Your word prompt this week is
WHISPER
This week’s word came to mind when I couldn’t hear someone because they were speaking in a whisper. So we think of it as soft speech. But what about the wonderful sound of the wind whispering through the trees, the whisper of something that you’ve heard or Chinese whispers? 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 PLAY.
Finding That Spark
Some mornings I wake with a weight in my chest,
While everyone tells me to simply “do my best.”
I smile through the day, though I’m fading away,
And search through the darkness for somewhere to stay.
My thoughts become storms that refuse to be still,
Yet deep down inside me, I’m fighting them still.
I watch others laugh, run, dance, and play,
While I quietly struggle to get through the day.
The mirror feels distant, my face not my own,
And even in crowds I can still feel alone.
But sometimes a spark finds its way through the night,
A whisper reminding me to hold on tight.
Depression may follow and darken my view,
But hope can return like the morning light too,
So I’ll keep moving forward, believing it’s true.
A Deep Dive
I was working on my tablet back in 2016 when I stumbled upon a project that allowed me to have a minimal Linux graphical environment. Instead of a full desktop that I expected, all I got was an old-looking aqua-colored window with a terminal inside.
I did some research, and it turned out that I had a window manager installed, called TWM, which was one of the oldest window managers for Linux. I made a deep dive about them, and it turned out that I could install tens of window managers.
So, I decided to play around several window managers, and each one of them looked different, with some trying to look like Windows, and others being inspired by other operating systems. I was amazed by how vast the options were, so I chose two window managers to be my favorite ones.
My most favorite is IceWM, because it’s easy to use and is inspired by Windows. My second favorite is AfterStep, because it had two meditating wallpapers that really touched me: Cell (a minimalist concrete room with sunlight casting overhead) and Japanese (a minimalist interior with traditional Shoji screens and dramatic sunlight).
So, I learned that window managers can provide a minimal desktop environment for computers, but are lighter than full graphical environments, and I still use them to this day.
I’ll admit it – I play the lottery
With dreams of defying probability.
I know it’s not logical.
The odds astronomical…
But dreams of winning are an escape from reality!
My heart is happy because I have new ladies groups to play Mahjong with and different days I play hand, knee, and foot! That is in addition to PT 2-3 times a week, church activities, and son I’ll be volunteering at Orange Christian Services! Now I truly feel like I’m doing what pleases God. I’m socializing, I’m praying with others as well as my own personal study time, and I’m helping my community.
Bear Fruit or Play?
Bear fruit. Resist the urge to play
though tasks once known suggest delay.
Today, however, I’ll obey.
Tomorrow, may I also.
Showing Up, Despite The Fear
Jerry has never gotten comfortable on the graveyard shift at the local chicken processing plant. He is known as the “Jumpy Janitor,” because after nearly ten years on the job, he still is so easily startled. Ken, one of the guards, laughingly told him one night, “Man, don’t you ever go to jail, if you this scared of your shadow!”
Jerry gave him a contemptuous look, having no respect whatsoever for the man. He did not like the way the night guards liked to play pranks because of his fears. He couldn’t help that he had suffered from nyctophobia, an intense fear of the dark. As a child, he had once fell into a well, and by the time he was rescued, he was nearly catatonic from the fear of what was in the darkness.
It would be good if he could get on the day shift, but he needs the money for his family’s needs. His prayer to the Lord is that he will eventually be moved to the day shift. But in the meantime, he will keep showing up to work, despite the fear. That’s what believers do!
I always like a play on a word
It makes you wonder which you’ve heard
Like synonym and antonym
I always seem to confuse them
Could be I would be called a nerd
The Afterlove Voice:
Press Play
When I was young,
play meant scraped knees,
imaginary kingdoms,
and staying outside
until someone called me home.
Then life grew serious.
Play became something
we were supposed to outgrow,
packed away with childhood toys
and forgotten dreams.
But somewhere along the way
I discovered
we never really have to stop.
I play with words
until they become poetry.
I play a handful of notes
until they become a melody.
I play with impossible ideas
until one of them whispers,
Why not?
Sometimes even a mistake
becomes something worth dancing to.
Perhaps growing older
isn’t about putting play away.
Perhaps it’s about
finding new playgrounds.
So turn up the music,
laugh at the typo,
dance in the kitchen,
create something ridiculous,
beautiful,
completely unnecessary—
and when life becomes
a little too serious,
press play.
Jules Pens Some Gems:
Tra-La-La
Platitudes to
Lazy days as
Autumn’s cool days
Yield easily into the next season.
John W. Howell:
He got the part in the play. Opening night, he got the jitters. He expected that he would forget his lines but lucky for him he had none.
Susan Batten:
The Play’s the Thing …
Anybody who has seen a play in the theatre will identify that particular thrill which comes over them, even before the curtain rises. The hum of low conversation, the rustling movements of the audience, the sight of those dignified old drapes and décor, even the smell floating in the air – it all contributes to the enchantment, and when the lights go down and the first scene opens, we are transfixed, lost somehow, to the world outside.
The Regency public enjoyed theatre, too, especially melodrama and pantomime, but private theatricals were decried as a threat to morality and patriarchal authority. Jane Austen painted a fine picture of this in “Mansfield Park”, where the young people are caught up in their enthusiasm for putting on a play, but the owner is wrathful when he discovers their scant respect for his property. It was not to be borne! Here, Sir Thomas Bertram illustrates the Regency attitude to play-acting at home; an indiscreet activity, full of temptation, breeding insurrection in family life and threatening social decorum.
But Shakespeare, in his day, believed in the power of domestic theatricals and wrote, “The play’s the thing wherein I’ll catch the conscience of the king”, a play within a play …
We overcame the Regency era prejudice and theatre of all kinds continues to delight us, even in these days of the video clip.
Fandango:
Bad Choices
Derek always thought of himself as a stud, a Don Juan, a real ladies’ man. He also believed he was untouchable.
In every room he entered, he carried himself like a celebrity. He loved attention, ignored advice, and laughed off warnings from friends who told him that careless choices, especially when it came to unprotected casual sex, would eventually catch up with him.
For years, nothing seemed to go wrong, which only made him more confident.
Then one day, after a routine medical visit, his doctor gave Derek news he never expected. He had contracted a sexually transmitted disease. The diagnosis forced him to confront something he had spent years avoiding: responsibility.
The hardest part was contacting people he might have infected. One by one, he made uncomfortable phone calls. Some people were angry. Others were disappointed. A few simply never spoke to him again.
The news spread quickly through his social circles. Invitations stopped arriving. Conversations became awkward. People who once admired his carefree attitude now saw him as someone who had put himself and others at risk. He became a pariah.
Derek complained to his best friend Chuck. But Chuck was unsympathetic. “Dude, choices have consequences and you chose to have unprotected sex. If you’d used condoms, you wouldn’t be in this situation.”
“But I don’t like how condoms feel, Chuck,” Derek said. “It’s making love with gloves on, you know what I’m saying?”
“I get it, Bro, but you were selfish and your choices have ruined your reputation. Nobody trusts you anymore to behave responsibly, and most of your friends have turned their backs on you.”
“You mean my so-called friends? They all suck.”
“Listen, Derek, it was your choice to behave recklessly, and now you’re paying the price,” Chuck said. “You have no one to blame but yourself for the situation you’re in. You wanna play? You’re gonna pay. Besides, in a couple of months this will all blow over, and knowing you, you’ll be back in the saddle again.”
“Yeah,” grumbled Derek. “I prefer to ride bareback.”
Chuck shook his head and walked away.
Pensitivity101:
This is how Hubby sees me, and has done a lot of these cartoons over the years.
SWMBO stands for She Who Must Be Obeyed, and whilst I am nothing like Ursula Andress who played SHE in the movie, I do play piano or basically anything with a keyboard.
This goes back to my early childhood when I was encouraged by my Dad and we used to play duets together. Gradually I got to play both parts on my own, but the encouragement and fun was always there.
I inherited his natural gift of playing by ear, and although I can work out the notes, I get impatient, so if someone plays the melody, I can usually pick it up and improvise the rest.
michnavs:
Not All Men
not all men.
yes, we know.
just some men
like the Cornell 7,
like Weinstein,
like Epstein,
like every man
who looks at a woman’s body
and mistakes it for a playground,
a possession,
a place where consequence
does not exist.
and sadly,
behind every abusive man,
every sexual offender,
there is someone
who calls him son,
brother,
father,
friend,
colleague,
peer
someone who knows his name
before knowing his crime,
who sees the harm
and still searches
for an excuse.
because accountability,
to some,
is only a game
until the person they love
is the one being held
to account.
not all men.
we know.
just these men.
and the people around them
who choose silence
over truth,
loyalty over justice,
comfort over the woman
who was never given
the luxury of looking away.
-
P. S.
As I was writing this poem, I was standing in the waiting area of a supermarket, waiting for my ride. While I stood there, I began noticing the women around me – women like me, some elderly, some standing beside their heavy grocery carts, waiting patiently for their rides.
What caught my attention was that the waiting area was full of men sitting comfortably in the chairs, absorbed in games on their phones, while the women remained standing.
It was such an ordinary scene that no one seemed to think twice about it. But somehow, it stayed with me.
It made me think about how often women are expected to accommodate, to endure, to step aside, even in the smallest and most ordinary situations. And sometimes, it isn’t about grand acts of cruelty. Sometimes, it is simply the choice not to notice another person when you easily could.
Yes, not all men.
We know.
Just these men.
The men who could have given up a chair but chose not to. The men who saw the women standing and continued playing their games. The men who, in that small moment, reminded me why the phrase “not all men” can never be the end of the conversation.
Because we are not talking about all men.
We are talking about the ones who choose not to see.
Off With His Head
“Play nicely, children Look at the mess on the floor. What have you done with Daddy’s head?”
“Casper took it,” said Igor.
“He ran in the garden with it. “Lillith pointed through the window to where a large rottweiler lay on the grass, chewing.
“Oh no!” Mother shook her head.
“That’s that, then; another Peppa Pig jigsaw for the dustbin.”
Except Me
There are time in my life
when I feel like I'm in a play,
Where everyone knows their lines,
except me.
I stumble through every scene,
hoping to figure out what happens next.
Everyone seems to know the story,
except me.
They act out their roles,
with a sense of conviction.
Everyone knows where they're headed,
except me.
There are days in my life,
When I feel like today.
I smile and just keep moving,
hoping everyone will ultimately,
accept me.
Thomas Wikman:
Dog Play
For this prompt I decided post stories about dog’s playing as well as pictures of dog’s playing. Some of the pictures are my photos. Some pictures I generated with the help of ChatGPT. My first story is about when our big Leonberger dog playfully greeted our neighbor by putting our neighbor’s head in his mouth like the circus lion trick.
On one occasion, one of our neighbors came over to say hello to our big Leonberger dog Bronco. We’d had Bronco for a year by then, so he was big. As our neighbor entered our hallway, Bronco came running, and before I had a chance to stop him, he jumped up and put his paws on our neighbor’s shoulders. This man is somewhat short, so Bronco was able to lick his head, which he proceeded to do. Then Bronco did something we were totally unprepared for. You know the circus trick in which the lion tamer puts his head in the lion’s mouth? Yes, that’s the trick Bronco performed on our friendly neighbor.
Bronco was just playing and having fun, but that’s not how to greet a neighbor. I apologized profusely, but our neighbor said that it was perfectly all right and that there was no harm done. He looked a bit unnerved, and obviously he had not expected to be part of a circus act, but he said that Bronco was a wonderful dog and that he really loved the big galoot.
To read more and for some great pictures, click here.
She confided to the reviewer that it seemed her life had been a play, performed on an unevenly constructed stage in each town she was moved to. She’d not authored it, and would not be remembered as “the star”.
She could never learn her lines properly, so terribly awkward with the rest of the cast; and too afraid, always expecting predictable criticism…or else the silent stares which were even more scary, as she could not interpret them.
What was in the hearts of others? She’d discovered it was often brittle darkness…greed spoken within false charm, venomous antipathy voiced loudly in anger.
She’d been a child–yet everyone from stage managers, to scriptwriters, to wardrobe dressers would verbally beat the innocence out of her. They didn’t praise, nor nurture…because it was just a show–credible appearance was all that mattered to whatever audience happened to come before them.
Sighing softly, she waited for the reviewer’s last question.
“How is it then, that your life is now a relatively peaceful success?”
“I’m a miracle,” she stated simply. “I survived unjust, and concealed brutalities because God–the Great I AM–kept His promise to never abandon me. His gentle and mighty hand has steadied me in every storm. I’m not an actress…rather, a beloved daughter.”
“And what happens when this play ends with a curtain call?”
She smiled with a quiet joy: “I shall tiptoe off the planet and go Home to the little mansion awaiting me.”
Goals
Nor-easters goaltend
bare branches stick handling play
falling leaves shoot, score.
Changing Kitchen
Changing kitchen is a stress
The house is such a mess
Twenty years of good old service
Brought memories with us
There’s chaos all over the place
Living room no space
It’s not finish after two weeks
Eating salad and leeks
We’ll celebrate when it is done
Cook a meal and have fun
Get Down!
Dr. Evil’s horoscope predicted pure chaos. That night at a club, the shifty doctor sipped a martini while boasting about inventing a new vaccine. Suddenly, an errant woodpecker crashed through the window, heading straight for the stage. The DJ began to play some sick tunes which the evil one took as his cue to breakdance like Michael Jackson in the Thriller video.
One, two, three, I close my eyes, you hide
Four, five, six, and I got you
Played catch, played ball, didn’t matter what
With friends and cousins, till we all grew
Cycling, skating and basketball
We played outside all day long
Didn’t matter what, played catch, played ball
When we heard a gong, time for a song
We swam in the creek, we drank fresh milk
And never ending giggling
Played catch, played ball, didn’t matter what
With friends and cousins, smiling
***
Image credit: Pinterest
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