Poetry

Faltered Kiss

/ Liz H-H / 2 Comments
Goofy headshot of the author, surprised. Hello!

Join us for a weekly blog party in Six Sentence Stories, hosted by Denise and attended by some mighty fine, fun folk. Prompt word=FLAG. Read, write and come back for more  SIX SENTENCE STORIES.   This is all I got for you right now!

My head is hot, tight—gimme a squeeze and my eyeballs will pop,
Plop into the space that separates your body from mine—
You’d burn from the kiss I might steal were I not so sick.
But it’s all right.

No COVID, nor RSD, too intense for a simple head cold,
Which leaves us with a self-diagnosis of sinus infection or flu:
My joints ache and skin hurts as my main meals are swallowed snot.
This too shall pass.

My body mocks me, a sneeze five minutes before a trail of snot slides down my chin
Like tears, soaking the already moist (ew) tissue grabbed up,
Then discarded back onto the pile of other wet ones.
Let’s flag kisses for later, Dear; will you still love me tomorrow—
Well, next week?

© Liz Husebye Hartmann (2026)

Watcher Doings 38 (Bonus third!)

/ Liz H-H / 20 Comments
juicy tangerine wedges

Join us for a weekly blog party in Six Sentence Stories, hosted by Denise and attended by some mighty fine, fun folk. Prompt word=SWING. Read, write and come back for more  SIX SENTENCE STORIES.   (Link goes active Wed night).

And so the deal was struck, no papers signed, no ink,
The watchers called for protection spells:
Ones built on love and trust and luck.
Montay’d practiced widening shift, forms Ferah’d never kenned,
Per Jimman’s skilled direction: games in wild pleasure meant
Montay the fool was well and truly fucked.

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So Long, Farewell

/ Liz H-H / 15 Comments
© Ayr/Gray

Many thanks to Jenne Gray and C.E. Ayr for their photo prompt, THE UNICORN CHALLENGE.  (07/18/2025). No more than 250 words in length.

The room is cool, a soothing respite from the blistering heat outside its door. Her bare feet shuffle across the smooth wood floor. She reviews each object of art: bucolic landscapes, highland towers, night streets, dawning oceans. Paintings stop in interesting places, to continue with other voices, other rooms. Perhaps a novel, or love-lost poem?

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MN Jam

/ Liz H-H / 6 Comments
A refirgerator jam on making jam. Strawberries, ruhubarb, and Goddess, thou art tongue drunk!

Rhubarb from the DIL, strawberries fresh & light from the grocer. So of course, putting by jam for winter, but with a taste for right now! And refrigerator magnet poetry while the jars seal in a boiling water bath.