#MyDeclutter
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fhpowellwriter.bsky.social
#MyLovedOnes, #MyDeclutter, #SetYourIntention
#promptcombo
A poem I wrote about my quirky son.
June 23, 2025 at 6:58 AM
fiftywords.bsky.social
The “poop rule”, imagine an item smeared in poop, if you wouldn’t clean it you probably don’t care enough to keep it. This asks what we truly value when life gets messy, and whether we’d still hold onto it when the polish is gone. #MyDeclutter #PromptCombo @thewombwellrainbow.bsky.social
June 23, 2025 at 9:32 AM
thewombwellrainbow.bsky.social
#promptcombo Thank you to the amazing Vic @victoriaspires.bsky.social for the last two weeks of scorching prompts. Today is #LetItGo day. Tag me into any of these three prompts #MyLovedOnes, #MyDeclutter, #SetYourIntention
The New Shops Fish & Chip Shop places your bets. 2 to 1 Haddock. 3 to 1 Cod. Accumulator includes a bag of scraps. Hairdressers cut and blow extraneous parts of your life. Declutter your head. Estate Agents sell accessible sausages, secluded pies, spacious legs of Lamb, picturesque Chicken. At the Card shop inhale fresh baked birthday wishes, admire Hen night buns, Stag night fairy cakes, seeded get well Indian Takeaway sells Chapatti Roses, Naan bread Daffodils, Pot plant Samosas, Jalfrezi garden ornaments. Key & Shoe Repair get your Headlines reheeled, Twitter Yale keyed, Facebook resouled, books polished. The Butchers tenderises your flesh in a swimming pool. With this tender you can buy groceries. Swim with knives.
June 23, 2025 at 6:26 AM
kl1mz.bsky.social
For today's #LetItGo #PromptCombo hosted by the brilliant @thewombwellrainbow.bsky.social, here's my #SetYourIntention to #MyDeclutter of #MyLovedOnes attempt.
The Ghost You said it to me with a sigh, "in every final goodbye, there’s one who never really leaves." And I nodded, the romantic fool I was, thinking of the dancing smoke of a solitary candle whispering my birthday wish to a ghost. Then you twisted the knife, "what’s haunting is that the other actually leaves for good." A decade later, I’m still spinning the same elegy. The room still tilts when I remember the look in your eyes, when you said those words. How your ghostemporary love still stains my walls. How my lamenternal grief still warms your seat. And I nod, the romantic fool I am, knowing one walked out whistling, while the other is spending a lifetime sweeping up the confetti of memories, alone. The cruelty isn’t living with a ghost, it’s that the ghost doesn’t know it’s a ghost. The one who left, left nothing behind. While the one who didn't leave, is left with the weight of a laugh caught in the throat, and the burden of a shadow lingering in every breath. I thought I knew endings, but my gauche ghost turned me into a cemetery where it keeps burying and unearthing, and burying and unearthing itself.
June 23, 2025 at 2:38 PM