Friday Fictioneers – Dactyl and Spondee – February 26, 2015



She’d walk like that when she was upset – long strides and single-minded. Dactyl in those moments stayed back. Oh, his human wasn’t mean or anything, but he knew she needed alone time … moments to get the sourness out of her system after she’d been nearly poisoned by “man-rage”.They walked along the tracks, which had been unused for years. Then suddenly she turned:

“Hey Dactyl old boy, let’s go visit Jen and Spondee.” She said in her happy voice that Dactyl loved so much. He yapped his approval.

a brisk walk
leaving woes behind
woman and her dog

Friday Fictioneers

The Unmailed letter

A postal box back amongst a hedge. The G.R. is for George Regina – King George VI, predecessor to Queen Elizabeth II. …….. The white area is the collection times. Mon-Fri – 6.00pm Saturday 11.30am. Silver square at the top is the day of the next collection, in this case – TUE

It’d taken her two hours to write the letter:   rough draft, corrections, a rewording here a cancellation there.  She’d decided this time she was really through with him.  She was tired of his rages.  She’d decided that writing him she wouldn’t have to face a third degree … and worse his anger.

The door bell rang.  She looked through the video on the house phone.  It was him.  Her eye strayed to the mirror by the doorway.  Eye, because one was swollen shut where he’d hit her just the night before in one of his drunken fits.

She thought she’d just ignore him.  Maybe he’d just leave.  But no, he began to pound on her door.

“I know you’re in there, putana! Let me in!” he yelled drunkenly slurring his words.

Shaking, she took out her cell phone and dialed 113.

“Pronto, Carabinieri.  Can I help you?” a smiling voice came over the phone.

“Yes please come quickly, there’s a man at my door, he wants to kill me.”

“Presto … give me your address.” He urged her in a calm precise voice.

Too late, the door caved in.

They found her following the phone’s gps … there laid the letter, unmailed, by her body.

Sunday Photo Fiction – June 22, 2014

spfIt’s been awhile since I wrote for Sunday Photo Fiction … a great photo, why not give it a whirl!

Heeding HA

This is a very interesting post and prompt.  Below I will be putting the link to the post and think it would be worth your while to take a look at it!

Prompt: “carefully analyze an emotion within you, attribute a word to it and then let it out in the nature in the form of a haiku or tanka”

in one word: anger
boiling resentment – flaring
a tempest roaring
my voice – thunder of the soul
my tears the calming rainfall

body shuddering
in the maelstrom of anger
blood pounding river
pulsing in my head – eyes veiled
katana of words flashing

upon life’s pathway
through moments of calm and storm,
from color to black and white
kaleidoscopic passion

Written for Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie: Heeding Haiku With HA

Tanka – March 2, 2014

olive tree at night

olive tree at night

swirling like nightmare,
I cursed your sad existence!
no comforting light,
black thoughts tumbled inside me,
walking in anger that night.

calmness soon returned …
my pace became more placid,
camera at hand
I took an eerie picture,
called it: olive tree at night.

Anger – Kyrielle Sonnet

“Anybody can become angry – that is easy, but to be angry with the right person and to the right degree and at the right time and for the right purpose, and in the right way – that is not within everybody’s power and is not easy.”- Aristotle

“In a controversy the instant we feel anger we have already ceased striving for the truth, and have begun striving for ourselves.”- Buddha

Rhyme-less Kyrielle Sonnet


once again you underline
everything not right in me
you pick and peck like a hen
and now I feel just worthless

anger should be my response
not just sitting back in shock
the hurt’s gone on much too long
yet each time it’s just the same

funny that for most of us
anger is to be avoided
when my problem as you see
is I cannot get mine out

tears that well up in my eyes
are anger’s condensation

For many years, I was unable to become angry.  I felt sad when attacked and I usually felt that somehow, I was always in the wrong, and would just feel worthless.

Though I’ve become better at feeling angry and getting resentment out in order to  defend myself from “bullies”, it is always an effort.  In fact, I very rarely argue or raise my voice, and would prefer to just leave rather than face unpleasantness.

In the past I could have read Aristotle’s beginning words in the quote above and expressed some very serious doubts about just how easy it is to become angry.  As for the Buddha, of course he is correct…but in fact in the above situation, a person who allows herself or himself to be bullied needs to search and to find their worth.  In my opinion, that is the first truth one must seek.

Of course the situation I lived in was not a “not being angry” reality.  The anger, deformed and turned inwards, was probably a part of my personality, that part of my character which wanted to be the martyr, like saying: “Look at poor me…what I have to go through as I carry the world’s troubles upon my shoulders, and now, also be mistreated.”  Not so cool I think and good to go forward leaving that sort of thing in order to have a better approach to life.

The quote that is right for me is the following (uhm) with-in limits:

“Usually when people are sad, they don’t do anything. They just cry over their condition. But when they get angry, they bring about a change.”  – James Russell Lowell

This was written in response to Dungeon Prompts Season Two Week Four…my response for the prompt:  Anger Management.