“Eliza May, my buttercup
I know how I can cheer you up.”

“Oh, Dad, I’m fine,” Eliza said.
“I’d just prefer to stay in bed.”

“I found a cookie recipe
and hoped you’d make a batch with me.”

“But Dad, you don’t know how to bake.”

“What kind of talent could it take?”

“Besides, supplies are all set out.
Come. Let your dad remove all doubt.”

Eliza simply watched at first.
The eggshells fell; the flour dispersed.

Her dad espied her now and then,
relieved to see that smile again.

“I think the dough’s all set to roll!”

“Is something missing from your bowl?”

“Eliza May, I checked the list –
What could I possibly have missed?”

“I’m pretty sure you need to add
some sugar to the mixture Dad.”

“You are so right Eliza May;
your expertise has saved the day!”

Now will you help me roll the dough?”

“I always did with Mom, you know.”

Her dad moved over by her side
to hold Eliza as she cried.

“I know it’s hard without her here –
especially this time of year.”

“How will we ever celebrate?
Our family’s what made Christmas great.”

“I have to think she’ll always be
here watching over you and me.”

Enjoying when we start anew
with things just you and she would do.”

“Like baking cookies?”

“Yes indeed!
Which cookie cutters do we need?”

This is my second entry for the 9th Annual Holiday Contest graciously sponsored, once again, by Susanna Leonard Hill! In 250 words or less, write a children’s story about a holiday treat – whether it be Christmas, Kwanzaa or Hanukkah. Then post your link to her site. Who will write the best story? It could be you!! https://susannahill.com/2019/12/09/ho-ho-ho-the-9th-annual-holiday-contest-is-here/

Dear Santa,

All Bailey and me want for Christmas is for our family to adopt him. PLEASE let Mom and Dad see he is not too much to handle.

Love,

Sam and…

PS, the pawprint is from Bailey.

****************

Sam left the letter on the table for his mom to mail.

Mrs. Thompson entered the room holding a pair of chewed slippers. “These are…um…were your father’s favorites.”

Bailey tucked his tail between his legs. Sam knelt down beside him, wrapping his arms around his neck. “Oh Mom. Give him a break. He’s just a puppy.”

“Sam I don’t know how many more breaks I can handle. And remember: we are only fostering him.”

Sam whispered to Bailey, “Not if Santa has anything to do with it.”

“What?” his mom asked.

“Um, nothing. We’re going outside – and he’ll be better. I promise!”

Bailey lived up to the promise until bad weather kept them both indoors. When Sam chased Bailey around the den, Bailey ran behind the Christmas tree and…

CRASH!

Mrs. Walker gasped. “Bailey out! Now! No. Not you Sam. You, help me clean this up!”

Sam wept as he swept up the broken ornaments, saying, “Even Santa can’t help us now.”

On Christmas morning Sam stayed in bed. Bailey, however, ran downstairs, returning soon after carrying a bone with a tag. Bailey placed the bone on Sam’s chest.

Sam read the tag, “It’s from Santa. It says, ‘Welcome to the family.’ Oh Bailey,” Sam cried, “you get to stay!”

And now for the 9th Annual Holiday Contest graciously sponsored, once again, by Susanna Leonard Hill! In 250 words or less, write a children’s story about a holiday treat – whether it be Christmas, Kwanzaa or Hanukkah. Then post your link to her site. Who will write the best story? It could be you!! https://susannahill.com/2019/12/09/ho-ho-ho-the-9th-annual-holiday-contest-is-here/

BROOM OR BUST

The Witches-Who-Confer convene,
just once a year on Halloween.

The youngest witch to ever try
to earn her broom and learn to fly,
Sabrina stood before the crowd;
enacting words she spoke out loud:
“A pinch of cobweb, extra dusty,
metal shavings, not too rusty.
Put them in a pumpkin shell.
Add the potion; mix it well.”

Sabrina ducked behind the chair
as pumpkin pieces pierced the air.
And once the chaos came to rest
Sabrina said, “I tried my best!
I’ll go back home; I’ll hone my tricks
and I’ll be back when I am six!”

An eighth place finish out of 324 entries! Thank you to all!


This is my second entry (maybe not Halloween-y enough though) for Susanna Hill’s fabulous and 9th Annual Halloweensie contest. There will be a lot of entries to read, so if you want to be entertained and impressed, click on the link and see what creative minds can do with a limit of 100 words. https://susannahill.com/2019/10/28/the-9th-annual-halloweensie-writing-contest-aahhhrrrooooooooo/

“You can’t go out for Halloween until you clean your room,
including knocking cobwebs down and sweeping with the broom.”

When Sebby donned his mask and cape his mother closed the door.
He grabbed his potions from the shelf then sat down on the floor.

He measured, mixed, and tested options: “Presto, change-o, clean!
My magic powers must not work on something so routine.”

His mother came to check on him,
“This room is far from neat!”

“But Superheroes don’t do chores!”

“Nor do they trick-or-treat!”

This is an entry for Susanna Hill’s fabulous and 9th Annual Halloweensie contest. There will be a lot of entries to read, so if you want to be entertained and impressed, click on the link and see what creative minds can do with a limit of 100 words. https://susannahill.com/2019/10/28/the-9th-annual-halloweensie-writing-contest-aahhhrrrooooooooo/

Do You Dare?

“I dare you, Sam, to trick-or-treat at Old Man Daniel’s place.
They say he killed a bear by hand and’s missing half his face.

“He never saw a doctor and the maggots, so they say,
are feeding off his open wounds and eating flesh away.”

“I’m not afraid of nothing and besides, it can’t be true.
If I decide to take this dare, what do I get from you?”

“I’ll give you all my candy, once you eat what he hands out;
he’ll give you juicy maggots from his bloody face, no doubt!”

“You’re on!” said Sam to Peter, “But you better keep your word!”
As secretly he prayed there was no truth to what he’d heard.

On Halloween, with fingers crossed, Sam knocked on Daniel’s door.
The man who answered’s face was hidden by the mask he wore.

Relieved, Sam took the candy, told him thanks and turned to run
and meet back up with Peter, glad this dare was almost done.

“All set!” he said, then showed him.

“Are you sure?” asked Peter, giggling

He raised the bag that Sam just got
“Your gummy worms are wiggling.”

This is an entry for an October challenge, Kidlit Fall Writing Frenzy hosted by Kaitlyn Leann Sanchez and Lydia Lukidis https://mathiseverywhere439319476.wordpress.com/2019/09/30/kidlit-fall-writing-frenzy/?fbclid=IwAR21ela92iv3xW8dCQLtiILdTKCjfgHeBhiw-YPB9wpX5BtLM4c_QKFnARM based on an image of gummy worms (image 8). I was limited to 200 words, and this comes in at 189.

One day I caught a leprechaun, but said I’d set him free
if we could take a selfie and he’d split his gold with me.

“Agreed!” then warned the leprechaun, “Be careful how you spend.”
“Your riches all will vanish if you reach the rainbow’s end.”

I paid no heed to what he said, I took my share and ran;
I headed to a dealership to bargain with a man.

I bought a BMW in candy apple red
and matching model for my wife, but Viv’s was orange instead.

Then next I bought a Cannondale as yellow as the sun –
but Viv said no to exercise and so I bought just one.

To even out the purchases, since she was born in May,
I found the perfect emerald to give to her that day.

By now I had a thirst to quench; though any drink would do
the store stocked only Gatorade and so I chose the blue.

I stood outside the Five and Dime to relish my new ride
and thought, I need some finer garb to match its lush inside!

I drove to Neiman Marcus – for the first time in my life.
I only shopped at Target for my clothing and my wife.

I asked a clerk to help me find the best jeans I could own.
“If best is what you’re looking for; you’re wanting Rag and Bone.”

I fit two sizes smaller, as I learned it’s not the same
how pants are made at Target versus by a branded name.

I had the clerk cut off the tags so I could wear them then.
I said, “Get used to seeing me, ‘cause I’ll be back again!”

I left a whole inch taller, but I thought as I walked out,
my Viv will be quite jealous of my fancy pants, no doubt.

To ease her pain, I found a floral vendor on the street
and picked three pots of 6. violets – their smell, a bitter sweet.

As soon as I had paid for them – they vanished in thin air;
I felt a coolness on my legs and realized they were bare!

I quickly put my old pants on and went to find my car,
but knew I would be walking home, and goodness, home was far.

I tried to think of some way I could let my poor wife know
of what her foolish husband had and how he’d let it go.

But since I didn’t understand what made it disappear
through tears, I had to itemize each step for her to hear.

I saw a dawning on her face when I was halfway through.
She stopped me from continuing. “I’ll end the tale for you.”

“It didn’t matter what you bought, the colors were the key.
Your luck changed with a violet thing; that fact I guarantee.”

“You’re right, but how or why?” I asked, but could not look at Viv.

“You silly, empty-headed man; it’s “V” in Roy G Biv!”  

This is a prompt from https://www.writing.com/main/forums/item_id/333655-The-Writers-Cramp where, in less than 24 hours, we had to write and include six different colors in our story or poem.

We hope you know how much we care and want you to succeed.
Please know what seems un-learnable is started with a seed.
A pencil is to paper as a hoe is to the ground –
you have to turn the soil first to move your thoughts around.
Although the concepts planted may not blossom right away,
by tending to your learning, you will pick up more each day.

PROGRESS

My ceiling is peeling – no need for replacement.
My view’s set on blue since my start in the basement.



My minimalist poet for the final day of the National Poetry Month challenge offered by http://www.napowrimo.net/ . Thank you for the inspiration!

CEASE AND DESIST

Oh Fear, my foe, stop stalking me. Your needless visitation
disturbs my speech, since when you come my thoughts go on vacation.

I bypass social settings, Sir; I know you’ll be attending –
your molestation of my mind, as always, never ending.

Although my brain is well aware I’m just as good as they,
that notion flies right out the door when you butt in the way.

You violate my right to speech, as well my right to function.
To halt your wracking of my life, I’m seeking an injunction.

For the second to the last day – hurray – of NaPoWriMo, http://www.napowrimo.net/ suggested as a prompt to write a meditative poem based on a strong feeling we have had. I suspect I am not the only one who suffers from social anxieties.

WHAT AM I?

as deep as an ocean
as complex as trig
as simple as catching the greasiest pig

as healing as hugs
as veined as a leaf
as bold as a painting by Georgia O’Keefe

as layered as trifles
as tangled as dreams
as rich as a coffee with multiple creams

as shallow as wade pools
as airy as flight
as tricky as joining the left with the right

as short as a sprint
as long as route one
as bad or as good as a day in the sun