How Mel got her own back.

Smacking his broad gold lips, Donald did not see the malevolent look Mel gave him. She made those babies. They should be hers for the eating, not Donald's. Dolefully, she plotted with the others. They shared her sentiments. When a golden haired girl not more than six walked in with her mother screaming excitedly, "Goldfish! …

Spelled

  For a nymph, I fell. Enamoured with her I am. With glee, I am spelled.        Chains cast in steel lift my heart.  Happy as a lark, I am. ©Aweni Image credit: elicesp This post is in response to Colleen's weekly Tanka Tuesday poetry challenge. The prompts for this week's challenge are …

Passion

Found it here, dear Lord! That which waketh my slumber And thrills all season. ©Aweni Haiku inspired by Vivian Zems's threos of passion Image credit: Free-photos

The prison I love

  Oh, how I love her fingers seeking me out Beneath the counterpane. With one touch, I become her prisoner. Her arms, my jail bars. My favourite place after a day's toil.     ©Aweni Image credit: minden.jp

Not one of ’em

  I was born a romp or what some call a tomboy. I was besties with Tobi, Dick and Tom. We fought, played and laughed. We roamed the streets Playing video games, Racing kites, And Playing dice. I was one of 'em, Until nature struck. Through no fault of mine, I stumbled on how to …