Tag Archives: Melanie Thomason

;) 6 words

…and I haven’t even showered yet!


~Melanie Thomason


Filed under 6 word story, Stories


They say big cities are melting pots

And it is true

But some cities are better chefs

And Chicago

has been simmering a long time

creating a depth of flavor

all it’s own



~Melanie Thomason

Just reflecting back on my lovely trip to Chicago a little over a year ago.ย  ๐Ÿ™‚



Filed under Poetry

warden -micropoetry

The prison door is wide open

your fear is the only warden

~Melanie Thomason


Filed under micropoetry, Poetry

Undoing (with audio)


on grey

on twilight,

the purple dusk

and bruised toenail

sliver of moon.

The trees

are dark beasts

on the horizon

and I rode- I strode,

on my own two-feet

to the gallows,

the sad-sweet moment

of my undoing

its not magic

but something else


Like a first smile,

like a newly found element.

Something else,

yes, something else entirely.

There is a face in the moon,

a skull,

a dry, dead grinning thing

and it is this,

it is always this

I return to.

~Melanie Thomason



This poem is from my first book,ย Spectrum: Watercolored Words

get it here!


Filed under audio, Books, Poetry, reblog, Spectrum Watercolored Words

wet night (50 word story)

he ordered himself another beer, smiling at the

pretty girls and shot glasses all in a row

outside the thunder roared and the sky split open

the old man looked at him with a knowing smile and said,

“Hope you brought your raincoats boy, its gonna be a wet night.”


~Melanie Thomason


Filed under 50 word stories, Stories

the now

We are not time travelers

I’m still waiting on Hawk to build that time machine

though he seems to have flown away from the blogosphere

so for now, we are confined to living in the now

changing the past is impossible

so can we try to start fresh moving forward?

can we leave past relationships behind us?

~Melanie Thomason



Filed under Poetry

living (6 word story)

“Living is killing me,” he said.


~Melanie Thomason


Filed under 6 word story, Stories

prove it

in 1985

in Jackson, Mississippi

in a shit brown ’69 Buick

in the driveway of my grandparent’s home

we sat silently

each for our own reasons


my mom sat in the front passenger’s seat waiting

clinging to the bouquet of flowers that somehow made it all ok

baby sister sat in the back seat beside me

quiet for once but only cause she didn’t know what was going on

dad sat seething in the driver’s seat

waiting for me to break the silence

to respond to their seemingly simple announcement and a question

They were getting back together

we were moving back home

and all he wanted to know was, “Isn’t that great, Melanie?”

They didn’t expect my shock, my hesitation

They didn’t know my horror or my ultimate resignation

that the brief respite had ended, as i should have know it would

when he repeated his question with that edge in his voice

I quickly mumbled “yeah”

but the damage had been done

“Don’t you love our daddy, girl?”

“Yes sir.”

“I don’t believe you, guess you’re gonna have to prove it.”

~Melanie Thomason



Filed under Poetry