Flying Out of this World

Yesterday, my dear witchy friend, chosen sister, and all around wicked talented artist, Gina Morley, changed her Facebook profile picture. I went to “Like” the painting she chose, saw another piece I love, then another caught my eye, and after that I was completely lost inside the wondrous world of my Gina’s art for about… a very long time. I figured that it would be only fair that you, too, were given the chance to be inspired by creations that are out of this world…

For Day 16 of NaPoWriMo with Magaly Guerrero 2015, Write a poem where the speaker travels to a parallel, but infinitely remote, universe.

Travel to a world where faery magic is spread through bubbles…
Gina 1
Or where wheeled mice gave winged folks suspiciously bored looks…
Gina 2
Perhaps, your chosen world would be inhabited by Blooming Howls
Gina 3

P.S. If you choose to display Gina Morley’s work at your site, please link the post to her blog. That goes for you, too, Gina *cackles witchy style*.


* Leave a link to your poem, as a comment. Include the title of your entry, and the direct link to your post. Example: “NaPoWriMo with Magaly Guerrero 2015”: Visit other Wicked Darlings and comment on their yum. They might visit you (it’s polite).

* If you use this prompt, please link it to your post. And if you are feeling extra delicious, link your poem to the main entry. Show others where to go. Spread the word. Linking back to the source will Big Bang new galaxies. Really.

Climbing Trees in a Skirt

I had a threesome of girls living on the tip of my tongue. At fifteen, their separate existence was my living. On Fridays, the girl I guarded most spent hours at the library meeting gods, talking to dead people with a past, and discussing the benefits of flax seed on festering wounds. Fridays were short. Weekdays were womanned by a camouflaged girl who knew patience—library girl would’ve never survived hand-to-mind combat against nuns who believed Jesus rose to save souls while teaching math. Home girl was wicked fun and fierce. She looked hot blood in the eye, never pretended not to know, climbed mango trees wearing skirts, and cackled with the moon.

fifteenth spring of life…
tight triad of one, morphing;
she’s growing her Self

for NaPoWriMo with Magaly Guerrero 2015, Day 15 – Fifteen: Write a poem about the town or city where you spent the fifteenth year of your life. If a poem about said place doesn’t move your muse, try something memorable that happened when you were that age. Introduce us to fifteen-year-old you.

Defiance, by Angie Wright

Defiance”, by Angie Wright