Icy cold wind walks.
Blinding sunshine ironic,
Burning horizons,
Promises of warmth
Unfulfilled in morning’s cry
Of grey storm cloud’s tears,
And then nothing left
Of fires or dreams curling,
Blanketing round us.
Winter’s Grief
Author: akalandros
Sleeplessness
Sleeplessness always told the story
Between the here and the now
The between and
What she thought a game
The tracks that led to nowhere
The last section of a living
Something not well lived
A swirl of memory
Piercing through knots
could not be undone
She had lived with no plan
With only a heart that failed
More than once
A heart she could not ever trust
A heart that spoke in religious tongues
She’d yet to understand
Its rhyme or reason for speaking
In lies and whispers,
For leading her astray,
For leading her to abandon her dreams and plans,
She would never know.
This was her last act, in her last years,
To strip herself of harlequin clothes.
Winter Has No Cheer
Tuesday Writing Prompt Challenge—December 8, 2020 | Go Dog Go Café (godoggocafe.com)
As winter whispers
The longing starts
For warmer days
Of a warming spring
Leaking slowly
Into a sweltering summer.
As winter whispers
In pretense of knowing
Warmth and cheer
Of holidays it cannot contain
In its freezing coldness,
We are left untouched
For far too long—
Our souls grow grey
In these winter days
And leap at the hope
Contained in striking colors
Of Winter’s sunsets–
Only to have hope
Bashed, broken, bleeding
Against the frozen Winter
Ground. As Winter whispers,
Chuckling at our fragile humanity.
An Afternoon of Creation
Curtains drawn against the sun
Of an autumnal afternoon
Spent in another hotel,
She drowns in what
The bathroom mirror shows
Of emptiness in sapphire eyes
As her empty heartedness grows–
Her wrinkles a road map
Of crosshatched lies
Told and lived even now,
As her fingers grip
The sink edges of porcelain
Cold against her skin.
Her mind swirls,
Dizzy, lost in her creations
Of new golden plated lies.
https://godoggocafe.com/2020/11/17/tuesday-writing-prompt-challenge-tuesday-november-17-2020/
Jacob’s Hip
https://sammiscribbles.wordpress.com/2020/11/14/weekend-writing-prompt-183-wrangle/
Wrangle words, twist defenses
Round heart and soul,
You need the bricks
Behind which
You hide, denying
the blackness all see
Of the hate you spit.
Remember Jacob’s hip
After wrestling with God.
As The World Burns – Out Now!
Now available! So honored and so excited about the work in this anthology.
Indie Blu(e) Publishing are very proud to announce the publication of As The World Burns. Our third socially-aware anthology. As The World Burns is available via all good book stores in Kindle and softback NOW. It is an incredible collection of writers, many of whom are from WordPress and are in our writing groups, writing some of our favorite work. We hope you will support them and our efforts to spread awareness of socially vital subjects. If you have felt frustrated with politics, Covid-19, Black Lives Matter, Homophobia or any of the things happening ‘as the world burns’ this is the collection for you.
We dedicate this anthology to those who have bravely fought the encroaching darkness in 2020 with their writing and their art, and who insist that racism, sexism, homophobia, and war are not inevitable, or acceptable, facets of the human condition. As The World Burns is a story of…
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The Earth We Leave
A world bequeathed to us
In the breaking sounds of softness
Sighs from the weight
Of lost innocence and souls,
Mourning the loss of her lineage of love
In our desire for riches and more,
Grows weary of the heaviness of us.
The tonnage of our selfishness
Swirls in her oceans,
Fouls her air,
Tears apart her mantle.
In anger,
Her sky weeps,
Her winds whip up her seas–
All to wipe the weight of us
From her face, her body.
Thus, the earth we bequeath.
https://sammiscribbles.wordpress.com/2020/11/07/weekend-writing-prompt-182-bequeath/
Thirsting
Emptied vault opens,
casts leavings of shriveled seeds
beyond redemption.
Between the edges
nothing could penetrate here,
wind, rain, tears—nothing.
Sound had no life here,
dying in small deaths of emptiness,
eternal silence.
A life damaged beyond
repair, encased by cold stone,
a life of shriveled seeds,
lived in a stone vault—
lightless, soundless
thirsting.
https://sammiscribbles.wordpress.com/2020/10/24/weekend-writing-prompt-180-vault/#comments
A Witch Among the Willows
Sit among the willows,
drifting in ghostly silence,
each wrapped comforted
by misery’s blanket.
Except I am no longer,
listening to words
carefully scripted,
tumbling into deceit’s
delicious dishes
easily prepared
by your thin lips mouthing words
filled with ghost meaning.
Regurgitated regrets
bitter in the soul and heart–
I can tell you that.
A thing you would not
ever know, catalyst of misery,
your starring role.
Except–
tell-tale signs of age
now crackle through songs of your
sweet, deceitful voice,
makes harder to catch
victims snared in misery
of life trials made.
Stop floating among
the willows, thinking yourself
Calypso casting
spells of delicious
deceit, when you’ve aged into
Macbeth’s witch drifting
in the ghostly fog of ego.
https://godoggocafe.com/2020/10/20/tuesday-writing-prompt-challenge-tuesday-october-20-2020/
https://onewomansquest.org/2020/10/19/vjs-weekly-challenge-117-except/
https://amanpan.com/2020/10/19/eugis-weekly-prompt-ghostly-october-19-2020-%f0%9f%91%bb/
Autumn Dawn
https://freeverserevolution.wordpress.com/2020/10/19/oct-4-ripples/
Ignoring the ripples doesn’t work,
Beautiful though they may be
In the early light of an autumn dawn.
The ripples return.
Their warmth long gone,
Drained of blood.
Injected with colors of autumn’s dawn,
They look full, alive with mysterious meaning.
But cold these ripples remain
In their return to me.
Time shifts,
Tilting beneath my feet.
I shutter and stare, a moment only—
I cannot weave these cold things
Into a useful thing, resembling you.
Hearing The Mermaids Sing 