T.G.I.F. 11/08/19
Hello! Welcome to T.G.I.F. 

What this is:

 A new prompt will be posted every Friday.  Everyone is welcome to participate in this thread at any time, no restrictions apply.  Don't overthink the prompts, just let loose and have a bit of fun. Big Grin 

How it Works: 

1. Write a poem on the suggested topic using the form described.  (However, the prompt is more like guidelines, not a hard and fast rule.)
2. Each poem should appear as a separate reply to this thread.
3. The goal is to have FUN!!!   Comments, kudos, and questions are welcome responses.

Friday, November 8, 2019

Topic: “Untouchable   Write about something that is (or used to be, or will always be) out of reach. 

Form: any

Line Requirement:  any 

If you have prompt suggestions, feel free to pm your ideas to Quix. .   Big Grin 
The Soufflé isn’t the soufflé; the soufflé is the recipe. --Clara 
No Tag-Backs in this Game

Light touches us on lips,
on shoulders, not alone on eyes;
we cannot touch light back
without first intercepting it
to turn away defiled.

Unfair, that, as the Spirit
touches ours to leave us
genius or deranged,
to strike us mad while we
can’t touch divinity.

No prompt suggestions, but perhaps a dilatory suggestion in due course...
feedback award Non-practicing atheist

It always begins this way:
I am standing ankle-deep in mud,
and Something is only a few steps away.
I don’t even know what It is, but it is bright
and it is warm and radiating wonder.
It is warm and I am cold and I Want it.
I am hungry for it, ravenous even.
But there is a catch.  
To reach it I would have to move my feet,
these feet that are mired, 
which have always been mired,
and I can’t.  I just can’t. I don’t even know why.
It’s such a little bit of mud that holds me here,
but it is enough.  
I feel the chill of Outside burrow deeper
so I wrap myself in a cocoon of daydreams
and pretend that I am running free
careening headlong into bliss.
The Soufflé isn’t the soufflé; the soufflé is the recipe. --Clara 
Like earth and sky,
you and I
always meet in the distance.

When we first retired,
we paid someone
to climb a ladder,
hang a clock high,
out of reach,
and we looked at it
then a year later
the batteries died-
we were stuck at 11:59,
but we decided to stay there
as long as we could.
Time is the best editor.

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