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Buttercup16
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4 Posts • 15 Followers • 9 Following
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Buttercup16

Black Beauty

Do you ever remember reading Black Beauty.

It is still my favorite book.

Have you ever had and animal.

That you had to sell that was like your BFF

If I had my Black Beauty he and I would still

race in the woods, swim in the creek, go for trail rides,

Race cars up and down the street, but you know what

It doesn't even have to be a horse because I'm certain that

At least once you raised or became that Black Beauty's Girl

Or Boy.

Challenge
Word Play: NOT Gardening
Use the following 12 words: root, spade, till, seed, water, dig, hoe, hardy, grow, pick, flowering, fruit but THEY CAN IN NO WAY REFER TO ANYTHING/SITUATION RELATED TO GARDENING. Any format. 300 word MAX.
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Buttercup16 in Stream of Consciousness

All of it

I pick it all

A flowering fruit of love

The root of a relationship

The spade of one to ten

Growing anything is hard I know

But as things till down

It is hard to dig the lies

The hardy bits of this are broke

Now the water has washed the seeds of love away

So hoe away my heart into bits.

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Buttercup16

All it takes

A hoof beat is all it takes

For a girl to love

With trauma far behind her

All that was scarred is hidden

But this time with love

A breath is all it takes

the fresh air to help

the pain go away

A swish of a tail and shake of a Mane is all it takes

with a love so strong and a bond

unbreakable we are the toughest of them

The eyes are the best and so is the feel.

The softest part of your withers,

Your fetlock and your hocks so silky

Can you tell how I have flown

On such a beat as this

because after all

A hoof beat is all it takes.

Challenge
Challenge of the Month XXXVIII
Alright, you beautiful maniacs: Pick a writer on Prose. with whom to collaborate on a short story. The winning badasses will receive $100 each to their PayPal or Venmo or whatever they use. No rules, just write it. The winners will be decided by the most likes this time around: ...and....GO.
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Buttercup16

Name

They look at me.

All mushed up faces into one.

What is your name? yells a man.

Your ugly says another

But all I see is a young girl.

Hiding under a weeping willow.

Her Mothers grave to the left,

Her Fathers to the right,

Her little brothers under her.

She sits there and cries.

Food is thrown.

She is called unspeakable names.

I walk up.

And she disappears,

I was to late.

She was to young.

I was to young.

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