaning. For instance: ‘the dancing shapes flung by the spikey dream snatchers’. Great writing.

    • Excellent imagery, Limor. The repeating line is so potent. Powerful writing. Well done.

  • Nora watched the swollen reflection of Dan Bishop in her shiny kettle.

    She poured the boiling water steadily into the delicate China teapot and lifted the glass coffee pot from its stand.

    “Sugar in your coffee M […]

    • I had a feeling right at the opening of this that someone was going to get poisoned. I don’t know why because I didn’t know weed can mess you up like that. Maybe it’s because you were really good at showing the relationship between the caregivers and the greedy kids that i knew someone was careening toward something bad. Good showing, you tossed some good, active verbs and adjectives. Nice work!

    • The moral of the story is don’t mess with Nora! You drew the family relationship with the caregiver very nicely, using wonderful economy of words – very important when we have constrained word counts with the prompt! You kept the story moving and kept us wondering what was going to happen next. And now we are left wondering exactly what IS going to happen to the parents, helpless in their beds with those machines keeping them alive… I enjoyed your voice and the piece overall. Well done!

    • Intriguing! There’s more to this story to come I feel – despite you saying it is the last of a three-part story.

      I went back and found the others, and I certainly want to know what happens next.

      Thanks for sharing.

  • Amaryllis, the traffic light with its drooping scarlet flower up top its hardy green stem.

    ‘New Year = new year’ a voice on the telly drifts down the hall like a bubble of sense.

    Orange pomander swings from the […]

    • Hi Limor,
      An interesting piece! What portends? A festive season, yet, foreboding runs deep. Yet, this line speaks to some contradiction “Had you forgiven me and come, it would have been exhilarating but now.” Very nice rendering of the prompt!!

    • Kim replied 3 months ago

      This is an interesting read. There is a whole backstory of regret that intrigues and speaks to some fallout between lovers?
      I had to look up Hogmanay and now realize the significence that time has passed and the planned celebrations never took place.
      And I’ve also never heard of pamander balls but I definitely want to make some now!
      A great thought-provoking read ,and I want to know what went wrong btwn these 2 people!

    • Hello Limor,
      I like this poem very much despite its depressing interpretation of the jolly festive season. Well done. My favourite line is the first – using an amaryllis as a metaphor for traffic lights. So good.

    • Hi, Limor
      Interesting read and we all learned some new words. Keep up the good work.
      Wanda Lovan

    • Hi Limor,
      I love the use of colour in this poem. The vibrant colours contradicting the sombre tone, maybe making the loneliness stand out more.

  • A thorn pierced the webspace of Nora’s right hand as she leaned heavily onto the doorknob in the entrance hall of the Bishops home.

    “Damn it!” Her voice was crystal clear through the thin door. […]

    • Now I want to read Part 1 and 3 when you write it. There’s a lot of deception going on here. In the beginning or your story, I got confused as to whether Nora was the caregiver or Mrs. Bishop. I like how shrewd the caregiver is., and your descriptions of Mrs. Bishop are great. Nice work.

    • Great read. I particularly like the line “stepped around her like she was a landmine.” Just a little thing – I would spell waisted as wasted but that could just be me. Brilliant and enjoyable, bring on part 3.

  • Thanks for your comments Jane. There is so much we will never know and I find it fascinating.

  • You are onto me…

  • Hi Teresa!
    Thank you for stopping by to read my tale. The little parts of Nora’s character shine just enough for the reader to realise that she isn’t a push over or a fool. I can only imagine what she will get up to once she gets wind of what that rotten, greedy son of the Bishop’s has in mind…
    Typo is culture specific, yes.

  • HoneyM, you always make me laugh when I read your reviews. I keep pulling my collection of stray rabbits (characters) out of this giant magician’s hat and you keep looking at them like its the first one you have ever seen! Don’t you agree that the world is a better place with Nora in it?

  • Thanks Sunshine! I love the underdog… with Nora, there are no rules.

  • Thank you for stopping by, Sue!

  • Thank you NetaQ. Too sad and I am sure a legacy of heartbroken memories for the Grimaldi’s.

  • Look beyond the rim indeed! You have used a beautiful take on the prompt.
    As mothers, we make the bowl much too comforting and sturdy for them to even want to look out over the rim.
    I felt in your first verse, ‘Knowing too little about the world’ seems to be more of a statement for the end of that stanza and not necessary for it to be another…[Read more]

  • Hi Jane
    The repetition of the first and last line in your final stanza is so powerful and drives the whole devastation to its peak.
    The weight of, ‘I remember to breathe’ crushed me at the very start. Interesting how when a loved one leaves it can appear to be the same as a the processes one goes through in the death of a loved one.
    Grief and…[Read more]

  • Hi Sue!
    I laughed out loud with the line:
    ‘The sight of the kitty bowl
    with a solitary cat biscuit at the side’
    It brought back hidden memories of our long-since-gone, beloved family dog, scoffing up the cat biscuits!
    There is nothing sweeter than the privilege of having pets of your own.
    Thank you for this gentle reminder.

  • Starkness and loneliness are deep feelings one experiences when one chooses to sacrifice, whatever the wager is.
    My favourite line here:
    ‘I stayed inside and
    life walked down Broadway.’
    Your title is fantastic and sums it all up perfectly indeed. Beautiful and heartfelt silent, unseen suffering.
    Thanks NetaQ!

  • Mediterranean autumn air,

    warm and thick.

    Mid-morning relocation

    dresses billowing from the backseat.

    Boarding school on mothers’ lips

    love on hers.

    Raised voices,

    virtuous disapproval.

    The flash of g […]

    • Your words convey the feeling of the whole terrible ‘accident’ and the tragic down flow. The use of the prompt is used subtly and effectively.

    • Hi Limor,
      A tragic story indeed. You captured the essence of complication so well. Love and lost and death and grief, all elegantly interwoven in this piece. A really nice piece using a real life event.

    • I can see what’s happening here – you’re deconstructing all the icons of our age as you build your body of work. There are a few I can’t wait to read from: Freddie. Di. Jackie. Amy W. The Iron Lady. There are three prompts left in the year, Limor…

    • Hi Limor, what a clever poem you have written. So many questions over her untimely death. A fabulous use of the prompt too, very subtle, as Sue said. Well done!

    • Hello Limor,
      I like the way your poem ‘investigates’ all the possibilities for this tragedy but also recognises the very real grief the Grimaldi family surely felt. Thank you for sharing it.

  • The splatter of red made Nora’s tummy lurch. It reminded her of dried blood. There were tear-dropped shaped flecks against the white paint where the Neapolitan sauce had hardened, probably months ago. She leaned o […]

    • Limor, you never cease to surprise and amaze! Hee-hee – an accountant with a gambling habit. It’s kind of poetic!
      I suspect Nora is not going to have any of it though. She’s so meticulous, she’ll probably see right through the fancy couple. And she’ll devise her own payback, I’m very sure of that. A delightful read. Keep up the churn, you’re almost there!

      • HoneyM, you always make me laugh when I read your reviews. I keep pulling my collection of stray rabbits (characters) out of this giant magician’s hat and you keep looking at them like its the first one you have ever seen! Don’t you agree that the world is a better place with Nora in it?

    • You know how I hate stories like this. You get so engrossed in them, jumping ahead in your mind. Is Nora is going to foil their plan or is she going to be charged with murder. Then it ends!!!!
      Well written and oh so devious. I loved it

    • Great stuff! I love the detail about using a nail brush to show how fastidious the carer is (I bet she notices them being over dopey or the change in the pills before they are able to do their damage!). One little typo I think (perhaps it is a culture-specific spelling variant), but it should be swap not swop — at least in my American version of English!) Fun read and thanks for sharing!

      • Hi Teresa!
        Thank you for stopping by to read my tale. The little parts of Nora’s character shine just enough for the reader to realise that she isn’t a push over or a fool. I can only imagine what she will get up to once she gets wind of what that rotten, greedy son of the Bishop’s has in mind…
        Typo is culture specific, yes.

  • There was no weeping when I ditched your perverse competition,

    No foolish tears stream down my pale, French face.

    I smothered our love in my thick mink coat – a gift for your adultery,

    Clipped on my diamanté […]

    • Jane replied 5 months ago

      Wow this is a story told within a poem. Very powerful and strong, just as the image you have chosen is. I found it online – named – Weeping Woman by Pablo Picasso in 1937. I have put a link here in case anyone wants some more information on this particular painting. https://www.tate.org.uk/art/artworks/picasso-weeping-woman-t05010 You have definitely done this image justice with your words, well done Limor.

    • Hi Limor. I love the repetition of the lines ‘A life in tatters, but yet, intact.’ It brings hope to an otherwise almost sardonic and cynical take on the life the ‘I’ in the poem and her relationship with the fickle artist. You might want to change this: ‘Order the car – my bags packed,’ should be ‘ordered the car – my bags packed’, or ‘order the car – my bags are packed.’ Well done and thank you for sharing.

    • Hi Limor – I loved this especially the ‘ drunk intruder of hearts’ line. How intense were the feelings and how self indulgent these artists were – high on drugs, alcohol, emotion – feeding off each other, loving and hurting each other, you capture Dora’s pain so well. Loved it.

    • Hello Limor,
      So clever to write the poem from the point of view of the woman, photographer Dora Maar. I enjoyed reading it, and liked the repetition of the ‘punch line’ – ‘A life in tatters, but yet, intact’. Thank you Jane for giving the source of the painting.

    • Limor, I think this is the best I’ve read from you, in like, ever. Like the photographer in your narrative, like the paintings, the angles of your words, unusual in their perspective, is what makes this so powerful. Like so many others, I LOVE the lines, Order the car – my bags packed / A life in tatters but yet, intact. And the subtle and not-so-subtle repeats of this idea. Talk about melting wallpaper!

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