Day 30- Learning Selfishness 

And finally, day 30! Last poem for NaPoWriMo! We’re here! 🙂
So, I promised to end on a happy note- I think this one’s a happy ending. 🙂
I’m going to spend the next few days catching up on all the NaPoWriMo goodies I missed! If you have a special poem stashed away, please do tag me! I’d love to read it! 🙂
Thirty days of poems! This year, my fourth, was an absolute blast! Here’s three cheers for everyone who stayed with me all month! You’re awesome! 
Hip hip HURRAH! 
Hugs and kitten-bucketful mugs,

Your Friendly Neighborhood Cookie Monster

(Or, you know, just yusra) ❤️

Day Sixteen- Weighted Breaths

Day sixteen – Weighted Breaths, for th and prompt, ‘balloons shaped like anchors’. 

We’re in the second half already! How time flies!

How’s your April going?


Yusra ❤️



He had that odd sort of melancholy
That stilled everything around him, gently
rippling, like a shimmer, like
the ground does, on a searing hot day
when the sun bears down with all its intensity
He had that.
Dry, parched- but not barren
Simply lying in wait
He had that
He had his aura and his atmosphere
He carried his own gravity

How could I stay away?
How could I not be drawn in?
This man walked beside me
With worlds within him




I want to stop believing, sometimes, I do

But I take one look at you, and I hope anew.

Between all the constant upheavals and interruptions in my life, you are the one constant.

I wish you would read, I wish you would know.

Know and appreciate how precious everything I give you is.

But there are some mountains even hope can’t climb.

And that’s just how it is.



For The Story – The Old Bachelor’s Respite

The Old Bachelor’s Respite





I called her over for dinner
The table was bedecked, lavishly spread
Her place was set with the first soup, and salad
-Wine and a delicate vinaigrette
She walked in demurely, arm in the crook of my arm
And at the sight, very nearly lost her head


At the sight of her, I very nearly lost my head


She sat down gracefully, into the chair I pulled
It was very clear that she was visibly thrilled
The white arch of her throat stark against the blood red ruffle
Her gaze fluttered alluringly in my direction, calling
I took deep breaths to inhale her, compose myself, and stilled
My forced calm went unseen
She lingered lustfully on each dish instead
I knew it right then,
I just had to get into her head


I poured her another glassful, her eyes sparkling, crystal cut
The effort it took to restrain my appetite, was too much
Fork clashing with knife, a vessel overflowing with life, such
Was the pull that I almost left my own food untouched
The subtle press of her fingers on mine, as I passed the bread
Intoxicant for my vintage, I simply had to hurry
She was already getting ahead

They all threatened to get ahead
-I took a deep breath-
They never did
I was hungry, I decided petulantly
Dinner was served
Now it really was time I fed


I walked around to pour her one more, just
One more innocent glass
In a moment, her duck l’orange was cooling patiently, congealing
Into an indistinguishable meaty mass
Because her knife would descend no more, nor would
The orgasmic sigh, so softly, sound
She lay half splayed in her chair, lifelessly
As the blood pooled upon the ground
Her eyes were fixed, her face a rictus
A death mask, a last oh how could you!
I ignored it, pretty but mere accessory, as I chewed
Through that elegant neck’s sinews
Contorted, no doubt, but salty and delicious
-fresh is always best, as I’ve often said

I picked up the fork from her limp held fingers
It was time to get into her head




Written for the story, The Old Bachelor’s Respite, found on Reddit.



Cheers, and bon appetit. 😉


Abnormally Normal Anne- Fight, Flight, and Fright.


Abnormally Normal Anne

The Diary of a Surprisingly Un-Demented Mind

Entry 31

Warning- This is going to be a long one. It’s been one of those days. You know, when you haven’t made it halfway through the day yet, but it feels like you’ve run a marathon. Or done 2.375  x 10^23 push ups. Or climbed Mt. Everest with one hand tied behind your back. Yeah, one of those kind.

The day started in the strangest way possible. Someone was hammering at the gate in the wee hours of the morning, and when the Mad Hatter stumbled out, he saw that someone had left a tiny (and I kid you not, like three to four inches with tail), tiny kitten in front of the gate.  In a surprising rush of worry, he picked him and ran in and handed him over to me. He’s a tiny little fluffball, the newest member of our nuthouse. I’d put him at about ten days, but severely malnourished. I guess I’m a mommy yet again, lol.

And as if that wasn’t enough, Thing One found two more kittens, presumably of the same litter, mewing pitifully on the porch of an empty house down the road. I suppose whoever abandoned them didn’t notice that the house wasn’t just quiet, it was unoccupied. Thing One got the two kittens home too, and they’re snoozing wrapped up in my pajamas right now. They’re very weak, but I’ve done this before, so it won’t be too difficult. The next two or three weeks will be all about feeding them every two hours and rubbing them down to make them pee. Kittens are a devil of a job, but worth every minute of the grub.

The Mad Hatter was alternating between being a tyrant and being a trout all day. I suppose even he couldn’t help be as vacant as a trout after he’d ground us down into the ground. As if the morning chores and the tub of freshly washed clothes tossed into the muddy yard for no good reason wasn’t enough, one of the Hatter’s many clueless friends dropped by with twelve crates of fresh fruit from his orchard. Now, the poor fellow probably thought we’d  love having all the fruit around, but the Hatter had other plans. Apparently some Blah and Blah from BlahBlahland had asked him if he could send them that specific fruit when he gets the chance. Long story short, I spent the entire day dunking, washing, drying and packing everything from the crates into different boxes and sending them around. There have to be some sort of minimum wage or labor laws about housework, seriously. I swear, if someone as much as asks me if I want to eat fruit for the rest of the month, I’m going to stick a banana in their eye.

Thing Two got me into trouble again as well. She hasn’t been studying, and she doesn’t give a midget bunny’s behind no matter what I say. Now, the Hatter wouldn’t bother much, except that he has this mad (obviously) notion that if I teach her enough, I can get her IQ as high as mine.  I don’t even know what to say to that. It was probably one of the worst days of my life when the Hatter found my IQ out. Every thing has been shoved my nose since then, from how to use an oxyacetylene torch to where to put a comma. And in any other situation I’d like the chance to help. With the Hatter though, it’s a tug of war between his needing my elbow grease and resenting my presence, my very existence, that His Exalted HeadupButtNess had to ask my advice.

Then came the mandatory religious sermon. And the throwing books. And the warnings that my marks better be in the top ten percentile or I could forget about studying after this year. Sure, I don’t mind studying. Heck, I like studying, and I’m lame enough to say that on a public platform. But surely even a demented mind will see, that for me to study, you actually need to let me study? Du-uuuuuh!!!

Oh and yeah, I slipped and fell twice in the day. Once when I was one of those tossed out blankets in the rain, and the second when I thought I could carry a heavy box across the mud slicked yard to the storage ( I couldn’t, obviously. Slipped and jerked the entire weight of it onto my left arm, and now it hurts like a bitch). Boo for mud. And boxes. A bit of solace came when my favorite squeeze kissed it away, so it doesn’t hurt so much anymore. (No really, it doesn’t! I’m not lying at all! 😛 )

Suffice to say, I’m not a pretty picture right now, mentally or physically. I’m going to crawl into bed and do my best imitation of dead for the next six hours, after which I have to finish reading around 2000 pages. But then, that’s still more fun that 2000 feckin’ oranges, so yay in a way.

Oh well, tomorrow’s another day.

Till tomorrow then,

Abnormally Normal Anne.