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Feralbeetle
aspiring entomologist and writer
37 Posts • 26 Followers • 3 Following
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Books
Challenge
The Life of the Potted Plant
Poetry or Prose
Profile avatar image for Sandlot
Sandlot in Stream of Consciousness

The Value of Plant Life

When the conversation

turns ugly,

veers into

politics,

steers toward

my-way-or-

the-highway

rhetoric,

I often

become that

potted plant

and quietly

fade out of

a hostile conversation.

I choose my battles

carefully,

unwilling to

jeopardize

a friendship

or kinship

just to make

a fleeting,

meaningless

observation.

If only others

would opt for

a plant's life

when choosing battles.

Challenge
The Life of the Potted Plant
Poetry or Prose
Profile avatar image for flashgordon
flashgordon in Stream of Consciousness

as plants grow toward the sun

so I grow toward you.

why could you not care for me

as you did your philodendrons

turning me from time to time

so

I could have grown tall & strong

instead of spindly gangling weak

& ultimately unable

to survive our slaughtering sunset?

Challenge
Kinetic Writing
I have run across Kinetic Art again recently and it made me wonder about the possibility of kinetics being applied to the written art form. In the visual arts it is not so much about a "moving" picture or words like in film media, but about the illusion generated by the movement of the viewer around a static artwork. Could this be done with poetry or prose? Enter an attempt if you like :)
Profile avatar image for pizzamind
pizzamind in Words

First, After

She checked the time.

Checked her phone.

Checked the door.

Checked her reflection.

He’s not late.

He’s not late.

He’s not—

coming?

Stop.

That’s not fair.

Be fair.

You said you'd try.

He wanted sushi.

You picked Italian.

Like the rehearsal night—

the last thing he ate.

It’s not a test.

It’s not betrayal.

It’s just dinner.

Just—

She touched the napkin.

Her ring finger twitched.

Don’t think of rings.

Don’t think of ash.

He said we could wait.

He said stay home.

He said not today.

She said

Hawaii.

No weather warnings.

No second thoughts.

No life vests.

No—

wedding.

The wine list blurred.

Waves on white paper.

She didn’t drink anymore.

She did.

After.

What if he’s kind?

What if he’s dull?

What if he dies too—

and it’s her fault

again?

She practiced hello.

Practiced her laugh.

Practiced surviving.

Didn’t

practice this.

She almost left.

She almost stayed.

She almost

believed.

He’s late.

He’s not late.

He’s not—

Hi.

Sorry—traffic.

She blinked.

Breathed.

Smiled.

It’s okay.

I just got here.

Challenge
"I want to write a novel about silence. The things people don't say." - Virginia Woolf
Say the thing(s) no one wants to. Any form.
Profile avatar image for bob_ross_fan
bob_ross_fan

Modest rant

I don't want to be here

Yes that top looks bad

Can I please go home?

I don't care about the dream you had

Your kids are not special

They have no talent at all

I'm tired or pleasantries

I'd rather just look at the wall

I just want to be alone

So please, please be quiet

Humanity in its true form

Is an uncanny, insufferable riot

And what do you think?

I know you've never heard me

Too busy with your musings

Of how nothing is truly free

No one contributes anymore

Instead we only complain

Our projected woes

Falling steady like the rain

What if no one cares?

I can't say that I do

Humanity is incapable of change

The statement bitter but true

So please take your shoes

And your stupid mason jars

Get out of my house, get out of my sight

Go tell it to the stars

Challenge
"I want to write a novel about silence. The things people don't say." - Virginia Woolf
Say the thing(s) no one wants to. Any form.
AJJ

There, There

Yes it's your fault, you knew what they were like from the beginning. You threw yourself into the abyss of love for someone who'd watch you fall. You tossed away everything of value in your life to make space for them. You rearranged your plans and sacrificed your future for someone unwilling to make the slightest change for you. You claimed love was enough but in the end it wasn't. We warned you that this would happen. That one day it would be over and you'd be left holding the pieces, staring ahead at what your life could have been. Now the day has come and we can't even say a word to you because it could send you over the edge. So I say it here to the blank page "I told you so".

Challenge
Mirror You, Mirror Me
We are so rarely seen as we really are. Mirrors only reflect the reversal of our image. Imagine the world in which your reverse self in the mirror inhabits. Allow your mirror self to completely embody the dark side of your nature that you would never actualize in this reality. Don't hold back. Be honest with your darkness. Change your name if necessary. Win goes to whoever excites the animus the most.
Profile avatar image for 7v7
7v7 in Fiction

Animus

What looks at me from the mirror

speaks in backwards

tongue

I say "hi,"

The mirror listens

and says, "I."

"Aye...!?!" I ask

my reflection in horror

the mirror answers

in short,

"Eye."

I look more closely

crossing both my eyes

vainly

wondering which one

the right or the left?

I turn east and west

and the mirror

shakes its head.

04.12.2025

Mirror You, Mirror Me challenge @Bunny

Challenge
Mirror You, Mirror Me
We are so rarely seen as we really are. Mirrors only reflect the reversal of our image. Imagine the world in which your reverse self in the mirror inhabits. Allow your mirror self to completely embody the dark side of your nature that you would never actualize in this reality. Don't hold back. Be honest with your darkness. Change your name if necessary. Win goes to whoever excites the animus the most.
AJJ in Fiction

Necessary Skills

I am the same but also so different. What has changed? It's not what's inside but my actions. I stare at my other self through a haze as I do the things I spent my lifetime being taught to hold back. My words are what they would consider mean but I feel are honest. I've always felt I should voice them but was restrained, not by conscience but by training. "Don't say those sort of things they hurt people" I don't understand why they would but obey my mothers orders. "Hold back, repress it, if you can't change what's inside at least don't show it. You can't wince when people hug you, it's mean. You can't be disgusted when someone gives a simple kiss on the cheek. You can't tell people the truth so matter of factly, it needs to be softened. You can't live your life in silence in a corner watching but not engaging. Even if you hate it power through and live normally as you can."

I watch the person who didn't learn these lessons they are not loved like I am. I am unsure how I feel about that. Am I that unlikable beneath my facade, in my natural state? Do I even care? Deep down I'm not sure if I should thank or hate Mom for my lessons. The other me is alone but deep down I honestly believe they are happier.

Profile avatar image for thWanderer
thWanderer in Stream of Consciousness

Ancestors

Every time I see something about ancestors being proud of you, about you being their gift to the future I think this:

No, I'm their abomination, the child they never wished to be, the end of the world as they knew it, I am queer and the fact that me, that, originated from them, makes them roll in their graves and I love it. I have learned to feed off their despair and discontent, turning it to love instead of desperation. I use this knowledge to love those like me: the abominations of this world that only ever wanted a home.

I remember this and I keep walking, I keep loving, I hoping hoping out of spite. I keep trying to make this world a better place as revenge. It spurs from anger. My ancestors were colonizers and I have dedicated my life to undoing everything they ever did. I hope they feel worthless and unloved. I hope they watch their own culture of domination disapear, just as they did to so many others. I hope they watch, as I, their descendent, do what they never could, and turn their dreams of a new world into a pile of ash.

Cover image for post The Sufferance of CPTSD, by Dionysian66
Profile avatar image for Dionysian66
Dionysian66 in Poetry & Free Verse

The Sufferance of CPTSD

Sudden flashbacks

Atrocious memories

See the innocent child

Hiding from a parent

That he loves

And loathes

Witness

The erasure of hope

He’s given up praying

Nonstop horror

Has a way of

Removing faith

Challenge
Conquer or Concur
poetry or prose on the handling of fear(s)
Profile avatar image for modugg
modugg in Words

Recurrent

Feelings come and go in waves, but sometimes I catch a feeling that feels like it belongs to someone else. Strange and consuming. Alarming and looming. It creeps in like sepia in a frame and I become an audience of reality. I am removed and paralyzed. Like a dream clasped in demons claws, the world becomes overwhelming in waking stillness. There is no true threat, only a pulling at the back of my mind. An intuition of what's to come. Or what has been. If only I could remember to breathe. I sit with my hands in my lap and watch as it passes me by. I have survived a moment of all consuming doom. A treachery of the consciousness that passes as quickly as it comes on. Not a soul reacts to my own personality earthquake and I am left shaken. All I can do is stand and move forward. Stay resilient until the memory is triggered by a sister event, much easier to conquer. The only real way out is through.