What's Your Next Six Word Story?

Hands firmly on the steering wheel
One eye on the open road
Reach over and shut it off
If traffic or traffic light near
 
Nestled between roots, large and small,
After following the long uneven trunk,
My eyes unfocus in the folliage,
Hypnotised by the gentle flowing movement.

I am searching for that place,
Where I had found inner peace,
If not the contentment I seeked,
At least a modicum of stability.

Why not leave well enough alone?
Damned those windmills! Such unresistible attractions.
I tilted at one too many
Once again and disappointed another friend.

I watch the soft puffy clouds,
Suspend knowledge and substitute my imagination,
No more real than I, truly,
But beauty well worth dwelving into.
 
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‘Tis the season

The crowds, the jostling, the confusion.
Why oh why is this necessary?
Year after year of meaningless suffering.
It’s torture, pure and simple agony.

My warm and quiet house awaits.
Peace and harmony achieved over time.
Wonderful smells of fresh cut boughs.
The sweetness of cooling Christmas cookies.

Tears well in my tired eyes
As I spot the waiting lines
I will have to brave again
With two more stores to go.

A squeal escapes my sore throat
As strong arms enfold my waist
Then sneak inside my open coat
To cup and fondle my breasts.

A sigh follows, unbidden in relief.
Only one would dare do that
In a public venue like this
Flaps close over her knowing hands.

She did teach me long ago
That our love was not shameful.
I accepted it with great difficulty,
But had to acknowledge this truth.

I turn around in her arms,
To wrap mine around her neck.
Damn those prejudiced fuckers who sneer.
She’s my beautiful and adored wife.

All those long hours out here,
The days of preparation at home,
These are only a little sacrifice
To show my love and devotion.
 
Rabble at some point rules changed
number of lines do not matter
six words per line does matter
 
One finds new friends so unexpectedly.
A chance encounter, a business conversation,
Extra words to reveal private thoughts
Unbidden and certainly unplanned, even unwanted.

Surprise, interests shared do come out
And a half-hour turns into two.
Two similar minds meet with glee.
A contact, a connection, hopefully useful.

No matter, the simple encounter rocks.
Where it leads is almost irrelevant
For the simply joy of sharing
Ideas, thoughts, experiences, dreams and hopes.
 
First arousal, then the story comes.
It's not that kind of story,
Though I do wish it was.

Professionally, ours is a small world.
That's the connection between us two.

Whether it leads anywhere at all,
Only time will tell me that.

I don't care either way really.
The conversation was pleasant by itself.
 
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Morphine barely alleviates excruciating pain.
Mind-numbed, I feel strangely disconnected,
Like the nervous link is broken
Between my brain and my fingers.

Baby steps, I'm told, baby steps
Are the way to be rehabilitated
To the dream state, to share,
Again to surf the writing stream.

So here I stroke my keyboard,
Darkening the white page with words
Sharing my thoughts, my inner self
With others of a similar bent.


4x6x3
 
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Swishing is an apt descriptive word
For the sexy body before me
As I walk along, duly mesmerized.

Shapely legs made even more so.
Buttocks rolling do titillate the senses.
Breasts jutting from the changed posture.

Love a woman in high heels.
 
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