I play with fire 🔥 🔥 ✨

I admire the fire

With fire, i never tire

If i said i did, id be a liar🔥

(Btw this writing is fire. It gets even better later, which may seem impossible to comprehend, but its true. I wish you luck on your reading journey)

I play with fire with my friend

But my friend has trick up sleeve

Friend play with water, put out my fire.

I so mad I want to leave.

(Sorry bad gr...

Then it was born

It unwrapped, then torn.

It cheered, then partied.

Until finally, the chill departed....

"You suck," Die-Ann said.

"I hate you," Rick-Ardo said.

"You're beautiful." Die-Ann said.

"I love you," Rick-Ardo said.

They divorced and remarried 11 times.

te end...

“That old lady always wears a red scarflette around her wrist, today we found out why…” Jane whisper-shouted to the other kids nestled in the darkness of their treehouse. The neighborhood gang of decade-old ne’er-do-wells called themselves the Nitwits, making the most out of another summer’s eve by exchanging creepy stories of the old folks next door.

Jane continued after a ghoulish pause. “Me an...

Berry Brown sought to save his town

For his father’s flame a bee did snub.

A shared condition of bee stings was ‘round

For that he started ‘Bee Allergy Club.’

In meetings, they told of sightings,

Wound treatings, whereabouts, and writings.

They gave support, ran member reports,

Told bee-themed tall tales quite nail-biting.

“Melted snow marked

the end of the season”

Berry brown remarked.

“Pollen...

The bones on Wartha’s hand tugged on her fingers like the strings of a marionette. She sprinkled in a dash of pigskin shavings and a touch or orangutan hair. The green elixer shown excitedly when the ingredients graced its surface, and was even more electric when stirred by Wartha’s ladle. Her elongated, knotty fingers wrapped around the misshapen wooden handle, cackling as the potion neared compl...

Then it grew.

It painted, then drew.

It received, then delivered.

Until finally, the chill withered....

I dont write on the page, the page writes on the quill. Its about the process not the journey.

The formation of words,

The foundation of stanzas,

The dribble of half-legible jarble

Is what makes it worth the wait.

To hell with the readers. I couldnt give less of a damn what you think. Huck-tpu! (spit sound effect) youre opinion rings no note in my formidable head.

For i an confident. The only ...

The quill to the page

The eye to the letter

The message left on hold

The story never told

Words without readers

Art without collectors

Clowns without a circus

Alone without a purpose

——

Thank you to Quill To Page for sponsoring today’s poem. Stay safe everyone...

Picture in your mind’s eye 2 characters: one named Maranda, and the other named Quinn, both of which so happen to stand near feet away from each other at the Insult Convention.

It is especially important to use your unbridled imagination to create this vivid and robust scene for the best reading experience. It may very well be that the quintessential Daily Prompt entry lies ahead through carefull...