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    emmagreen and Profile picture of MalayaMalaya are now friends

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    FlatDaddy wrote a new post

    The Waco Paper Police

    The Waco Paper PoliceBy FlatDaddy     I’m not sure of the year, but I still lived on North 11th Street in Waco, and I must have been in about second grade, ‘cause we were all together then, my two older...

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    • This is a good story. Caught with the help of two paper boys. You had some fun times back then.

      • Oh, I had a few fun times, Fia. Not everything was “sturm und drang”.Thanks for reading this; I wrote it all in one burst last night after a memory of the event surfaced yesterday afternoon. I’m glad you like it.

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    Fia Naturie wrote a new post

    Masseuse on a Mission

    Have you ever had a massage that was so intense that the muscles in your stomach cramped up. OMG The woman almost had me begging to stop. I needed the massage for my back, but my stomach was protesting. When she decided...

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    • LOL.
      Sounds like nirvana. Yeah?
      I myself am kinda weird perhaps, in that I’m not a touchy guy with strangers on me. Yet in personal life I am very touching and receive it well. I think it’s a comfort thing. I’ve had a combative life from early on, so hands on usually meant aggression.
      So no, I’ve never had a professional massage, nor do I ever want one. I’ve done physical therapy for injuries, etc. But that is not the same as going limp and letting some stranger be all on me. I get more tense. LOL.
      Luckily I have Del, who brings out my comfort zones wonderfully.
      As for your experience, i take it that you will want a follow up, in due time? LOL

      • I think I need to take some muscle relaxers for a while. I am definitely carrying a white bandana next to show the sign of I surrender. lol

    • Cleverly penned, Fia. Who knew getting massages could turn so dangerous. lol. Excellent write my friend. Appreciate you, cuz.

      Damian

    • The massage is indeed a very ancient form of healing, relief, spiritual elevation. But there is very little of anything good without the pain of releasing. Great piece Lady

    • OUCH… the muscles in my stomach usually cramp up after the massage … and that is usually not the result of the massage… but that can work as well… ok stop rolling your eyes… you had to mention the massage didn’t you?!?!?!?

    • Mmmm…this is givin me flashbacks of hot coals on my neck
      while my dainty masseuse slow walked down spine. Shit…it was either tap out or pass out
      Sexy write indeed, lady

      Much respect

      Naaj

    • Hahahaha. I’m glad you lived to tell the tale! You had me smiling the whole write. lol
      I love a good message. I went once for a birthday party. The birthday girl had her hair braided so when she came out it was all messed up. Like she was in a fight or something but she said it was a head message. Sometimes I wonder! Lol

    • I’m pretty sure this is one of those that can be taken in more than one way .. I certainly love a decent massage .. and I am also acutely aware there is a certain point of pleasure where blurring occurs & gets confused with pain .. like I said, there is a certain point that will vary from one individual to another .. I’m talking about thresholds here & poetry .. Nice .. Neville 😎👍

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    Styxian wrote a new post

    Caramel Sunday

    I pretend that melancholy tastes like caramel.One is a treat, both are rare for me.How both linger like a pest,one in head, one on teeth.Her skin was caramel.Her neck, a spoon dipped in mocha.The collar of her shirt relaxed,while she rolled the paintup and down the wall.A second coat of white,trying to bury the purple."Who does that?!" She exclaimed,as she fretted with her hairfeathering down onto her lip.I didn't think she expected an answer,so I didn't offer one.Probably had been a girl's room,around fifteen, undecidedif she liked red or blue,so she subconsciously went mixed with them.Her parents could barely affordthis beach house, so she had done with itwhat she could, for this time in being.But it's Annie's place now.I am just a sand walker,looking for shells. Intriguedby this caramel woman I sawlugging paint cans into her house.I guess I looked safe; older,thin, with pretended wisdom upon my face.Annie let me in.So many windows, sunlight sentcalm rays into the room.Crackles of sand glitteredupon the ceramic floor-some still gatheredin the shape of toes.Annie didn't notice, asI placed my foot beside her footprints,pretending we were walking along the shore.-Maybe tomorrow, once she knows mewell enough, if I can stretch out this day.She had sun-tea, some sugar, no ice.And I recalled, there's that caramel colorthat I can't avoid.Maybe later, when the sun once againmocks suicide of itself, out on the water,we will pretend the stars are ice,crinkling through our tea glasses,when we hold them up.She's still rolling, though.I grab the brush and beginto second coat the trim."You don't have to do that", she says.Yet something about the waythe brush glides, wet, slick,covering every inch...I tell her that I enjoy painting.Upon the wall, by the door, a crucifix.Her mom insisted. To bless the housefrom demons and probably sins.Because Annie is still young enoughto partake of christening the houseover and over again, with less thanhonorable men.Summer can be intolerable,without an outlet for her simmering.If she starts talking about her fatherthen I know I am doomed.It means I remind her of him.My fantasy will crash,like an ugly pelican into the ocean.So far, though, she just complainsabout the seagulls shittingon her little wooden porch.Yeah, it's one of the negativesof a beach house. Butat night they settle down.Two hours of small talk followand long strokes of her paint roller.I glimpse over my hand at her,as I run the brush overthe bedroom door. I peek inside; her bed is smalland I am the tall mast of a sailboat,without the benefit of sailsfilling me out.-There's always the comfort of spooning,curling, fetal positioned.That faint security we can't recall,from when we were just infant minded.Subconsciously wanting some form of return.Annie wants to walk the beach.Changes her shirt, to a white blouse.Her areolas unashamed, as they stare at methrough the barely shy veiling.My impulses screaming inside me;I'd marry her today.Divorce in the Autumn, but for nowhoneymoon for ninety days.As we strolled, I found a white feather, drenched,offered to the land-lockedby the generous ocean.I twirled it dry, best I could,then handed it to Annie.Maybe an angel was on its way to her,but fell short, into the sea.So it sent me.Maybe she's thinking about curtains,or the gasping sound of the old refrigerator.I remind her, because I know the feeling,of how in the morning, the wavesfollow the breeze onto the shore.How the first calls of the seagullsare calm, stretching their wings,waiting for the coming morselsfrom clumsy beach goers.I will take Annie's clumsiness,if she wants to falterduring our gracefulnessof painting over the purple.These bruised walls, of a fifteen year old'sbroken heart, a summer ago.When her own angel fell into the sea.We trudge through the deep sand,back to the bungalow.“Wanna stay tonight?”, she offers, as she runs the feather over her lips.I don’t think she meant...

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    • I love how you put so much nuance into this piece.

      • Details are the building blocks, yeah? Sometimes it’s too easy for me to write ones like this. I’m good at visuals. I could literally live within the writes. But really, it’s what we notice, the nuances, yes, that make a moment memorable. And life is all about the moments.
        Thank you, Fia. Keep rockin!

    • Dear M,

      It was as though I could smell the paint. The ocean. Feel the sand on my feet. And then came the morning…I really enjoyed the storytelling of this May-December romance. The live for this moment process feels so prevalent in this write. Wonderful piece. H🌷

      • Well lookie who showed up! How’s you?! It’s good to see you popping in.
        I appreciate your visit and comment. I liked the build of this write.
        I kept visualizing it off and on for days. It could have been much longer, but i spared myself and the readers. LOL.
        It’s more like August-October, though, in reality!
        You ready to post some of your own material now? It’s been awhile!

    • This feels good. Nothing is rushed – it just is in the moment.
      It’s like you turned seconds into an un-rushed comfortable stretch into the next.
      I love how you created this beginning for your characters and moved them into possibilities with a beautiful sunset.
      Even the sheets played a very cool visual – comparing them to sails.

      Loved it! And you. I’m so lucky to get both:)

    • I just changed the title. This one is more appealing.
      At any rate, thank you Sir Damian! It was an idea, with a little real person added in. LOL. I’m just trying to stretch my creative muscles a bit!

    • Well, you do have an influence on much of my ideas… The feminine aspects and such.
      You’re right, I didn’t think about the easy pacing of this/them. But it’s there huh. Good observation!
      Hey, nice avatar! I get to kiss that face!!!!

    • hello dearest Styxian you are a beautiful storteller I felt the easy way you told it like the tide ebb and flow and like the tide building… I wonder at end if your coffee black you had enough of her caramel… great write ❤️

      • Thank you, Crims! I actually drink mocha (coffee, cocoa, and milk).
        I like writing my stories. They are mini’movies to me. As long as there is someone who enjoys reading them, I will post some.
        So thank you for the encouraging comment. It helps my motivation.

    • Great piece dude, totally love it. Do you know at one point the post of the poem “Footprints” popped into our head? Tight

      • Remind me of that poem. I know of the one about being carried by God or Jesus or something like that. No?
        Oh wait, I get the connection.
        Thanks a dual bunch! LOL I keep trying to come up with original ideas/writes, to keep me warmed up creatively.
        I’m supposed to be putting all my best writes together for my book. But I keep editing them more! Argh.
        Hope you are well, We. 😉

    • Dude your pieces are great, they are original and relatable. Our mind relaxes while reading your pieces and we see calming things

      • I do write some brutal truth stuff, rarely. Creative writing is my happy place, so yeah, usually I try to balance good with bad etc. Life needs light.

    • I really like this Mark. When I joined sites decades ago. this was the kind of poetry I wished to encounter. I’ve learnt so much from Americana (though I have worked with Americans) some of it has been a nefarious experience, but mainly, it has had a massive positive influence in my little Welsh world. Your movies are inspiring.

    • Well, I’ve mentioned before that my biggest influence are the writings of a little ol Chinese lady! Yet I’ve also taken in so many other writers’ works into my brain, from several cultures. I literally love unique concepts and viewpoints from so many avenues. It does mold us, when we open our minds to what is out there.
      So thank you, Rob. But in return, your writes make me think, and thus expand too. You are noticed and learnt from.

      • Well, we haven’t met except for a quick comment you made on my “Creepy Old Cat” piece. So I thought I’d take a peek at your work and found this little gem. Nice work, too. You have a good eye for imagery and nuance.

    • Thanks FlatDaddy. I do try!

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    Fia Naturie wrote a new post

    My Love

    My love does not lay in a bed of roses nor does my love like to follow a trail of dying petals.   My love does not have poise’s woven into her hair My love is not conventional;    It is potent   Dash away the repetitive...

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    • Beautifully penned, Fia. Excellent write per usual my friend. Nicely done. Appreciate you cuz.

      Damian

    • This is so cool its almost hot .. & I luv it too .. 💛

      • Thank you, Neville. I was looking for romantic love poem and I got annoyed that I really could not find that on here and there are so many talented writers.

    • Awwww. Nice love poem Fia!
      I need to post something too.
      Hopefully this weekend I’ll post one:)

      Thanks for the encouragement chica!

    • It’s so nice to see this! Never enough truly lovely poems anymore. We all needed to read this!
      Well done, Fia. Bravo!

    • Your love,
      the kind to be sure of.
      Your heart,
      best kind from the start.

      Little things,
      tender happiness brings.
      Warm touch,
      can never have too much.

      Soft kiss,
      leads to such wonderful bliss.
      Happy eyes,
      most loveliest of love’s prize.

      Gosh, Fia! 💕
      ‘Twould seem your warming words have inspired my rugged olde pen to dance with love’s efulgent joy!

      No one speaks of love more sweetly than You, dear poetess.
      And, how lucky we are to share it … thank you, Fia! ⁓ Richard🖌

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