A twiglet is a short phrase. Or a word. Its aim is to “prompt” a flow. A thought. A memory. If something comes to mind, write. A polished piece isn’t the goal; creativity is. Leave a link, if you’d like your work read, but comments should not be expected. Twiglets are posted on Tuesdays.
She was six shots
and a trigger finger –
was that whisky
or was she a pistol –
not unlike my mother
to belly to the bar
bang her mother-of-pearl
handled revolver down call
for rounds all-around
fired back
Deadeye Jane but still standing
the men knocked flat
like carnival targets.
I put down a poem about Dürer’s hare.
Two mockingbirds drove a hawk across the half moon
and down the drive,
a rabbit looked up like a female passenger
observing the driver of a semi stopped by light,
a drab cardinal searched the blue feeder fruitlessly
for safflower seeds,
the black cat asked for my attention
as if I were a barista or something.
I finished my jelly mug of decaf
poured two hours ago.
These things are not like my mother.
The Twiglets 
[…] For Misky’s Twiglets. […]
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https://fmmewritespoems.wordpress.com/unlike-my-mother
Nice prompt. Very powerful. I’m back in business!
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Loved this. I concur on cherries from the bag.
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[…] Twiglet 85 unlike my mother […]
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Everyone has at least one… mother…
Three Different Unlikes
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Love that I can post again without problem on your blog. Left my comment there.
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I re-opened ‘Strands’ as long as it remains problem free. Though I WP did catch three spam, and blocked two friends in the trash…
….always something…
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Happy Tuesday!
http://purplepeninportland.com/2018/07/18/like-and-unlike/
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I’m back on deck again, having just returned from a long visit with family. I’ve become my mother. Scary.
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She was six shots
and a trigger finger –
was that whisky
or was she a pistol –
not unlike my mother
to belly to the bar
bang her mother-of-pearl
handled revolver down call
for rounds all-around
fired back
Deadeye Jane but still standing
the men knocked flat
like carnival targets.
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Excellent!
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Dead eye Jane… a lot to live up to or maybe that’s live down
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Yes, that was meant to be a bit ambiguous.
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https://poetrybydebi.wordpress.com/2018/07/19/unlike-my-mother/
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I’m a little late but I thought I try my hand at this prompt.
https://poemsbyarcadiamaria.blogspot.com/2018/07/unlike-my-mother.html
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That is a lovely poem, and so true that we’re often free to travel beyond our parent’s dreams. Welcome to Twiglets!
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[…] https://thetwiglets.wordpress.com/2018/07/17/twiglet-85/ […]
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I actually liked my mother; thankful for her. That seems to not be the case too often. https://onetahayes.com/2018/07/20/two-hobbies/
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I corrected a typo in your link so it works for others to click on now. Your mum’s doilies are very pretty.
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July 20, at 8 PM
I put down a poem about Dürer’s hare.
Two mockingbirds drove a hawk across the half moon
and down the drive,
a rabbit looked up like a female passenger
observing the driver of a semi stopped by light,
a drab cardinal searched the blue feeder fruitlessly
for safflower seeds,
the black cat asked for my attention
as if I were a barista or something.
I finished my jelly mug of decaf
poured two hours ago.
These things are not like my mother.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Really nice. Like the turn made by the final line, and love the jelly mug and the rabbit looking up. Clever stuff throughout.
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