CAROLYN O'DOHERTY
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breakfast

5/11/2018

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Picture
The morning broke
Harsh as bitter coffee
Light falling too brightly
Across the sticky counters
 
The morning broke
Like used up eggs
Hard shells reduced
To fragile shards
 
The roaches retreated
Waving their antennas
To signal their defeat
 
The people rushed to their cars
Carting backpacks
And overdue papers
 
The mice stayed behind
Feasting on coffee grounds
And leftover smears of jelly

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The mirror broke

4/14/2018

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Picture
When the mirror broke, the pieces scattered across the living room floor like lethal confetti. Slivers glittered in the light. Images flickered, disconnected and startling. The frame slumped against the wall, its black wood dull without the distraction of reflection. The paper in its center had a splotch of mold shaped like the face of a bearded man.

The guests stared at the shattered disaster. No one moved to clear it up. The shards taunted them with their knife sharp edges, eyeing soft finger with greedy lips. Come on, they seemed to crow, sweep me up.
I dare you.

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ON the way here

3/25/2018

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Picture
On the way here, the sidewalk started wobbling. I thought at first it was me, like maybe I broke a heel or something, but then I saw a guy in front of me lean against a mailbox. Too much to drink, he muttered. I didn’t correct him. I figured out that if I slid my feet while I walked the wobbling sort of evened out so it was more like ice skating, or how ice skating would be if there were hills. It would have been okay then except the wobbling turned into something more like bouncing. I was starting to take it personally. What did the sidewalk have against me anyway? Did it want me to be late? I tried stamping my feet, pushing down really hard in an effort to quell the cresting concrete. It didn’t work. I tried jumping from swell to swell, timing each leap so I could skim the tops like a squirrel leaping across branches. That didn’t work either. I looked around me to see how other people were dealing this this sudden complication but the other side of the street was calm. Flat. Gray. Normal.
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grand central

3/17/2018

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Picture
The train pulled into the station in a gush of steam, hot and smelling of metal. There was a flurry as everyone searched for lost gloves and missing handbags. The children pushed their way along the corridors, scrambling to gather up their suitcases and stuffy winter coats. 

Amy left her novel squashed between two of the cushions.

Nathan left his glasses on the window ledge.

Mrs. Morris left her new lipstick, the dark plum one, in the dusty space beneath the seat but she wouldn’t realize it until the following Sunday when she got dressed to meet Daniel at the fairground.
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lunch

3/5/2018

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Picture
Outside the window, the owl sang softly to the mouse, hoping to lure her out into the night. The mouse laughed to herself, hunkering down under a mossy rock and watching the clouds drift across the moon. She chewed on one tiny nail.  She groomed the tip of her tail, the soft bit where a few silver hairs grew. The owl tried a different tune. The mouse grew bored. She wondered, if she ran very fast, could she make it to the blackberry bush across the way? Her little hear pitted and patted. Her whiskers twitched.  The owl paused its song and the mouse stuck her nose out and sniffed.
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the rock (for ryan)

2/23/2018

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Picture
It is hot. The sun burns through the sky, not a shred of cloud to block its sizzling rays. Of course all I can do is sit here.  That how it is for rocks. No legs, no hands, hell, not even a fin or a sail. Nope, not for a rock. You’ve heard the phrases, you’ve problem said them: dumb as a box of rocks, solid like a rock, stone cold dead. Who wants to be dumb, solid, and dead?  Not me. 

Not that anyone asked.  They never do.

At least last week I was in the grass. That was OK. Cooler, anyway, though kind of scratchy. Then some half-brained kid picks me up – no reason, mind you – and hurls me towards a stop sign. Clang.  Yeah, funny. I’m pretty sure I left a dent. I’m probably smeared with red paint, too, though I’ll never know.  No eyes, remember?  So now I’m stuck here, in the dirt, next to a road, with no cover at all and the sun beating down and every once in a while a car hurtles past, wheels inches from me, washed in exhaust. It’s only a matter of time before someone veers over just a hair and then… wham.  Cars are heavy. Trucks are worse. Trust me, I know.  You think I was always this small?  This smooth? I used to be big, edgy, sharp.  I used to tower over people. I used to intimidate. Now I’m just a hunk of granite, hand sized, easy to throw.  Easily abandoned on the side of the road.

If I weren’t I rock, I would scream.

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Is This yours?

2/1/2018

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Picture
She sat on the bench eating a sandwich
It tasted like ink with a dusting of apostrophes
When she bit into it, the letters scattered
Pigeons pecked at them
Heads bobbing
Swallowing them one by one
Is this yours? a man asked, holding up an “L”
She studied his suede boots
The pigeons lifted their heads
Their eyes as bright as pins
The man kept walking
Wait, she thought, but he didn't
She watched the boots cross the plaza
One blue, one red, a flag without stars
She thought he might be the star
She wished she hadn't eaten the sandwich
She should have saved the letters
Strung them together
Created words
Told the man her name
Picture
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Once Upon a time

1/27/2018

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Picture
Once upon a time there was a princess in a tower. No, that’s not how it starts. Once upon a time, the princess kissed the frog in the glass slipper and the three bears fell asleep for one hundred years. Or wait, maybe the bears got stuck in the tower and the princess lived in a house that stood on a chicken leg. Or did the princess make three wishes on a magic goose which meant jewels fell out of her mouth whenever she spoke?  Which was OK in some ways, except that it made it difficult during her ascent of the crystal mountain, since she started panting and the sliding gems made a terrible racket rattling down the mountainside.
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Scents

1/21/2018

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Picture
The smells rose up over the hedges, momentarily suspended in huge clouds before shattering into fireworks. Little bits rained down like scented confetti, covering the ground with unexploded odor-bombs. Patchouli, vanilla, Old Spice, freshly cooked spaghetti. Fragrances stuck to Jenny’s bare feet and tangled in her hair. The cat flicked her paws in a gesture of disdain. The baby laughed and chewed on his hands. The dog rolled in ecstasy over the uncut lawn. At school the teenagers sniffed their fingers surreptitiously, worried they might have picked up the wrong one.
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    Scribbles
    Scribbles are thoughts, musings, stories, and poems. Scribbles are inconsistently added, quick, short, and (hopefully!) fun.

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© 2021 by Carolyn O'Doherty
  • Books
    • REWIND >
      • Buy Now!
      • Excerpt, Chapter 1
      • The World of Rewind
      • Rewind Photos
      • Study Guide
    • UNLEASHED >
      • Buy Now!
      • Excerpt, Chapter 1
      • Unleashed Photos
    • RECKLESS >
      • Buy Now!
      • Excerpt, Chapter 1
      • Reckless Photos
  • About Me
    • Top Five
    • Reading List
    • Author Interview
  • Scribbles
  • News/Events
  • Contact