Hosted by Tina @ Lens Artist Challenge #205

All photography by Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

Flippant as a high school cheerleader blowing off the new girl and not in a good way at all. Flippant as the rain deciding to fall or to stay above, keeping safe and dry. Flippant as the tiny chickadee, flitting around from tree to tree.

Flippant is the rainbow, teasing and taunting us to find rainbows end. Flippant is the parent, never knowing what to do. Flippant are the feelings between me and you.

By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

June 27: Story Challenge in 99-words

Hosted by Charli Mills

In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about swarms. What could swarm? How does the swarm impact the people or place in your story? Is there something unusual about the swarm? Go where the prompt leads!

It was hot. Bone dry with a southwesterly wind merging rainbow colored grains of sand to form rivers of hot dunes threatening everything in its path.

I lay on the ground out in the 100° sun repairing my camper. My old Class C was fading, but I kept tinkering to keep her going since she was not only my transportation but my permanent home.

A slight o ontttttyyo tickle on my cheek, I brushed it away without looking. More light touching, I brushed at it and felt resistance.

Looking up I see I’m surrounded by a sea of black. Tarantula swarm!

Last Photo for June 2022 hosted by bushboy

By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

In response to Crimson’s Creative Challenge #190

He ran. He ran so hard and so long, he felt his heart pounding within his parched tongue. Sweat dripped from his forehead. Dark brows drew together in consternation.

The dogs were not far behind. A fence cross-crossed then blocked the way, but not for him. He figured he could fit through the slats easily, and did so.

He was so close to freedom, he could smell it in the air. He crawled through the fence, not noticing the no entry sign. He could not read, it was forbidden.

He dove into the drying cornstalks, tripping but not falling before he returned to his full out run. Minutes later, the posse led by the snarling dogs, stopped at the no entry sign.

Someone asked, “Do we go in boss?”

“Nah,” the heavy-set white man said through a half-smile, “he’ll wish he had let us catch him soon!”

By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

Brevity’s
the length a term of office
should be in Supreme Court

By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

They legalize guns
To form their own militia
To take away our rights

By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

To laugh is wondrous
Making others laugh is satisfying
To make him laugh – heavenly

By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

Use the first words of the poem from Kunjal called ‘Rain,’ which have to appear at the end of each line with no more than sixteen lines.

“His first rain, from a little scrawny window, droplets pattering and dew forming,”

The thunderstorm raged around his
parasol, yet not a single first
touch of wet frigid rain
fell on his umbrella received from

someone extraordinarily special if a

tad timid in his bearing and a little
self-conscious about his scrawny

body, which is a groovy window
to the gents soul. Unseen droplets
flow from the umbrella pattering

away from his feet, his arms and
his entire body, pools of dew
from his walk become rivers forming

By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris