Your new prompt word is
BLOCK
Numerous meanings for this week’s word come to mind – a Lego block, for example or a block of ice. There are buildings, such as a tower block or office block. Something might be causing you to have a mental block. Of course, there are physical blocks too. The word can have negative connotations – think of poor Anne Boleyn going to the block, blocking those spam emails that come in or blocking an opponent from making a move. What does this week’s prompt word mean to you?
Fact or fiction, prose or poetry, I would love to read your thoughts on this week’s prompt, but there’s no obligation to share your writing. Here is the work you shared on the last prompt CLOSE.
“That was a close call.”
“We walked away didn’t we?”
“Yeah but I think next time we should use an airplane.”
I believed we’d always be close. After all, we’ve shared over forty years of friendship. But something happened and we’ve drifted apart. I miss the closeness we shared. It was more like a sisterhood. Perhaps we’ll find it again.
When I close my eyes, I think of you, Dad,
Not as a memory fading with the years,
but as a steady light that still finds me
through the shadows of ordinary days.
I remember your laughter,
warm and familiar as a favorite song,
filling rooms that now seem quieter,
yet somehow still echo with your presence.
I remember your hands,
strong enough to carry burdens,
gentle enough to offer comfort,
teaching lessons words alone never could.
There are moments when I reach for the phone,
forgetting for a heartbeat that you’re gone,
and in that brief space between memory and reality,
I feel the weight of missing you all over again.
But love has a way of staying.
It lingers in the stories I tell,
in the habits I never noticed I learned from you,
in the courage I find when life asks more of me.
So when I close my eyes,
I see the kindness in your smile,
the pride in your eyes,
and the love you gave so freely.
Though I cannot walk beside you anymore,
I carry you with me everywhere.
And in the quiet places of my heart,
you are still here,
still loved,
still missed,
and always remembered.
Eternal Harvest
The barn seems full, but let’s not close
its squeaky, creepy, sleepy door.
Within are treasures that we chose.
Outside are waiting even more.
One Door Closes
The “one door closes” metaphor
Sometimes requires something more –
It needs to slammed,
Nailed shut and jammed…
So it becomes an unopenable door !!!
I am not close to my family and in many ways wish things were different.
I grew up watching the Waltons where the closeness of grandparents, parents and children was paramount. Perhaps my idea of family life was therefore blinkered, though I had a happy childhood full of terrific memories and parental love. I would not change that.
Why is it some siblings are close and others so distant, they have closed the door on each other?
Can we pinpoint the change? Was it a specific thing that turned the tide? Attitude? Comparison of lifestyles? Too busy? Children? Jealousy or a misunderstanding? We can ask questions and second guess until we’re blue in the face, but will never know for certain. Imaginary conversations abound, some probably too close for comfort and so we settle for acceptance.
In closing, there are always two sides to a story. Readers have only read mine, but I still believe Family is Family, even if it’s only by blood.
Lou by the Sea:
The temperature and humidity soared even higher. Unbearable. To say it was close was a huge understatement. To say it felt that the world was due to explode, was more accurate. Tempers were frayed beyond repair. Flies buzzing around our ears settled on our eyelashes and hair. Swiping at them only bruised our bodies and our patience. Sweat trickled, tickled down my back, my neck, between my breasts. I screamed into the heavens, “STOP! Just stop it now”. A crash of thunder right there where my shout fell. A bolt of lightning. Now a twister races toward me. Claiming me.
Combustible
She came into my office the way trouble always does in this town — quiet, glowing at the edges, carrying the kind of heat a man should walk away from but never does.
People like to say if you get too close to the flame, you’re sure to get burned. They say it like it’s advice. In my line of work, it’s more of a prophecy.
She asked for help. They always do. A missing ledger, a man with a grudge, a shadow that wouldn’t stop following her. I told myself I could handle it, keep a professional distance, stay cool.
But she wasn’t just a case. She was combustion.
By the time I realized it, the city was already glowing with the kind of fire you can’t put out. A fire that starts in the chest and works its way inward, burning slow, burning everything in its path.
Do you ever close off parts of your poems or stories? Do you get too close to your personal thoughts? I would think most of the time writing here you keep a free hand, jotting down what you think, feel or try to accomplish a difficult poem form. That’s probably the way I write, personal and honest as I can and I try to get some humor in, or a jab at Trump… nuff said on that subject!
But this is as personal as it gets – this morning I was in the shower and now that my hair is a bit longer, a wet curl fell off my shoulder and onto my chest. I thought, and this might come a little too close for comfort, on my part at least, but I’m being honest… I thought “the romanticism of hair”. I have never met a man who didn’t prefer his love to have a long, touchable head of hair. So tell me true gentlemen, is that true? Give me your thoughts! Clearly I spend too much time alone!
But think about it. How many famous poems have a piece of hair in there? A wisp, a curl, a strand, mane, locks, waves, crown, tangles, bangs, braids, bun.
A skunk is a cute little creature Except don’t get close to his main feature Be very afraid Or you’ll get sprayed Then be praying for help from the preacher
Close is a small word with many meanings.
A door can close.
A chapter can close.
A distance can close between two people.
Sometimes close means an ending.
Other times, it means exactly the opposite.
I have people who are far away in miles,
yet close in my heart.
And I have met people who stood right beside me
while feeling a world away.
Closeness is not measured with a ruler.
It is found in shared laughter.
In silent understanding.
In the comfort of not having to explain yourself.
As we move through life, some doors close behind us.
Friendships change.
Children grow.
Seasons pass.
At first, those endings can feel like loss.
But I have learned that when one door closes,
another often opens quietly nearby.
A close is not always goodbye.
Sometimes it is a gentle invitation
to begin again.
Today, the word close feels especially meaningful.
Not because something is ending,
but because it reminds me to hold close the people, memories, and moments that matter most.
The older I get, the more I understand that life is not about collecting things.
It is about keeping close what truly nourishes the soul.
Love.
Family.
Friendship.
Kindness.
The things that remain long after everything else has faded.
And perhaps that is the greatest gift of all —
to know what belongs close to your heart,
and never let it drift too far away.
Happy Anniversary to us.
Susan Batten:
Closing in
I’m just a whisper away,
I’m as close as the nails on your hand,
Just as close as the wind
As it ruffles your curls,
Just as near as your gold wedding band.
Don’t imagine you’ll ever be easy,
Now you know what a close friend I am.
For I’ll never desert you, my dearest,
No more running for you: here I am.
Close to Close
Closing time was closing in, But close to close, they came right in, We can’t close the doors! We have to stay open! “We wish they would leave!” That’s what we were hopin’
Aisle by aisle, they paced through the store, While we were hoping they’d walk out the door. What makes them come in when we want to go? I’d love to tell you, But I’ll never know.
They’re headed up front with their baskets in tow, Or so I thought, but look! There they go! For one minute minute we thought they were through, But they’re shopping some more, And that just won’t do!
It’s now been an hour since they walked in, And our patience is stretched incredibly thin. Yes, it’s our job to help these poor louts, But an hour past close? We just want them out!
So when you need to go to the store,
I know it may seem like a tedious chore,
But don’t come in late compounding our sorrow.
If it’s close to close,
Please wait for tomorrow!
Jules Pens Some Gems:
Unfathomable
The case is not yet closed.
As to why certain documents seem to be ignored.
The specialist and the generalist
Seems to be at odds with a particular diagnosis.
Even after explanations and declarations
From the patient that the specialist
Has declared abnormalities are just differences –
And there is no cause for health concerns…
The generalist seems to have disregarded
The provided information which maybe wasn’t totally
Straight forward when the findings of the specialist
Where submitted for the patient.
Abnormal does not mean bad or ill, just not the same
As the majority of the folks for whom one general test works.
But the results aren’t a close call at all when the same test
Is used for one with however a slight variance from the norm.
The patient would like to believe the generalist’s intentions are good.
However, repeated suggestions to see the same specialist
Because the normal tests are proving ‘at odds’ information –
Well it is disheartening to say the least.
a close call
is it when two ships
avoid ruin
mich navs:
Closed
“goodbye” –
this is all i have left to say
to a love i carried too long.
i loosen my grip and call it goodbye,
a farewell worn thin by time.
how did i keep it alive in my hands
when every road led me away,
when even the stars kept spelling: let go?
so here i am, grieving a death without burial,
haunted by a goodbye i should have said
many months, many moons ago.
at last, i close this chapter –
not because the story meant less,
but because it deserved an ending.
and though the pages ache beneath my fingers,
i turn them anyway,
leaving your name behind
as another chapter begins.
poetisinta:
To be Close
your look
beguiles me
unravels me
to be close to you
is like snowfall
in summer
so rare
Closer and Closer
The first thing this prompt brought to mind was the weather. In hot weather, Gran used to say it was ‘close’.
Heaven knows what she’d make of the weather we’re having in the UK at the moment. Even the most hardened sceptics can’t deny that our climate is changing. Whatever cause we attribute, it’s clear we’ll need to give more thought to coping with it in future.
(And to think that I put down carpet tiles in the conservatory when I moved in to keep it warmer.
It’s a tiny flat; I need all the space I can make liveable.)
Why ‘close’ though? Close in the sense of being humid..? as in the heat being too close to our skin for evaporation?
Close to unbearable?
Close to apocalyptic?
Another use Gran had for the word was to declare that someone was ‘close’ with their money. This would be when she didn’t wholly disapprove of them. She wouldn’t go so far as to say that person was ‘tight’. (Time and space don’t permit me to go into her alternative uses of that word.)
My late hubby was very close to his mum (no pun intended) and often used phrases that she would use, which I usually recognised from Gran’s treasury. They were both Londoners, but their phraseology had survived a couple of generations at least.
Is it just my little corner of the world, or have these interpretations dropped out of use over the decades since they left us?
Fruit
Dawn’s dew vanishing
the day’s fruit; festooned blossoms
gathered, fragrant, close.
Rall:
i feel
so close to you
especially in winter
under a big fur rug where we
cuddle
Close Encounter with Grizzly Bear Number 399
Grizzly bear 399 was a long lived female Grizzy bear who lived in Grand Teton National Park and Yellowstone National Park near Snake River. She was called Grizzly bear 399 because of her tag number. She was arguably the most famous grizzly bear in the United States and likely in the World. Unlike the typical female grizzly bear, Grizzly 399 regularly gave birth to triplets rather than twins. She was seen and admired by thousands of visitors. Her Instagram account has 55,000 followers, books were written about her and documentaries were made. She had 22 cubs throughout her life.
For photos and fascinating insights into this remarkable bear, click here.
I thought I was lost but maybe I was just changing
Thoughts running through my head that kept rearranging.
Minnie Mouse ran by dressed as Raggedy Ann
Following close on her heels was Toucan Sam
In the middle of a park they stopped for some air
Slow Poke Rodriguez strolled by without a care
Clouds filled the mind as it turned a deep grey
Peaceful insanity returned bringing on a new day
I opened my eyes and wanted to go back in R.E.M.
For four minutes and twenty-eight seconds of a nightswim
When I saw this word, I didn’t know whether to talk about how my husband will never close things or whether to write about close relationships.
I’ll start with my husband because it is the funniest if you can manage to see it that way. I’t a good job that I can or we’d have had a divorce long ago. He can never remember to close cupboard doors in the kitchen, thus, I walk straight into them, not realising that they are wide open. I have been lucky thus far and not knocked myself out, although one time, his efforts at DIY ended in a kitchen cupboard ralling into my arms from a height as I was trying to get something out of it. That wasn’t actually funny, but I could see the funny side of it. It was the same with the inspection pit in the garage. He left the top off it so that anyone could have fallen into it. I am not sure why he does this, but it does make me feel quite frustrated.
As far as relationships go, I am not very close to my family. This is not my choice but theirs. I have one brother and one sister and my parents are both dead. I would love to be closer to my brother and sister but we have grown apart and they don’t want to make it any different, which makes me sad. I think my mother made it that way really, and we as a family were never close to others in the family like aunts and uncles.
It can be hard when you have no close relatives especially as you start getting older, and it isn’t easy at times like Christmas, but in the past we always found something to do or we had others to dinner on that day who were alone and in need of company. Nowadays, we can’t do that, and so we just try to ignore Christmas as much as possible.
I think I have got close to the end now, so I will finish here.
When one door closes, one opens
When the moon sets, rises the sun
We find what’s next to our action
Contradiction and distraction
With our problems, we can do tons
Possibilities outgoing
And as long as we are coping
We try and what was done was done
Action has a chain reaction
Consequences and retraction
And we cannot please everyone
Life’s flowing, treasure each moment
We have to keep our doors open
For we never stop hoping
Enclosed
When I was a tween of twelve, I liked to play with my youngest sisters who were two and three years old at the time. They were my ‘living dolls’. One of my favourite games was dressing them up as nursery rhyme characters, especially Jack and Jill from the nursery rhyme of the same name. I had a full blue satin skirt of Mom’s that I would fashion into a floor length dress by pulling it up under the child’s armpits and using a pink silk scarf tied around the waist, criss-crossed across the breast, and tied in a bow behind the neck to keep the skirt secure. I also had a blue velvet evening cap which I easily fashioned into a bonnet using another of Mom’s scarves. One of the children had to be Jack and I had knickerbockers and a brown velvet evening cap for his costume. The problem was the neither of my sisters wanted to be the boy, they both wanted to be Jill. Laura, who to this day is very determined and strong willed, flatly refused to be Jack which meant poor Hayley always had to take this role.
One day Hayley would not be Jack. She would not let me dress her in the cute outfit I’d created. Laura would not be Jack either and I got very cross. So cross that I declared I would be the evil witch and they could both be princesses but they were my prisoners. They were happy to both be princesses even if it entailed being my prisoners and I duly dressed them up in long flowing dresses and bonnets.
Then it was time for them to enter their prison. I’d had the bright idea of shutting them between the front door and the security gate. Shoving them into the narrow gap, side-by-side, I closed the door and locked it. I didn’t leave them shut in for more than 5-minutes but it was long enough for both of them to start howling like wolves. I got into a lot of trouble but it is still a memory that makes me wonder where I got some of my crazy ideas from.
Jack and Jill
disagreeable
pair of kids
both wanting
to be lovely princesses
didn’t like prison
Close Encounters of the Worst Kind
Once upon a time, a mosquito and a man entered a philosophy contest.
The man delivered a two hour lecture on existence, purpose, and the mysteries of the universe.
The mosquito simply landed on the judge’s nose.
The judge slapped himself unconscious.
The mosquito won.
The moral?
In life, greatness is often determined not by intelligence, strength, or effort, but by who gets close enough.
I learned this lesson repeatedly, often against my will.
As an adult, I have discovered that “close” is not a distance. It is a highly unstable emotional condition.
For example, I once stood close to a bakery because the smell of fresh bread was irresistible.
Three minutes later, I was carrying six pastries. I have no memory of purchasing them. I suspect the croissants used hypnosis.
The same thing happens in clothing stores. I enter with the noble intention of “just looking.”
Then I wander dangerously close to a sale sign.
Suddenly I am explaining to my bank account why a sequined jacket seemed like a sound financial investment.
My bank account and I no longer speak.
Technology has made matters worse.
Years ago, temptation had to travel to my location. Now temptation sends notifications.
My phone frequently informs me that a package I never ordered is “close.”
That word creates panic.
Close?
How close?
Street close?
Neighbourhood close?
Why does it sound like a velociraptor tracking prey? I spend entire afternoons refreshing delivery updates as though I personally launched the shipment into orbit.
Then there are relationships. Human beings have a fascinating habit of measuring affection with proximity.
When someone sits very close, we call it intimacy. And when someone sits even closer, we call it public transportation. The distinction is delicate.
I once sat beside a stranger on a crowded bus. By the end of the journey I knew his lunch menu, financial concerns, and apparently his complete respiratory history. We were practically relatives.
Nothing reveals the power of closeness more dramatically than family gatherings. An aunt can be seated fifty feet away and still ask why you are not married. The question travels faster than light.
Scientists should study this phenomenon. Astronomers spend billions searching for mysterious cosmic signals. I’m absolutely sure that I can save them time. The strongest force in the universe is an aunt detecting your life choices.
The second strongest force is a mother saying, “Come here. I just want to talk.”
I’m sure nobody has ever believed that sentence. Not once in history and not even accidentally.
Close also enjoys playing tricks on ambition. Every success story includes the phrase, “I was so close.” Nobody says, “I was comfortably distant from my dreams.” That would be a terrible motivational poster.
Instead, humanity survives on the intoxicating promise of almost.
Almost won.
Almost finished.
Almost rich.
Almost fit.
Almost replied to that email from three months ago.
Entire civilizations are powered by almost.
I myself have spent years being close to becoming organized. I own planners, notebooks, sticky notes. I even own a drawer specifically designated for organizational tools.
Ironically, I can never find it.
The truth is that close is life’s greatest comedian. It places success just near enough to wave at you. It puts chocolate cake within eyesight of every diet. It positions alarms exactly far enough away that you believe you can sleep for five more minutes.
It introduces people to “one last episode” knowing perfectly well that sunrise is preparing an entrance. And yet, despite all the chaos, I secretly admire it.
Because close keeps hope alive. If things were far away, we would quit. If things were already ours, we would get bored.
But close? Close is the mischievous little distance where dreams flirt, opportunities wink, and common sense quietly packs its bags.
So whenever someone tells me I am getting close to something important, I smile. Then I become suspicious.
Because history has taught me that whenever life says, “You’re close,” it usually means one of three things:
A breakthrough is coming.
A disaster is coming.
Or a mosquito is about to win another philosophy contest.
Too Much Confusion
Mireille had learned over the last decade to mute the background noise- the hum of uncertainty, the static of politics, the constant thrum of news alerts that made her stomach tighten before she even had her coffee. But the Supreme Court rulings of late had sharpened the noise to a razor’s edge.
As soon as she read the morning’s headline – Supreme Court overturns humanitarian visa protections; thousands of Haitian and Syrian nationals may lose legal status – her coffee went cold in her hands.
Already this week the Supreme Court had stripped away an entire architecture of humanitarian protection at once. A collapse so sweeping she still couldn’t hold the whole shape of it. They had cleared the way for roving patrols, for profiling, for the kind of stop that began with detecting an accent, cleared the way for further mass deportations- and now even those, like herself, who were in the US on protected humanitarian visas were in jeopardy of removal.
She’d come from Cap-Haïtien fourteen years earlier, after the assassination, after the gangs carved the capital into territories, after the kidnappings surged, after the UN reports started using the word “catastrophic” like it was a weather forecast. Her visa had been her lifeline- narrow, fragile, but real. She had followed every rule. She had never missed a check-in. She had paid taxes on every dollar she earned.
And now the Court had decided the law that had allowed her to escape the turmoil of her home country meant something else entirely.
Trying to take her mind off it, she scanned the day’s other headlines –
Cuba crisis escalates; international observers warn of possible genocide.
Iran condemns U.S. airstrikes; regional tensions rise.
The world was burning in every direction, and the fire was inching closer to her every moment.
Just then there came a knock on the door. The door was closed, and as she put her hand on the doorknob, she was stricken with fear as to what she might find on the other side.
“Mireille, tifi- louvri pòt la! Ou wè tit nouvèl yo maten an?” sang through the door- it was Fabi, her next-door neighbor, asking if she had seen the headlines. A wave of relief flowed through Mireille as she swung the door open, took Fabi in her arms, and together they cried.
***
Image credit: Pinterest
Esther Chilton 
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