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Margie Willis
Margie Willis

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About Me — Margie Willis

reaching laminar flow . . . — Three months into my third year at Medium, I write my third About Me because life changed vastly under the last eighteen moons. Three is my lucky number. Astrologically, I’m a moonchild and there was a blue moon last lunar cycle. I am ionized by the buzz of anticipation! Writing…

Nonfiction

4 min read

About Me — Margie Willis
About Me — Margie Willis
Nonfiction

4 min read


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Prose

1 min read

Here Are My Lists
Here Are My Lists
Prose

1 min read


Published in

Write Under the Moon

·Oct 24

Huntress Moon Will Be Haunting

a zany frolic to do some flaunting . . . — Under maritime skies of gossamer organdy salty ragamuffins and beasties will bandy superheroes and princesses be feelin’ randy in animated pursuit of complimentary candy. Huntress Moon will be rapture gallivanting her hokeypokey dance can be so daunting making sure no hungry munchkins are wanting while every bad boogeyman she be haunting…

Write Under The Moon

2 min read

Huntress Moon Will Be Haunting
Huntress Moon Will Be Haunting
Write Under The Moon

2 min read


Oct 23

Balsamic Baste of Scudding Senryu

getting balmy on a dilly-doodle day . . . — Bend my stem real low gather my petals gently kiss me one more time.

Poetry

2 min read

Balsamic Baste of Scudding Senryu
Balsamic Baste of Scudding Senryu
Poetry

2 min read


Oct 22

Welcoming a Wandering Mutt into My Sleeping Bag

my stray-dog saga at Mammoth Lakes . . . — My wicked dad, among his minor abuses, was a rotten planner of family vacations. With nine kids, some planning might’ve been fun. Spur of the moment back in 1962 (when I was six), dad drags a dozen of us to the bottom of the Grand Canyon for an overnighter. No…

Storytelling

4 min read

Welcoming a Wandering Mutt into My Sleeping Bag
Welcoming a Wandering Mutt into My Sleeping Bag
Storytelling

4 min read


Oct 21

Autumn Keeps Kissing the Apples Right Off My Cheeks

when my meander dwindles, tiny tingles linger . . . — Faded variegated apple branches exhale faint wavy mist drops radiate hummingbird rushes in for a gingersnap sip limbs scrub the stale summer air whooshing in to wrap my long tresses into gray swathes of psycho. Vines are plump and punctuated by mauve harvesters rumble a tightwire act fondling juicy orbs of potential full…

Poetry

2 min read

Autumn Keeps Kissing the Apples Right Off My Cheeks
Autumn Keeps Kissing the Apples Right Off My Cheeks
Poetry

2 min read


Oct 21

Guess She’d Rather Be in Transylvania

where fangs puncture my pomegranate pipedreams . . . — I guess she’d rather be in Transylvania a swift tumble toward a zombie rendezvous trolls cavort with ghouls on kazoo once again . . . I hear her howlin’ once again . . . some scarecrows yowlin’ such a gory gurgle begs a towelin’ werewolf is backdoor disembowlin’ . . . why would she rather hang in…

Poetry

2 min read

Guess She’d Rather Be in Transylvania
Guess She’d Rather Be in Transylvania
Poetry

2 min read


Oct 20

Tricks or Limericks

take your pick of geriatrics . . . — I reside in a pokey crammed with lunatics Widow Wonker whacks off with her crucifix Rod gets rood envy biddies in a frenzy meek copycats only dare to use chopsticks. No, really. Tootsie in two-oh-two is divine she’s fashioned a plump Trumpian shrine his festering lumpkin the hue of pumpkin and portly rats gnaw…

Poetry

2 min read

Tricks or Limericks
Tricks or Limericks
Poetry

2 min read


Oct 20

9. Shaking Off Rigid Conformity

holding the handlebars loosely . . . — If there’d been a World Wide Web back when I was about to leap into the great unknown of a cross-country trek, I never would’ve gone. If I’d had that research tool at my fingertips, I would’ve shriveled in the face of all that visibility. I would’ve found out other…

Storytelling

6 min read

9. Shaking Off Rigid Conformity
9. Shaking Off Rigid Conformity
Storytelling

6 min read


Oct 19

Deep in Gossamer Gulch

where gourds are spider-kissed . . . — Burrowing toes shrouded by simmering sands switchbacks still beckon to doddering marrow candles flicker in gourds like flirting feral cats while a fond breeze fondles the mossy tendrils. Once upon a gossamer gulch inlaid with mettle deeply steeped in the fake fray of pithy history five bespectacled munchkins defy a scarecrow by…

Poetry

2 min read

Deep in Gossamer Gulch
Deep in Gossamer Gulch
Poetry

2 min read

Margie Willis

Margie Willis

5.2K Followers

Hoping to live with heart.

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