Your prompt word this week is
CLASSIC
This week’s word was one I thought of when I saw a picture of a classic car. We also use it to describe a film or song that’s become known as a classic. And, of course, we use the phrase to speak of writing works which are classics. If we do something wrong, we might say it’s a classic mistake. 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 CATCH.
The Flower Bouquet
a flower bouquet
in a glass vase
filling the room
with sweet floral fragrance
its vibrant petals
catch the early morning
sunlight
and their petals grow
flowers blooming quietly
on the green stems
as delicate petals
unfold
from the heart of
each blossom
You can try to catch a glimpse of Luck
And never get a view,
But the minute you look for Trouble…
You can be sure It will find you!
The Catch
Be careful what you long to catch.
The chasing might be fun,
but when you get what you have got,
you’d better love what you have got.
If so, you both have won.
Wilf Leahy:
The double decker bus was on fire with Ann and her baby trapped on the top deck. She screamed for help and she and other passengers pushed the emergency window open.
A group of four young people all from the same school shouted, “Lower the baby!”
Ann hung the baby out of the window and let it go. The group had to make the catch. They did. The baby was safe.
Ann jumped. They caught her too but the catch resulted in one broken leg and two broken ribs. The tv crew had filmed the lot and called the group ‘The catch squad’.
Rall:
there is
always a catch
no thing as a free lunch
you cant trust anything these days
at all
What’s The Catch?
There’s an underlying “catch” in every ad.
A trickery that ought to make us mad.
It’s no longer smart to trust.
Become a cynic if you must.
Question ALL intentions or be “had”.
Catchy Slogan
A slogan screams from a campaign bus
to catch the attention of voters,
denouncing the sins of that other lot.
They claim they’re the honest brokers.
The catch is, the past has a nasty knack
of catching up to condemn.
Now their misdemenours are coming out
you won’t catch me voting for them.
Jackson Peabody always considered himself a good catch, up to the point when he was arrested for bank fraud.
We had met up with a group of young men trying in vain to catch their supper at Comberton Quay on the River Avon on one of our many trips to Stratford Upon Avon when we had the boat.
They had all the gear, rods, fancy reels, heavy line, expensive bait, keep net and of course the traditional cool box of beer.
Hubby struck up conversation and suggested they use bread for bait and maybe the fish would bite.
They laughed good naturedly, and eventually, empty handed, packed up their stuff leaving the jetty entirely to us for the night.
Back at our berth in the marina a few days later, Hubby practiced what he’d preached, and made a makeshift rod with a long stick and some heavy duty twine. For a hook, he used a bent pin, and bait was, as he’d suggested to the lads, bread.
It didn’t take long until he had a nibble and then a bite, landing this magnificent example of a tiddler for his efforts. It was a little dace, and he gently removed the pin then threw the fish back.
If you get the chance to catch the show at the Shepherd Hotel in Windsor, UK, do so without hesitation. The finale is a pair of sea lions on a trapeze above three cod flopping on a trampoline made of cheese.
Susan Batten:
The Catch
Too good to be true! What’s the catch? I exclaimed as I read the first batch. He denied there was one, said production was fun, AI did all the work straight from scratch.
Snagged?
Cornered
After a
Tenacious, game of
Cat and mouse – romantic
Hurrah?
Catch The Killer – Or Just Catch Someone?
“Catch the killer!”
Three simple words. Three words every grieving family desperately wants to hear followed by another three:
“We found them.”
But what happens when the determination to catch a killer becomes more important than finding the truth?
I’ve been following the Faith Hedgepeth murder trial, and something presented in court has left me furious.
A detective introduced an image reportedly recovered from the defendant’s laptop, containing handwritten words, as part of a handwriting comparison.
But there was a rather significant problem.
The image appeared to match an old viral internet meme.
A meme!
Something that could potentially have been checked with an internet search.
And yet, according to the courtroom testimony I’ve been following, investigators had years to examine this material before it was presented in court.
How does that happen?
How can evidence be treated as meaningful without first establishing where it originated?
And if something so easily questioned makes its way into a courtroom, what confidence should we have that everything else has been thoroughly examined?
A murder trial is not a guessing game.
There is a victim whose life was brutally taken. There is a grieving family waiting for answers. And there is a defendant whose future depends on the integrity of the evidence presented.
Every one of them deserves better than assumptions.
Detectives are human. They can make mistakes. But mistakes must be acknowledged, especially when someone’s liberty is at stake.
What troubles me most is the apparent lack of accountability when questionable material is challenged.
Where is the apology? Where is the explanation?
And perhaps most importantly, where is the determination to make sure it never happens again?
I am not saying this incident proves anyone’s innocence or guilt. That is for the evidence and the court to determine.
But I am saying that justice demands more than simply catching someone.
It demands checking, questioning, verifying, and sometimes admitting that an investigative theory might be wrong.
Because catching the wrong person doesn’t solve a murder.
It creates another injustice while leaving the original one unresolved.
So perhaps the question should never be merely:
“Did you catch the killer?”
Perhaps it should be:
“Did you follow the evidence wherever it led, even when it challenged everything you believed?”
Because justice is not about winning a case.
It is about finding the truth.
What’s The Catch?
“I don’t know,” Richard said to the man in the fine silk suit and red shirt with the slicked back black hair sitting across the table from him. “My father always said that if something sounds too good to be true, it probably is.”
Stan shook his head. “Didn’t you father ever teach you not to look a gift horse in the mouth?”
“So you’re telling me that what you’re offering me is a gift horse? This sounds a lot like that Nigerian prince email scam from the 1990s. Do you take me for a fool?”
“You are no fool, Richard, and your skepticism proves that,” Stan said. “But if you want to talk in terms of gift horses, this opportunity is much better, my friend. Think of it as an insurance policy that protects you from failure.”
“What’s the catch?” Richard asked. “There’s got to be a catch.”
“Don’t be such a Doubting Thomas, Richard,” Stan said. “There is no catch. You don’t have to pay anything up front, and you’re not putting any tangible assets at risk, Richard. This is truly a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. But it’s also a limited-time offer. Once I leave here, it’s gone.”
Richard sat back in his chair. He lit a cigarette and then took a sip from his glass of bourbon. “Fine,” he said in the tone of a beaten man. “Where do I sign?”
Stan pulled out a piece of paper titled, “Binding Agreement” and handed a pen to Richard, who took the pen and applied his signature to the document.
Richard handed the pen back to Stan, who scooped up the signed contract and put it in his leather briefcase. Stan stood up and put out his hand for Richard to shake.
But when Richard went to shake Stan’s hand, he looked at his face and gasped. The whites of Stans eyes now had a yellowish tint and the pupils had turned reddish-brown, and his hand skin felt scaly and slimy. “Jesus, what have I done?” Richard asked.
Stan smiled, “Jesus can’t save you now, Richard. Your soul is mine.”
Blackberry Catcher
For a full week, the blackberries would ripen
you ate that first one and its flesh was sweet
- the sweet flesh would turn sour
I tasted the malignity of the gorse
gagging my mouth with my own blown hair,
leaving stains upon the tongue
Tight wires between us,
we hoarded the fresh berries in the byre
our hands were peppered with thorn pricks
Summer's blood was in it - a place of force
the paths narrowed into the hollow,
and the snares almost effaced themselves
I always felt like crying
tearing off my voice - the absence of shrieks,
made a hole inn the hot day.
Therapy Bits:
Will You Catch Me When I Fall?
Some days I wake with a smile on my face,
Pretending my mind is a beautiful place.
I laugh with my friends, say I’m doing alright,
Then cry all alone in the silence of night.
There’s a storm in my head that nobody sees,
A weight on my chest that won’t let me breathe.
I scream without sound, I break without tears,
I’m fighting a battle I’ve hidden for years.
They tell me I’m strong, that I’ll make it through,
But they don’t understand what my mind puts me through.
I’m tired of pretending, of saying I’m fine,
When the darkest of thoughts are consuming my mind.
I look in the mirror and don’t recognise me,
Just a shadow of someone I used to be. I miss who I was before everything changed, Before all my happiness turned into pain.
I don’t want attention, I just want some peace,
A moment where all of these thoughts finally cease.
I want to feel worthy, I want to feel whole,
I want to find light in the depths of my soul.
And maybe tomorrow the sun will shine bright,
Maybe I’ll find my way out of this night.
But tonight I’m exhausted, I’ve given my all,
So I’m asking you softly,
will you catch me when I fall?
michnavs:
Joy
it’s strange
to be this happy
with a heart that still remembers pain.
to laugh until i forget
what sadness felt like,
then find it waiting quietly
in the corners of the night.
i’m making memories
i once thought i’d never live to see,
becoming someone
my past self wouldn’t recognize.
and maybe that’s the wildest part
i’m not healed because i stopped hurting.
i’m healing
because i finally learned
i could hurt
and still choose joy.
still grieve.
still grow.
still dance.
still have
the best time
of my life.
i can still catch myself smiling
at a life i once thought
i’d never get to live.
Samhain Jig: A Bussokusekika
The crescent moon grins
as bones jig perilously
on Samhain’s thin veil.
A goblin howls the tempo,
as peculiar partners twirl ….
pray their cold hands don’t catch you!
Playing Catch With Dogs
laying catch with a dog is a fun way to provide exercise for the dog and perhaps for you too. Many dogs love to play the catch game whether it is with a ball, a squeaky toy or some other kind of toy. You just need to be a little bit careful not to overdo it. The wrong kind of toys can hurt their teeth and be careful, so you don’t accidentally throw the toy right at the dog and hurt them. Nobody likes to have a ball land on their head.
Our mini-Australian Shepherd Rollo loves balls, and he loves playing catch with balls and squeaky toys. Today October 22nd it is National Make a Dog’s Day, and we played with Rollo and he also got a little bit bigger dinner than usual.
To read more and for more gorgeous photos, click here
Neighbors
nurturing friendships
their leaf blowers grow quiet
two neighbors catch up
Catch (And Release)
I dare you to catch me Then what will you do? You'll have to release me Or face you-know-who!
I bet you can't catch me
Your wits are too slow
You likely won't find me
Somewhere you can't go!
And if you should catch me
Prepare for a fight
My lover will save me
That bright shiny knight!
Ladyleemanila:
What can you catch, but not throw?
I caught it and it lingered for a long time
Tried to cure it with tea of ginger and thyme
For weeks and weeks it just wouldn’t go
I couldn’t throw it back and getting well was slow
Kept on drinking juice of lemon and lime
What can you catch, but not throw?
I caught it and it lingered for a long time
All the things I did I’d tell you blow-by-blow
Still it lingered and I’m always in downtime
I just want to be healthy again and in my prime
Despite all the things I’m mostly in bed even so
What can you catch, but not throw
Breath Of Now:
Stealing Away
I just closed my eyes
as I sometimes do
to steal away from replies
for a moment or two.
But I didn’t see nothing
as one might suppose.
Instead, I saw something
that resembled a rose.
Its petals were flowing
like water free born.
But deep in their knowing,
they somehow held form
Its colors were many
yet one just the same.
I’ve never seen any
that made the same claim.
I was lost in this gem
until I happened to see
the thorn on its stem
was pointing at me.
“Back to work!” was its take
and I woke with a fright.
I can’t catch a break.
Guess I’ll be here all night.
***
Image credit: Pinterest
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