Time for another Friday Fictioneers entry. The challenge is to write 100 words based on a weekly photo prompt chosen by our host Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Check out her blog for more information by clicking here.
I was blown away by the response to Tide last week. In terms of likes and comments it was my most popular post so far (although not one of my personal favourites). This week I’ve gone far outside my comfort zone and written a poem. As always, thank you to all who take the time to read, like or comment.
PHOTO PROMPT © Piya Singh
The Mill
To crush the grain of unpure thought
I built a mill inside my mind.
On hate and lust the millstone feeds
Continuing its endless grind.
Though good intentions paved the way
This mill’s the dark Satanic kind.
The grain became a toxic dust
Now to all else I’m blind.
Starved of grain, sweet friction would ensure
The mill burns to the ground.
But my soul too would be consumed
As to my millstone, I am bound.
Instead the mill, well fed, continues
Rumbling deep within my tortured mind.
Whilst I, the miller, labour on
Worn down beneath its endless grind.
Thomas Charles Henry 
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