United Friends Challenge # 178

Caffeinatedjo's Challenge

Write a poem, any style, in which you describe yourself.

You must include a metaphor, a simile, alliteration, and onomatopoeia.

Metaphor: A word or phrase used to have a completely different meaning. Example: Edgar Allen Poe's "The Raven" being a constant reminder of his loss and not truly a raven.

Simile: An expression that compares one thing to another using 'like' or 'as'. Example: The milk tasted like pickles.

Alliteration: Starting three or more words with the same sound. Example: The crazy crackling crops.

Onomatopoeia: A word imitating a sound. Example: 'buzz', 'moo' and 'beep'

Fallen from the Tree

I was an apple,

And fell close to the tree.

But I rolled

And tried to get away.

To be loosed.

To be free.

But the apple is never free from the seed inside.

Thnking that it was love,

I shackled myself to my only--

the only one who understood me

The only one who would ever love me--

as a work animal led by its nose,

its hooves weighed down by muck and mud.

The seeds inside tried to grow,

But like a withered winter willow,

They lay dormant

As love died and parted.

Like an abandoned fruit in the middle of a field,

I ached through each day at a time.

But spring came.

It always does.

My Gardener picked me up

And saw something that I could not see.

He planted me by streams of living water.

He tended to me and watched me grow.

He kept the weeds at bay

and supported me when the rains came.

The seasons came and went.

And love came again

And I found I could grow together

and be bound with another

and weather the tippytapping of rain on our leaves

And the cracklecrunch of snow in the night.

More season passed and 3 apples fell

From our branches.

And still, I look to my Gardener

and my life's partner.

The apples don't fall far.

My fruit, Our fruit

Fallen from the tree.

Copyright 2009 All Rights Reserved

For more creative entries, please click here.

United Friend Challenge # 170

Sumax's Challenge

There's an empty room with a smashed plate on the floor and food dripping down the wall near the door.
In a short story, tell us what might have happened ... and don't make it the obvious wife/husband or sibling argument..





First Home

Pamela Merczyk jiggled the key and opened the front door. Her two inch heels were pinching her baby toes but she gritted her teeth and smiled.

"This is a new listing. Um, three bedrooms, two baths, kitchen, dining room, unfinished basement. Attached two and a half car garage. And it's empty. Move right in." Pamela moved into the middle of the frontroom and let the young couple roam.

The young woman walked to the bay window and ran her fingers of a few of the 16 panes. The young man looked up at the ceiling and then around the baseboards. "Only two outlets. That's the problem with these older homes." He sighed and strolled into the kitchen.

Pamela winced and took a deep breath; this was the last showing of the day. Those shoes would come off in the car. She waiting for the young woman who was looking at the gentle arches by the front door and the stairs. She understood this young woman after years of experience in real estate. Those little features like the arches, the four paned double hung windows, red oak flooring, fired her prospective sale's imagination. Pamela smiled and joined the young man in the kitchen.

"The former owners put in new cabinets and Stainless Steel appliances." Pamela opened the freezer door and looked inside. "Only two years old."

"It's a short sale, isn't it?" The man's blue eyes accused her, but she was not sure why.

"Yes. Newer floors, in good condition. The place is immaculate and it's priced to sell."

From the other room, they heard, "Hon, let's look up here." The man ignored her and went upstairs. Good sized rooms, a bathroom, more oak floors that were in pristine condition. She spent a lot of time up there looking out at the large backyard and the pool. Pamela went downstairs into the kitchen and took off her shoes to wiggle her toes.

In the empty home she could hear them talk or rather argue in muffled tones. He sounded angry and Pamela heard the words "bloodsuckers" and "forget it." The wife was shushing him and whispering. The wife had fallen in love with the place. Good school district, big yard, pool and large bedrooms: all the things that she had wanted. It was not a surprise when they walked down the wooden stairs. She pushed her sore feet into those dreaded Nine Wests and leaned against the countertop.

They trudged down into the basement and stood by the stairs in shock. In the middle of the floor was a broken plate. Food, spaghetti probably, dripped down the wall to the floor. Some of the sauce has splattered on the door to the half bath that was not in the listing. The man shook his head.

"I don't feel right about this, Annie. We're buying off the misery of others. I'm sorry, Ms. Merczyk. I'm not ready to buy today. Sorry to bother you." The young man stormed up the stairs and out the side door. The wife gave her an apologetic look and ran up the stairs.

Pamela sighed, kicked off her heels and dialed the office. Someone would have to come and clean up the mess.

Copyright 2009 All Rights Reserved

For more creative stories, please click here.