a tribute to Rumi #17

I mention in my sidebar that Rumi is my favorite poet. I write poems in the style of his longing for the Beloved. If you would like to read the other sixteen poems in the series click here for the category list, and scroll down.

“Snow capped mountains shrink under sun’s glare”

the facts are not in doubt
adjudication moves with typical
torpidity like glaciers in the
high peaks it grinds away
precedent to gravel and dust
that day the fruit was splendid
waxed and polished seductively winked
sliced samples artfully displayed
for discrete tasting of flesh
the purchaser acknowledges
selected each bagged and
transported promptly yet
like so many men’s souls
when cracked under pressure
every center was rotten
infested with vermin and worms
caveat emptor
a lesson hammered home by
tramping legions of eagles
does your pulse not quicken to
sense the Beloved in every
sinuous and sensual curve of
ripe mouthwatering produce
can we not marvel at perfection
of form and function yet still
curse the failure of human
cultivation of honesty
that lesson we never seem to learn
hide the vice within and loudly
proclaim devotion to the heavens


such energy

jiggle exposed flesh
lively tune in smokey pub
save some for bedding

The Daily Post prompt

Jiggle: ORIGIN mid 19th cent.: partly an alteration of joggle1, reinforced by jig.
Joggle:ORIGIN early 16th cent.: frequentative of jog.
Jig: ORIGIN mid 16th cent.: of unknown origin.

another type of deadly weapon

Lavender Roaring Fork Clinchfield had something in common with the Misses Forsythia and Hydrangea; they all loved glitter. Hardcore crafters, the three of them spent Wednesday nights at his mansion hideout along with the rest of the Hot Glue Gunners. Chromium liked to model the many outfits, his tail a rhythmic counterpoint to the high-pitched giggles of the tipsy matrons. By the end of the evening, the frantic pace would become languid, and loose sparkles covered everyone with rainbow flair. All their creations were sold at the Rusted Sisters of Mercy thrift shop. Lavender’s impish impulses always made something inappropriate.

The Daily Post prompt
Three Word Wednesday prompt

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Authors note: This link Iron Hollows Fiction goes to the “Iron Hollows” category of 100-drabble fiction segments or click each drabble link below. They are not serially linked but rather vignettes set in and around the fictional town of Iron Hollows.

Dramatis Personae:
Lavender Roaring Fork Clinchfield: True scion of the South: notable for his fashion plate and bachelorhood.
Chromium: An American Blue Gascon fond of sniffing the ladies.
Miss Forsythia and Miss Hydrangea: Perky and together in that way.
Troubadour Peppermint: Deceased founder and savvy huckster.
Harmonious Intent: Deceased rival to Troubadour, prolific and fertile bigamist.
Sanctimonious Poppermince: Direct male descendant of Troubadour, current mayor and a disappointment.
Generous Tupelo: A woman with eyes for fun and a body for sin.

“the legend of the time before”
“along the non-existent waterfront”
“gunpowder explodes, fireworks delight”
“clouds play peek-a-boo with moon”
“homemade gravy for the grits”
“unsuccessful sultry spring seduction”
“where there is snow there are complaints”
“thankfully the tavern had stocked up”
“air as crisp as a grilled McIntosh”
“auction night to fill the food pantry”
“discontent brews in men’s souls”
“boogie to classic carols”
“sometimes surrender is inevitable”
“misty smells gather in the valley”
“a collector of all things rare”
“pass the salt please”
“monuments fossilized by the past”
“secret sauce of peppermint schnapps”
“always read the fine print”