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Friday

SOS for Supplicators

SOS for Supplicators

A young man who is quite dear to me, ever since his teen years, is in dire need of a liver transplant and another chance at a healthy and full life. Sober nearly two years, he is fighting for his health. His young bride-to-be and the rest of the family are praying fervently for him. Will you agree with us in interceding for Junior?


Re-liver Needed

A young lad

with lots of steam

became tangled

in proud traditions

and multi-generational webs,

allowing and enabling him

to land

between a rock and a hard place.

Now, mid-thirties,

he needs a liver.

He needs hope.

He needs another chance.

He needs the touch of the Lord.

(Who doesn’t?)

Praying for Junior.


Posted for a variety of prompts:

Easy Street Prompts (“a rock and a hard place”)

Friday Flash-55 (55 words)

Heads or Tails (“steam”)

Meme Express (“proud”)

One Single Impression (“allow”)


Love poetry? Check out Simply Snickers, a brand-new weekly poetry prompt. Try your hand with weekly prompts! Or, look into The Meme Express for daily blogging prompts.


Click here to visit Linda Ann Nickerson’s poetry and humor blog, Nickers and Ink.


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Sunday

The MonSter of MayhemS


-->
The MonSter of MayhemS

The MonSter of MayhemS may rattle my cage.
With treMorS primordial, he bares his rage.
Till nerves are a MeSs,
In full-blown M.S.,
And athletic skills overnight disengage.
This whamMy of woeS will allow none to quit,
Though stress seismological he may commit.
As Myelin shedS,
Surpassing all dreads,
No reMedieS ready Make Struggles legit.

c2009 by Linda Ann Nickerson

Please join us in praying for a cure!

Posted for a variety of prompts:

Easy Street Prompts (“seismological whammy”)
Friday Flash-55 (55 words)
One Single Impression (“allow”)
Weekend Wordsmith (“quit”)

Are We There Yet?

Are We There Yet?



Staying the Course –

Limericked Relations of Summer Vacations


All summer, the children sing this short refrain,

As parents speed up in the no-passing lane:

“Are we there yet, please?”

Youngsters whine for their ease,

While Moms and Dads rub on their foreheads in pain.


The motorized waiting rooms rock with the tar,

Adults at the wheel of each family car.

With kids in the back,

A panic attack

Does enter the realm ‘ere the clans travel far.


Regarding the right of each grownup to vow,

Though little ones chirp for a bathroom and chow –

The road still may bend

To summer’s near end,

When schools may all parents a rest stop allow.


Posted for a variety of prompts:

Easy Street Prompts (“waiting room”)

Meme Express (Invitation to Simply Snickers)

One Single Impression (“allow”)

Simply Snickers (“realm,” “regard” and “right”)

Sunday Scribblings (“adult”)

Weekend Wordsmith (“quit”)


Love poetry? Check out Simply Snickers, a brand-new weekly poetry prompt. Try your hand with weekly prompts! Or, look into The Meme Express for daily blogging prompts.


Click here to visit Linda Ann Nickerson’s poetry and humor blog, Nickers and Ink.


Click here to subscribe to an RSS feed for this writer's helpful Helium content. If you wish, click here for a free subscription to this author's online AC content, so you won't miss a single post!


Add to Technorati Favorites

Saturday

Woodstock . . . or Busted?


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Woodstock . . . or Busted?

This week marks the 40th anniversary of the legendary Woodstock Music and Art Fair, held in upstate New York in 1969. A family question is revisited . . .

Posted for a variety of prompts:
Heads or Tails (“note”)

Returning to the Festival
A Rhyming Note on Times Remote

My sister still won’t spill the yarn
Of frolics on an upstate farm.
She claimed to drop in on a friend,
Whose parents may the myst'ry end.

Yet posters autographed tell tale,
Although she likely didn’t inhale.
The legend lives, nigh 40 years,
Despite authorities’ stark fears.

Aquarians and others swarmed,
Although the Over-30’s warned.
‘Mid mud and mayhem, they did sit,
The first original mosh pit.

As Fenders wailed, the hippies swayed,
In tie-dyed tees and jeans a-fade.
Through mystic clouds, crowds held their breaths –
Two infants birthed and two sad deaths.

They chanted worldwide love and peace,
Demanding amnesty, release.
Perhaps their message bears a truth,
As global change may rest with youth.

Though I this festival did miss,
And I the crowd might find not bliss,
I must admit, I’ll sing along
With those who peace may preach in song.


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