d’Verse Poetics-August- A Place on a Map

For today’s Poetics, I want you all to write a poem about August. Feel it in your bones. Come tell us what the month means to you. You can write about it in terms of weather and mood, write inspired by the examples shared above or opt to compose a darker, more philosophical piece. The choice is yours!

There you are, August,
One step below the ‘top’.
Stretched longest on my ‘map’
Born from a child’s viewpoint.

Lazily I’ll climb toward September along your pathway.

[ I was 60 years old before I found my answer to a lifelong question. “Doesn’t everybody visualize months of the year in a 3D realm?” After years of blank dumbfounded responses to my statements about “seeing” numbers, days of the week, and months of the year, in three dimensions, I found out that I have Spatial Sequence Synesthesia! Those with this viewpoint have uniquely individual “mental maps” of all kinds of sequences. It’s a fascinating gift/defect caused by overlapping senses. Children are born with overlapping senses but supposedly outgrow them. Not everyone! Synesthesia takes MANY forms. I encourage everyone to look it up.
As for my poem, the mention of any month draws an immediate visual personal response. I’ve attached a link to my former post on the topic.]


Fandango’s Flash Fiction Challenge- 1/31/22- Just a Job

Welcome to Fandango’s Flash Fiction Challenge. Each week I will be posting a photo I grab off the internet and challenging bloggers to write a flash fiction piece or a poem inspired by the photo. There are no style or word limits.


The photo below was provided by fellow blogger Deb @ Nope, Not Pam

Larry was having an uncomfortable workday. Snakes make most people nervous, but it was his job to meet and greet tourists as an emissary of Nature to challenge peoples’ biases.
He tried to remain calm, but he was also outside of his own comfort zone. People weren’t his favorite ‘animals’ either. The twenty-minute outing wouldn’t end soon enough!

Once back in the reptile house, Larry began to relax. Then he slithered under a heat lamp, curled up, and enjoyed every familiar aroma at the end of his forked tongue.