Tag Archives: autumn

November – A Poem(ish?)

(Note: I also posted this on Substack as well.)

Welp, had another little burst of poetic inspiration (Thanks, Zen In the Art of Writing by Ray Bradbury), this time from going out to clean my car of snow (yes, in April) and getting buffeted by wind and struck with tiny stinging bits of snow from the nearest snowbank.

Otherwise, it was a surprisingly pleasant morning outside.

Anyway, I’m not sure it’s quite a poem or if it’s more a piece of flash fiction, and I may at some point try to revise it a bit more (I still don’t think “commonplace comedians” is quite doing what I want) but anyhow, here’s “November:”

“November”

by Stephanie Flint

I am angry.

I will wreck your ships.

I will send your leaves plummeting to frostbit dirt. Gray grass shall be buried under their damp blankets, and what pale green that strives to remain shall wither under desolate quilts of brown and yellow.

I will knock aside your trash bins and claim your forlorn cardboard boxes of stale, leftover pizza.

These will tumble and toss and fly, fly into my airspace, and you shall not know where they have been sent. They will fade a cold, dreary death into the grasp of winter; be forgotten.

But you will not forget me.

Grand men will tell tales to immortalize those lost to the wrecks. Lovely women will sing of lost leaves and clinging hopes. Commonplace comedians will provide needed laughter by recalling trash bins long tumbled past Sally’s yard.

The pizza, though, will be lost forever.

You will remember my gales of November.

As a note… the little bits of inspiration that I was picturing when I wrote this:

“The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald” by Gordon Lightfoot

“The Last Leaf” by Blackmore’s Night

“Trash Can Wind Meters” as seen on FacebookA reference both to the Fifth of November poem (which I know more from V for Vendetta than knowing the actual poem) and another reference to “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald”

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Happy reading and writing! 📚

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Flash Fiction – The Bird on the Candy Dish

Isaac challenged me to write a piece of flash fiction with the prompt: “A trick-or-treating child walks up to where bird sits on a candy dish. The bird speaks. What does it say?”

Since I’m supposed to be taking a break today (that is, not working on any of the main projects or “work” stuff, and I am notoriously bad at taking a break), I gave it a shot.

This is the result. 😊

🍬 The Bird on the Candy Dish 🍬

A child waddles to their neighbor’s doorstep, their pumpkin costume bejeweled in sequins the eerie color of glow-in-the-dark stars, which have basked in an open window on a cold, sunny day. Red-tinted leaves rattle-tumble across the broken sidewalk, and the brisk air smells of coming storms and batches of apple cider.

Two concrete steps past the skeleton that rears its plastic hand from a mulched grave, the child finds a rusty wrought iron table covered by a fluttering orange sheet. A bowl painted in black cats and candy corn reveals the prize: candy in glossy wrappers that reflect the rafters’ twinkling orange and purple lights.

Despite the offer of candy, the child hesitates, their glowing pumpkin costume swinging at their ankles. A raven sits atop the bowl, preening shining black feathers. It turns a sharp eye to the child. “Beware… take only one piece of candy, or doom shall befall you and your friends!”

The child stares. Because birds usually don’t speak, its warning seems more important than when a guardian admonishes them not to take a second cookie from the bag. “Okay,” the child squeaks, and snags a single chocolate-covered peanut butter treat from the bowl before waddling back down the step and to the sidewalk.

The raven sighs. It had rather hoped for a more exciting night.

Maybe the next child will ignore its warning.

🎃

I hope you enjoyed the story! 😃

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