Ralph was to be married in a few days. To help him relax, his best man Sam took him to his favorite hangout so they could read poetry for a while.
They found the Norton Anthology of Victorian Poems and began reading.
First they read Tennyson’s “Locksley Hall”, a tale of a soldier jilted by his old girlfriend, now a wife and mother, whose parents can’t stand him. Throughout the poem he wallows in bitterness.
They then turned to Robert Browning’s “My Last Duchess”. The Duke’s widowhood was self-inflicted.
“Is it always this way?” Ralph asked, anxiously pondering his decision.
This week’s photo prompt was provided by J. Hardy Carroll. Friday Fictioneers is our weekly attempt at writing a one hundred-word story, with the help of our fearless leader, Rochelle Wisoff~Fields.
“Whenever I see a daffodil,” chanted Francis to his friend Gunther, “I can never forget my girlfriend Muriel, the English major. Wordsworth’s ‘I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud’ was always her favorite.”
“Oh I know that poem,” Gunther mused. “Wordsworth and his sister Dorothy were walking near a lake at Grasmere in Cumbria County. He was inspired by a shore lined with daffodils. It’s a classic of English Romantic poetry.”
“Wow!” Francis reminded him.” I wish we could get away from this dreary city to that relaxing environment.”
“Well,” Gunther nudged him, “Your habit of hanging around with bookworms helps.”
This week’s photo prompt was supplied by the Reclining Gentleman. Rochelle Wisoff~Fields, each week, guides us with Friday Fictioneers.
“I’ve always had such a fondness for airports,” Albert told the pretty stewardess he met at the local terminal.
“When I was a boy, I lived within two miles of La Guardia, and my father practically always worked at Kennedy. In 1981 I even flew to Buffalo on the same plane as Cab Calloway.”
She kept him company as he waited for a friend of his, whom he was expecting within a half hour.
Hours went by and his friend never showed up.
“That miserable Godot has done it again!” he complained. “That’s at least the second time I know of”.
This week’s photo prompt is supplied by Melanie Greenwood. Rochelle Wisoff~Fields leads us weekly in Friday Fictioneers, an attempt to write a story of only one hundred words.
As I’ve said so very many times before I’ve simply never been able to stand either cold weather or an early sunset. I’ve always so thoroughly enjoyed the warmth and long days of spring and summer. It would never strike me as the least bit surprising to hear that people generally tend to get more depressed in dark gloomy cold weather. I should be so very happy if only daylight saving time could last all year long. It’s not because I’m very active but somehow an early sunset for me represents so well the gloomy depressing side of life. During the warm months I don’t bother to take much advantage of the extra sunlight by engaging in any extra activity but I simply enjoy the feeling I get from all the extra light. In my imagination and experience, an early sunset has always been inextricably associated with snow and ice, fog and all things miserable. The cumulative impact of all that trouble gets me crazy. As a literature major I can’t possibly overlook the nasty imagery. It’s such a perfect metaphor for pain and unhappiness. Whenever possible I always go to bed early anyway so it’s not as if I take advantage of the sunshine by staying up late. Most of it is probably in my imagination. Midsummer has also always been associated with one of St. John the Baptist’s feast days too. There’s a lot of symbolism in the fact that, from now on, the days start getting longer until about Christmas Eve. Yet again there’s a reference to darkness and evil there. Unfortunately all this perfection can’t possibly last. As long as it’s here, though, I shall be on the absolute top of the world. My lifelong tendency to over react to things is frequently a disadvantage, but in warm weather, with a late sunset, it’s perfection.