Frustration

I’ve been feeling it so long

I’ve forgotten it’s name.

It comes and it goes,

Like the tide

With its ebbs and flows,

Like the moon

It waxes and wanes,

It is never really gone,

Just lingering behind sight,

Lulling with monotony

Like waves crashing

Against the shore,

Till I’m waist-deep

In despair, waiting 

To cycle out.

Ode

*NOTE* this has been edited. and i'm much happier with the edit.

Ode

Your voice is sweet and slow like honey dripping off a spoon,

And the way your lips caress each word; parting is such sweet sorrow.

Your scent intoxicates my being

With its murmurs of power,

Hints of vice

And the lingering notes of fixation.

Your pendulum see saw hips hypnotize my eyes

So I play right into your smile

When our eyes meet, time moves poco rit,

As you weave your spell on me

And when we touch,

the heat crescendos, my heart beats staccato allegro

And the blood plays fortissimo in my ears.

Posting

I haven't been posting lately, and I'm incredibly sorry. I've been having difficulty coming up with something for the last fff, and generally, I haven't been writing, (though I'm working on something currently).
You can keep up with whatever other random things that interest me on my tumblr Wander Lust and Fever Dreams, where I sometimes write about things that are important to me, but aren't fiction.
I DO INTEND ON WRITING SOMETHING FOR FFF 38. I just haven't figured it out yet.

Best regards and apologies,
Ishara LeGreat

Flash Fiction Friday #37: Une Nuit Dans Les Bois

fff#37: (inclusion) pair, pare, pear, peer, père, pier.

 “They just don’t respect us any more, Anansi. Hunters come and go as they please, and they don’t tell the stories like they used to. Ask the children who Papa Bois is and they think is some guava switch to jumbie them into behaving good in school!” His leafy beard rustled as he shook his head.

 “You complain, Bouchon, but at least they talk of you. You know who they replaced me with? That stinkin’ Brer Rabbit. A rabbit! What part of Anansi the Spider-man did they miss? Cho, thinking about all that foolishness have me irate. You have any pear to calm me down in this big old forest of yours Père Bois?”

 Pears?” Papa Bois asked in confusion. “I can’t really leave the forest in this condition.” He glanced to his pair of cloven feet.

 “Not dat kind of pear, man. Avocado pear, what unno call it around here? Zaboca.”

“Ah,” sounded Papa Bois. He snapped his fingers, and the two old men peered into the darkness of the woods. 

 The rotting leaves of the forest floor quieted the backward footsteps of the small childlike creature that delivered the dark green avocado to the pair. He tipped his brimmed hat at the gentlemen, then disappeared back into the thicket. Anansi gave an exaggerated shudder. “Dem douen always disturbed me. I don’t know how you take care of them.”

Papa Bois sighed. “I don’t like them either. And I leave the minding to Mama D’leau. They like the water anyway.”

He tossed a small hunting knife to Anansi, who caught it deftly and began to pare his avocado.

 “How did you get here anyway? Surely not by flying, I know you don’t like to go any higher than a coconut tree,” asked Papa Bois.

 “I have my ways,” said Anansi mysteriously, pausing for a moment, then laughing boisterously. “No, I came in by boat, then took a taxi in from the pier. And the taxi driver made sure I wasn’t going to hunt.” Anansi cleared his throat and continued in an impeccable Trinidadian accent, “Doh try an hunt out of season eh, ‘cause Papa Bois go well do fuh yuh. I had a breddren who-”

 “Yes, yes I know. He had a ‘breddren’ who I caught and punished,” interrupted Papa Bois with a chuckle.

 “You see Bouchon? They didn’t forget us completely yet. Now eat some zaboca and enjoy the night.” 

Flash Fiction Friday #36: Charisma

fff#36: (inclusion) paw, poor, pore, pour

It seeps out of your very pores,

What ever it is you’ve been blessed with,

You’ve been anointed with,

Your cup is overflowing with it,

And the poor fools that

Paw at your feet

Lap up the lagniappe that pours

From your chalice.

Call To Worship

The artist has no comment.

I come to your temple to worship,

I’m on my knees at the altar,

Give me the wine,

Let me taste your body.

I adore with word,

Thought

And deed,

Let my lips sing your praises.

Let me worship at your temple,

And when I call your name,

It will never be in vain.

Flash Fiction Friday #35: Rites Of Passage

First fff written for the new year. (not the first given eh... this one is a good 2 and half weeks old.... but it was hard to find something that wasn't dirty....)

fff#35: (inclusion) spank, drank, thank, stank, rank

 “Drink it nah boy!”

Jason hesitated. The clear liquid in the purple plastic cup stank. In fact, it smelled almost exactly like the methylated spirits his mother had used to clean his grazed knees last month. The same mother who would deliver the spanking, no, it was safe to say he would receive a cut-ass for this, if she found out what he was doing now.

 It all begun when Kwasi, the eldest of their group, decided, thanks to his older brother, that alcohol was what really separated boys from men. So the vodka had been borrowed from someone’s liquor cabinet, and Jason did his part by bringing the plastic cups he knew his mother wouldn’t miss.

 “Yuh ‘fraid or what?” someone goaded.

That was enough. Jason drank it down in one gulp to the whoops and hollers of his friends. The cup was refilled and passed to the next boy, and Jason was once more secure in their ranks, until some new stipulation of manhood was discovered.