#FromOneLine 432

My grandfather's walking stick decided that being held by a human hand was terribly old-fashioned. With a clack-tip-tap, it skipped out the door & down the lane. It gave a playful poke to a heap of crunchy autumn leaves & inclined itself politely to a bewildered squirrel.

I remember my grandfathers walking stick and how it would bend on the concrete as he raced in quick slow motion to the store for my grandmother's love
never did he stop even when breathlessness spun him pain
even when the skies soaked him cold in rain
#FromOneLine 432

My grandfather's walking stick
from the Old Country
made of the finest mahogany
has been passed down
from the generations

I hear the #sounds of yesterday
when he tip taps down the hall

A comforting reminder of my past
and the hobbled legacy that awaits me

#FromOneLine #vss365 #poetry #poem

𝑴𝒚 𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒇𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓'𝒔 𝒘𝒂𝒍𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒌 is still in the corner, 𝔸𝕗𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝔽𝕠𝕘𝕙𝕠𝕣𝕟 𝕊𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕤, He never came back for it, and now how he never will. The #petunias still bloom in the flower beds next to the porch, but the #sound of the trowel is silenced.

#FromOneLine 432 #BlueSkyRemnant #BraveWrite #vss365

The cancer finally took him in April. It was raining but a blackbird sang outside from the top of the cherry tree. We put his stick in his coffin.
Tomorrow I'm heading to the woods to find my own.

4/4

#FromOneLine 432

My grandfather's walking stick was gratitude. He leaned on it his whole life.
He cut it from a blackthorn as a young man, whispering thanks to the Lady of the Sloes. ...

#FromOneLine 432

#WritingCommunity #vss365
#FromOneLine 432 #horrorprompt #poetry
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A Tree's Musings On Shut Doors

"My grandfather's walking stick
Was made of the fallen branch
Proffered by an old sloe tree
Standing on a nearby pasture"

They tell everybody in the village

Six inches
Of...

1/5

My grandfather's walking stick
I rely on daily
now that the years
have caught up to me

I place flowers on his grave
and while the earth between us
mutes our conversation
he mentors me more today
than he did back when
I was too headstrong
to listen to his wisdom
#FromOneLine #foxprose #poetry #poem

#FromOneLine #432

My grandfather
Like most grandfathers
Shared volumes of stories
The fascinating part for me
Was watching the face of
My grandfather’s walking stick
It’s dragon head would roll its eyes
Or imperceptibly nod in confirmation

📷:EBay

My grandfather's walking stick
Stood in the corner
He hated that thing
His pain was horrible
But he was incorrigible
Placed by the front door
As he walked out
Grumbling and fumbling
Stubborn old man
He just wanted
To not have to

#FromOneLine

#FromOneLine 432 #writing #prose #vss #seance #spooky #Halloween 👻👴

2/2

did he really need it?
My dad doesn't even remember
why he had it in the first place.
Maybe it was just a prop
for another of his shaggy dog stories.

#FromOneLine

#FromOneLine
1/2

My grandfather's walking stick -
he used it for a lot of things:
as a pointer or to get chestnuts
out of the trees for his grandchildren.
He'd also let them use it
as a hobby horse. But ...

My grandfather's walking stick
is main memory of him I have
when he played with us
or was angry at us
when he peeled peeches for us
or when he was annoyed at us
he is not sitting in his room anmore
but behind the door still is there
my grandfather's walking stick
#FromOneLine

No, anyone can join in 💙 just use the prompt line and add the #FromOneLine so we can find your writings 💙

#FromOneLine 432
Where can we go with just one connecting #prompt line? Let's see how many different places we can discover from just one starting point!

Start your poem/vss with the opening line :

My grandfather's walking stick

#FromOneLine 432 #prompt

She counts the bells
serenading the town

The #calming melody
is her solace symphony
against the ravages of poverty

Since our heartless government
now inflicts a sieve as a safety net
on the poor and their families
Social Darwinism is now in effect

#FromOneLine #vss365 #foxprose #poetry #poem

She counted the bells
Each toll, each sound
Each echo reverberating
Deep inside her being

She counted from high above
From high above the clouds
Where she’d settled

She was now calm
After the meltdown
After the breakdown

No longer breathing
But free at last

#FromOneLine 431 #vss365 #BraveWrite

She counted the bells on the flower, gave each a name, hoping it would not make the petals fall. The flower did shiver. There was too much hate & pain. The earth drew it down until the flower could sing it to the wind. The wind blew until that song became too thin to live.

#fromoneline 431