Category Archive:Moose Nuggets

Enough!

I’ve nothing left to give you
This day I call shotgun
Dead Man’s Curve
a’coming

Stop the car
Stop the flight
Stop the war
It stops tonight

You think I’ve got
Nothing left to give
Nothing left to fight for
You’re WRONG!

See me
See my eyes
Hear me
Hear my cries

You’ll be looking back
As I raise my hand
Holding daddy’s last gift

He’s dead and gone
The steel is cold
But my heart is colder

It’s enough
Long enough
Short enough
Enough!

My heart is my own
Take what’s yours
And be gone!
This ends now.

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Lance challenged us with Dead Man’s Gun – writing 100 words. I’ve been pondering what to write ever since it was posted Tuesday night. I reached for a pen a few minutes ago and this is the result.

Anger issues? Me? Nahhhhh

My Blog Can Beat Up Your Blog

I dabble at writing, but am no author. I have no byline, no book on a shelf. I worship at the throne of those who can and wonder, why not me? I read, forget, read again, and forget anew. I write of winsome things and heartfelt joys and pains; then wonder who reads, forgets, reads again, and forgets anew. I have words pounding in my skull that spill onto laptop, onto paper, into hearts. But still I know. I dabble only. I cannot write. I can only pour out my soul – for me. Where’s my pen? I must write.

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A reversal of the Trifextra Challenge. There are at least three lies there. And at least one truth. 99 words – because lies take so many more.

Ask no secrets and I’ll tell you no lie.

I was out with friends.

I always come home to you.

You’ll never know how much I love you.

It was only one time.
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33 Words for the Trifextra weekend challenge: 3 truths and 1 lie.

It was an agreement we made in the earliest days of our forever. We would never lie. We would be honest.


Learn proper English, please.

Syntax is not just what they charge in Vegas.

Moira waited backstage while the opening act prepped the crowd. She loved the sound of the cloggers’ taps and the responding thunder from thousands of feet in the audience. “It gets to me soul, Padraig, it gets to me soul.”

Giving her a peck on her cheek, Padraig Mullan waited for her benediction, a rub on his bald pate, then ran out to greet the crowd.

“She’s coming, boyos. She’s soon here, lassies. The finest soul in Ireland is waiting to meet you, to t’rill your hearts. Tell her how much she means to you, now. I give to you the blessed voice of an angel; the one and only MOIRA!”
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those darlin’ editors at Trifecta have given yet another challenge. This time we are to write 33-333 words using THUNDER in its third definition. 111 words is multiply-able (is, too, a word) by 3 giving 333. (clever, ms. moosie, clever)

I’m Irish by descent and a lover of Irish music and rhythms. Moira speaks to my soul, darlin’ Padraig.

thun•der noun \ˈthən-dər\

1: the sound that follows a flash of lightning and is caused by sudden expansion of the air in the path of the electrical discharge
2: a loud utterance or threat
3: bang, rumble [the thunder of big guns]