The Absent-Minded Professors
Come on, Vocal. We're waiiitttingggg
Have you forgotten
to give us a new challenge?
Why must I troll you?
About the Creator
Cathy holmes
Canadian family girl with a recently discovered love for writing. Other loves include animals and sports.
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More stories from Cathy holmes and writers in Poets and other communities.
Foot Bindings
I asked my grandmother how she knew she'd fallen in love. I am not sure I ever did love him, she said. This was before I met my husband. I was naive, a naked spring, a raw nerve of a thing. That cannot ever be me, I knew. Sadness swept in gently like a Moscow thaw. It is no simple thing, looking into a woman's vast soul and seeing its foot bindings. Now, in Italy divorced with my skin singed off, when I say I don't love him mean: I have succeeded at feeling nothing most days and it mostly works. Do you want the comfort of Nothing? Do you want Nothing, too? Be warned: you'll never be free, even when you are nothing. Here is what doesn't work: Accepting the stages of grief. Talking about it. Sitting with the feeling. Missing him—no, the person you were when you believed in death do us part. Writing poetry. That, too. When I say I don't love him I mean: I feel capsized in an endless, starved tide. What sometimes works: selective memory. You must forget ripe tomatoes and his beard and feeling perfectly sheltered in a big blue world. Forget coffee in bed, laughter watching TV, blowing out the candles on the birthday cake and the quiet all-encompassing knowledge that you are chosen. Remember only how love turned to a banal everyday survival act, a trapeze act unsure whether he will catch you, how the warmth stagnated and became sour, remember the foot bindings and remember the resentment boiling in your veins as you stick it out for the kids. Six-hour Netflix binges help, too. A man's fingers tracing your spine. Frozen pizza at 2 a.m. Random trips to the museum just to stand near things that last a while. The realization that crying won’t change anything. Seeing that life is just a dream, and refusing to participate in your own suffering. Bite your fist. Walk on eggshells around joy. When I say I don't love him, I mean he didn’t break my heart, he just stopped touching it and it forgot how to beat right.
By Ella Bogdanova2 days ago in Poets
The Lesions of Devotion
Every day I set myself down on the freshly cut lawn and strip myself bare. I take my guitar and finger the frets and pick at the strings, listening for dissonance. My life is dissonance. I twist the tuning pegs until each string sounds bright. Then I kneel, calves pointing behind me, kneecaps facing forward. All exposed to the breeze. I close my eyes and play the melody.
By Paul Stewart4 days ago in Fiction
Comments (20)
They are so silly aren't they! But we are still here... so maybe we are the silly ones ☺
They heard you and said how about three at one time? https://todaysurvey.today/challenges/overboard%3C/span%3E%3C/span%3E%3C/span%3E%3C/a%3E%3C/p%3E%3C/div%3E%3C/div%3E%3C/div%3E%3Cdiv class="css-w4qknv-Replies">
LOL this is short and sweet and to the point.I love it.
🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 Cathy, that was priceless!!! 😁😁😁
Well now there's two challenges but I just don't know what to say. Poem about breakup is too cliche. Story without 'i' is just too hard. Ughhhh!!
🤣🤣🤣
Clever !
😁
Haha!! It seems we are all of the same mind in this regard
You speak for us all, Cathy!! I've been waiting (im)patiently, too...
Bless you! I want to win a challenge so badly! Waiting for one I can sink my teeth into!
🤣🤣 I was thinking similar!
Yes we need a new challenge.
I challenge you to write a poem about waiting for challenges. Oh wait, you just did.
LOL! Nice one buddy! I did wonder what had happened to the next challenge! Well said!
ROTFL 🤣🤣🤣
Hahahahahaha! 🤣🤣🤣🤣
We all need to troll together!!! 😅
There's plenty of unofficial challenges, they're probably working on another publications feed for the home page, we've only got five at the moment 🤣😹
Lol… And yeah, bring ‘em on!!!