Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “mini/maxi.” Use “mini” (the smallest of something) or “maxi” (the largest) or both in your post. Have fun!
When I was just a girl, A Mini was my dream A little car to pootle about in I'd polish it to a gleam
I also wanted to wear one Not the car, the miniskirt But I was always worried I'd get accosted by a pervert!
These days I prefer a larger car To cart the family everywhere And I don't do the car wash That's the kids' nightmare!
And as for those miniskirts, I've not the legs, no more So a maxi works just fine A skirt down to the floor!
December 10, 2020, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about something a character never dreamed would happen. The situation can be fortuitous, funny, or disappointing. Go where the prompt leads!
Sasha sat down at the nearest table. There was no space closer to the front, but she was more than happy with that.
Being the centre of attention was not her thing. In fact, she wouldn’t have even been here at all, if it wasn’t for her boss, insisting she showed up. Corporate events were the worst kind of evil, and business awards, even more so.
Swirling the champagne in her flute around, she tuned into the speaker’s voice.
“And the award for the most loyal employee goes to…. Sasha Smith!”
Ronovan’s Decima Challenge: (KNOCK) in the A rhyme line.
Do You Believe?
Shhh! Quiet. Did you hear that knock?
Do you really think that he’s here?
If I look, will he disappear?
I don’t want to give him a shock
Yes, I believe, though my friends mock
They laugh at me, but they don’t know
He’s the real reason for my glow
While others wait, on Christmas eve
I dream, each night, and I believe
That Santa Claus, well, he’s my beau!
Ritu 2020
“My roots are firmly in the ground, where my ancestors’ blood, sweat and tears can be found
Ritu Bhathal
I can’t leave this week with just one line.
Have you read about the protest happening in India, right now? It is the biggest peaceful protests in human history, yet it has not been publicised on Western Media channels.
250 MILLION people, farmers from all corners of India, but starting from the Punjab, have been walking to Delhi, to stand up to the PM, Modi, and his government.
And they march, peacefully, to dispute three bills that have been passed. Bills that will kill farming, if they stay.
I am no expert, but here are some simple slides on Insta that may help.
Peaceful protests, yet they are facing police brutality, and water cannons. These same people are the ones offering tired and hungry police officers on duty, food and water. Any media that has been put out there seems to have been tampered with, or used out of context, to make the farmers look aggressive and unruly, but the reality is totally different.
I come from the Punjab, originally. My ancestors worked hard, and we still have family there, farming the land. They worked hard, to send other members of the family out into the world. My family ended up in Kenya, where they farmed some more. True, I don’t live a farming life, and I never had, but it is thanks to my ancestors, and their hard work, that I am where I am, today.
Otherwise I might have been one of those women marching, peacefully, among the millions of others.
Protesting for rights, a minimum wage, and to waive away the threat of having ancestral land snatched away…
I wrote a poem.
I always do.
If you kept reading this far, I hope you read, and feel, it.
My roots are firmly in the ground
Where my ancestors’ blood, sweat and tears can be found
Through me runs the blood of a Punjabi Kisaan
His livelihood, his family and farm
Those humble beginnings bore fruit untold
Backbreaking work, and dreams so bold
Those dreams sent our people far and wide
Farming the world with our family pride
My roots are firmly in the ground
Where my ancestors’ blood, sweat and tears can be found
Yet now Indian farmers suffer, in silence
Protesting in peace, requesting no violence
Ancestral rights being swiped from the souls
Of farmers in India’s very own ‘Food Bowl’
Poverty beckoning, no-one listening
Men, women, children march, tears glistening
Soldiering on, just wanting their rights
Instead, the Police tries to provoke fights
My roots are firmly in the ground
Where my ancestors’ blood, sweat and tears can be found
They only want fairness and the right to live
Come on Modi, start talking, you need to give
BLM happened – the world was involved
But what about now? Responsibility absolved?
I sit in comfort, lamenting the news
But to sit quietly, that I refuse
My roots are firmly in the ground
Where my ancestors’ blood, sweat and tears can be found
But I Smile Anyway... 