I’m going to be up-front with you.

That's not exactly what I meant.

That’s not exactly what I meant.

I’m going out on a limb with this submission to Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneer’s 100-word challenge.

First of all, I’m submitting it on a Friday. Whoa, right?

Second of all, it’s a poem. I’m no poet. I don’t understand poetry. So just consider these 97 words arranged as if they were deep poet-like ruminationings.

Enough with the dizzy blonde jokes. I'm smart enough to profreed my own typping.

Enough with the dizzy blonde jokes. I’m smart enough ot profreed my own typping. And I meant to typpe that wrd, ruminationings.


I’m just being honest.

Plus, I want to lower your expectations so you think I did a good job this week.

This week’s dramatic photo comes to us from Madison Woods.

This is a free-form poem and it’s about me, so it’s not really fiction. I guess that would be the third way I’m going out on limb.

Consider me a risk-averse risk-taker submitting a verse.


Dramatic photo, huh?


A Child of the Moon

I am a child of the moon.

She illuminated the night of my birth,

on a cold November night when darkness tipped the scales of daylight.

I entered life in the softness of shadows.

In the cool, gentle umbra, I seek refuge from rays that could burn me through,

leaving scars without ever trying.

Yet darkness exists because of light.

I know this irony well.

When I gaze upon my shadow, I see both empty and full.

Empty Lorna ready to be filled and Filled Lorna ready to be emptied.

Just like any child of the moon.


Those of you who know me, know that I am a Highly Sensitive Person. Bright light bothers me. So do loud noises. I’d rather be in a cool, dark place than, say, at a sunny, crowded beach. In a former life, I was quite possibly a bat.

Yes, yes, yes!  That's more like it.

Yes, yes, yes! I can totally see myself as a bat woman.

Ta ta till next week…