“Under the Full Moon,” Flash Fiction

The May 20, 2021, Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about naked gardening. Is it the veggies or the gardener who is naked? Go where the prompt leads!

Respond by May 25, 2021. Use the comment section below to share, read, and be social. You may leave a link, pingback, or story in the comments. If you want to be published in the weekly collection, please use the form on the challenge post.  Rules & Guidelines.


“Under the Full Moon”

The moon’s glow washed over my garden, lighting up the angelica, feverfew, and mugwort shimmering with healing energy. I gathered my tools and prepared for my early summer gardening ritual. I stripped naked and danced under the full moon.

My garden produced an amazing number of herbs from this tradition. I sold these herbs for sacred baths, teas, and tinctures, and even sewed them into spell bags.

Naked gardening imbued my herbs with strong magick. For years, I’d kept this secret under wraps—literally! Until today when a camera flash exploded in front of me! My secret was out!

Saddle Up Saloon: Double Ennead Challenge No. 2, Recap

Hello everyone! I’ve found an amazing group of poets at Carrot Ranch.com where every third Monday of the month, I host the Double Ennead Challenge as a guest at the Saddle Up Saloon.

Follow the link to last month’s challenge.

What’s a double ennead? The Double Ennead comprises five lines with a syllable count of 6/5/11/6/5, (33 SYLLABLES per stanza) 3 STANZAS EACH = 99 SYLLABLES, NO MORE, NO LESS! Punctuation and rhyme schemes are optional and up to the poet.

This month, I asked the poets to use the theme of “spring” to compose their double ennead poem.

Here are the poems from the March 15th challenge:

"Spring Sprung"

Sol sat solo, silent,
in his melting cell,
hatching his plan to flee his hibernation,
bring Winter’s reign down and
turn freeze into free.

Summer would soon follow,
(he would scorch the earth)
but a more compelling task was now at hand,
bring life to seeming dead
seeds in fertile earth.

‘Arise the Thor of thaw.’
‘Freedom’ did he cry.
He rent the prison’s icy bars asunder,
re-leaved trees in green and
set the waters free.

Doug Jacquier

Pristine snow spring melted,
Now a bubbly froth,
A Cerulean cascade down lush valleys,
Pebbled symphonic waltz,
A welcome deluge.

Arid lands guzzled dry,
Pure manna sullied,
And guillotined by man’s endless avarice,
A limping stagnant slush,
Meeting Mother Sea

Lost in wide blue chiasm,
Defiled drops looked up,
Warmed under the blue canopy of white clouds,
They Rose to be purged clean,

The IndieShe

Turkeys scratch, hunger led
still sharp, winter’s edge,
where frost yet clings, in the face of coming spring
Sun days, trees pulse with sap
icy winds end that;

swirling squalls, freezing cold
reigning season, bold
winter rages defiant, violent bursts
Tireless sun adamant;
winter, worn, relents;

gritty wet, grainy snow
muddy patches show
at last warmth sustained; emerging shoots, ground gained
Turkeys scratch, hunger led
spring’s sprung; they’ll be fed

D. Avery
A Different Spring Cleaning?
(Airing Out the Attic)

Sprang quickly at the dawn
In winter’s last chill ~
They began stripping the old roofs’ shingles quick
Prepping for more repairs;
One; Fan removal

Two; some minor chimney
Pointing and three one
Replacement skylight; bangs and squeaks assault ears
I may sneak out to shop
For some quiet time

And while they’re up there
Hubby’s got a plan
To add insulation in the attic eaves
Where once heat was leaking ~
Happy when all’s done!

"SPRING 2021"

For one winter moment,
one brief twilight still,
the snowline draping the sills of the far peaks,
the chill, dark and troubling,
I worry for spring.

In the depth of its dark,
the veil of its night,
the slight season stirs, stretches the coming blush,
the grace of its entry,
a repose of rain.

Each season has its way,
Its own gift to give.
Spring proffers change, rebirth, earth sprouting anew,
a courtesan of hues,
a bountiful bliss.

Bill Engleson
"Laughter Can Move Mountains"

I put out the bird seed
But the Squirrels come
I am mad as I refill the feeder again
I see one lovely finch
It makes me happy

The squirrels soon comeback
Breaking the feeder
I must purchase a new squirrel proof feeder
I fill it with more seed
Darn tree rats eat it

My feeder stopped nothing
One bird have I seen
Returning to the store I buy something else
I sit with my new gun
And wait for squirrels

Mr. Oh's Sideways View (from comments)
"The Swamp" (Double Ennead for Donna)

Springtime is now in bloom.
Down in Jacksonville,
Buttonwood, black gum, cypress on full display,
with moss hanging, heirloom.
(Land of no good will.)

Sunlight settles, diffused.
Hear claws scrape on bark;
be they lizards on the prowl, or a swamp owl,
no missed step is excused.
(Don’t be caught past dark.)

This ain’t no tourist trap;
best be passing through.
Gator rules roost, prehistoric land seduced.
Is this place on a map?
(Being bait just won’t do.)

Michael Todd (2021) from comments
"Spring Forward"

honeybees busily
mingle with flowers
a menagerie of pink, white and blue blooms
reminders of springtime

and warm sunny days
the wintry days of life
a mindset chiller
yet seeing those first flowers raise our spirits
as we seek renewal
our thoughts flow humbly

golden nectar sweetened
by nature herself
as spring flowers pop out of their winter homes
their joy reaches our soul
sunshine fills our hearts

Eugis Milieu
"A Seasoned Fighter"

The leaves changing colors;
An incoming chill.
Nothing cold as the ice flowing through his veins.
Opening days of camp,
Peak at the right time.

While snow falls to the ground,
The gym’s windows steam.
The heavy bag’s softened with strikes like pistons.
He could do this all day,
Strength in stamina.

The freeze begins to thaw;
Springtime brings showtime.
Prizefighter pollinate the cage with violence.
His cardio proved king;
Off for summer fun!

MMA Storytime
"The Spring Music"

The earth gently opens
to show frail patterns
of leaves, green and purple, basking in their poise
before pulling back to
guard their sibling blooms.

Quails chatter in a calm
extinct birds’ language,
showing off their tanned wings to partners, hushing
at the delicious spray
of dew on their beaks.

Huge mountains and plains still
while oceans whisper,
as skies pour down, drenching tiny and huge lives
soaking the brownish sand
in colors of joy

"The Stirring"

It’s hard to be patient
While looking for growth,
After the dark, dismal, bareness in Winter,
When nothing germinates
And all seems shutdown.

As the sky lightens up
The warmth of the sun,
Encourages the very, first buds of Spring,
Green shoots stretch and poke through
And all seems hopeful.

Buds bloom into flowers
With tender respect,
Producing plentiful fruits throughout Summer,
Then, crops for the harvest
And … all seems at rest.

Laura McHarrie
"Spring On the Farm"

Notice the outside temp
Turn off the furnace
Lift up the windows, let the fresh air blow through
Hear the geese honking by
Snowbanks are all but gone

The fat sheep are lambing
Kid goats bound about
Spindly leg foals stick close to their mama’s side
Pollywogs will soon be
Swimming in the pond

The robins have returned
Goldfinches yellow
The rooster struts around his harem of hens
The calves bleat loneliness
Tis spring on the farm

Sue Spitulnik from comments
"Spring has Sprung"

looking out the window
I gazed in wonder
a carpet of blue stretching out beyond view
a blanket under trees

it took my breath away
this blue tapestry
trees standing tall, arms outstretched giving them shade
a fantasy playground 
on the other side

I could feel the magic
beauty, spellbinding
down on their level, were they hiding in there?
the fairies must be there
just not visible

Ruth Scribbles

Many thanks to everyone who took part in this challenge. Your creativity is inspiring! Writing poetry makes us better writers! As Rebecca Hussey says in the BookRiot article entitled, An English Professor’s Perspective on Hating Poetry:

“…Poetry is about experiencing language more than understanding it, it’s about playing with language rather than mastering it, it’s about creativity and expression rather than knowledge…”

Bookriot.com: Hating Poetry

I’ll be back at the Saloon, on Monday, April 19th! Join in and get your syllabic poetry on!

“The River of Life,” #DoubleEnnead & #Flashfiction

This 99-word story prompt from Carrot Ranch will be posted and presented to Sue Vincent on February 17. If you want to be included in this special collection, respond through the form HERE.

The January 28, 2021, Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about life as a river of consciousness. Think about the possibilities of the prompt. Go where the prompt leads!

Respond by February 11, 2021.

dawn reflections shimmer
a blood-red birthing
the new journey meanders in small ripples
searching for a known truth
testing the waters
a small stream traverses
the land, growth is key
consciousness actuates a forward passage
as water rushes fast,
over stones ahead
From the sun's dying light
the darkness succumbs
to the passage of time, the river still flows
in the celebration 
of a life well lived

©2021 Colleen M. Chesebro

The Double Ennead comprises five lines with a syllable count of 6/5/11/6/5, (33 SYLLABLES per stanza) 3 STANZAS EACH = 99 SYLLABLES, NO MORE, NO LESS!

The old gods had stood sentinel over the Grand River for as far back as I could remember. The water that cut through the forest of towering trees emptied into the icy depths of Lake Michigan downstream.

In winter, ice froze her glassy surface. In summer, the quiet drone of insects filled the air as they danced on her waves. Teeming with fish, the crystal waters surged with the pulse of life, never ending in an eternal circle of life and death.

For me, this ancient river had no beginning and no end, only the steadfast current of living.

©2021 Colleen M. Chesebro