Sunday Photo Fiction — The Picture Frame

AEE8322B-1ACE-4199-8393-22AD9D38D9D3Alice and her husband were going through her father’s attic a few days after his passing. “Michael,” she said, “come look at this.” She was holding up a large picture frame with what appeared to be detailed engraving on it.”

“That’s beautiful,” Michael said. “It looks like a carving of Don Quixote tilting at windmills.” Michael grabbed the frame. “It doesn’t look like it was signed by the engraver and there’s no plaque.” He handed the frame back to Alice.

“This is a really thick, heavy frame, isn’t it?” Alice said, shaking it slightly. “I think there’s something behind the engraving.” She tore at the brown paper on the backside of the frame. Inside she discovered a leather-wrapped sheath of papers. She opened up the sheath and gasped.

“Michael, look at this.” Alice held up the first page. It read:

The Windmills of My Mind
By Andrew Price

“What is it?” Michael asked.

“These seem to my dad’s writings and pencil sketches. Some prose, some poetry,” Alice said. “These are amazing. They’re really good, Michael. They seem to be autobiographical, too. Some date back to when he was a young man.

“What a treasure,” Michael said.

(198 words)

Written for today’s Sunday Photo Fiction prompt. Image credit: C E Ayr.

#JusJoJan — Boisterous Ben


Boisterous Ben was noisy and loud

As if he was always talking to a crowd

He described himself as a fellow jolly

When what he was was rough and rowdy

Ben thought of himself as quite glamorous

But Ben’s demeanor was highly clamorous

One day Ben’s wife had enough

And out the window she threw all his stuff

Written for today’s Just Jot It January prompt from Linda G. Hill. Today’s word is “boisterous,” as selected by Dan Antion over at No Facilities.

(And now you know why I don’t do poetry.)

My Life of Rhyme


I wake up
I wash up
I brew a cup

I log on
I blog on
I work on

I eat
I meet
I greet

I stare
I share
I care

I eat some more
I do a chore
I’m such a bore

I read some blogs
I drop some logs
I fix some clogs

I earn my pay
I end my day
I hit the hay

I am not a fan of poetry.

This post is a poem.

Or my version of poem.

It has no set meter.

But it has rhyme.

Albeit forced at times.

And it has stanzas.

So it is a poem.

Or not.

I don’t know.

I am not a fan of poetry.

Written for today’s one-word prompt, “rhyme.”

One-Liner Wednesday — Self Reflection

Robert Burns

“O wad some Power the giftie gie us
To see oursels as ithers see us!”

The great Scottish poet, Robert Burns, made this astute observation in his poem, To a Louse.

Now I’m not a big fan of poetry, but back in high school English lit class, we did have to study some of the world’s great poets, including the aforementioned Robert Burns. Of all of his poems we read, one poem, and one particular line in that poem — the one I’ve quoted at the top of this post — stood out to me.

For a more contemporary interpretation of the quoted text, it essentially means, “It would be great if we could somehow have the gift of being able to see ourselves the way other people see us.”

We really can’t see ourselves as others see us, can we? We see ourselves through our own perspectives, our own perceptions, and our own reality. Few of us can understand how we really come across to those around us or to the world.

Wouldn’t it be nice if, even for just an hour or a day, we could know how others view us? I think that seeing ourselves as others see us would be a gift, but perhaps it would actually be a burden. No doubt, though, it would be illuminating.

Maybe you wouldn’t like what you see.

Maybe such a “gift” would cause you to only say and do things that would please others.

Maybe it’s better to stay true to yourself and behave in a way that is natural to you, as an individual, regardless of how you are viewed by others.

In the end, I suppose there’s nothing wrong with a little self-reflection.

This post is for today’s One-Liner Wednesday prompt from Linda G. Hill.

A Poem


There once was a blogger named “Momus”

Who wrote his posts so that few would notice

Until he met Sight

And Sandi one night

But his attempt at poetry was still bogus

This totally inexcusable attempt at poetry was inspired by Sight and Sandi, who have taken up residence in, and have completely dominated, the comments section of several of my recent posts, and who also demanded that a poetry-hater like me take a shot at writing poetry. And so I did and here it is. See?

As a point of clarification, I’m Fandango, not Momus. However, it’s much harder to rhyme anything with Fandango than it is to rhyme with Momus. And Sight suggested in one of his many comments on one of my posts that I should change my name to Momus, who, for what it’s worth, was the personification of satire and mockery in Greek mythology. Ask him why, because it beats the shit out of me!