The Earth We Leave

Image courtesy of Dreamtime.com

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/

Spirit of Stone

Photo courtesy of Sue Vincent’s Thursday Photo Prompt Veiled #writephoto

For visually challenged writers, the image shows a green horizon, beyond which the mist veils a hill topped with strange rock formations.

I knelt before God

as the earth was formed.

For ages I have been here,

spirit of stone unmoving,

waiting above the forest land.

I am the tonnage of stones,

living veiled behind swirling mists.

Yet, I am billions of stones,

existing beyond the veil.

I press the earth for meaning

when I hear the children of earth wail

of suffering through centuries.

I rise above the peace of forest land,

lifting the tonnage of anger I carry.

I am the billions of stones now,

moving beyond the veil.

I have risen, the world,

carrying justice

in the weight of stone,

the children of earth will not be moved.

Behind the veil, I am the tonnage of stones.

I will retreat there when this time is done.

 

Washing the World

Image falling into the rain by Moonlight-Rainstorm on Deviant Art
https://sammiscribbles.wordpress.com/2020/05/23/weekend-writing-prompt-158-downpour/
Use the word downpour and create a poem or prose piece in exactly 88 words.  

 

It does begin with whispers of wind,

Steady, slow rhythm of fattened rain drops.

The distant rumbles begin.

Then the slight, quick flashing starts.

Soon the wind howls.

The rain beats as if a beast

Against the windows.

The rumbles, the shouting of an angry God

At the petulant child of a world.

The flashing, the cracking whip

Of our forgotten master.

The downpour is here,

The sobbing of the forgotten,

The hated, the poor,

The ones we were to love.

No ark on this horizon is seen.

Dance

https://scvincent.com/2020/05/14/thursday-photo-prompt-dance-writephoto/

This week’s prompt ~ Dance

For visually challenged writers, the image shows a pale sun piercing the mists above a green path through a golden field, leading into the center of a circle of stones.

A mist of souls weaves among the stones

A dance between grasses of green and gold

Breezes chant in ancient secret runes,

Speaking in tongues of priestesses and druids–

A single soul leaps toward a shrouded sun,

And something in our blood no longer runs—

At all fluid.

Earth

Rend the earth again.

Tear, rip through miles of rock and soil

Till the swollen, rounded, glowing core

Of bubbling liquid lies exposed.

Note the flow,

Time the pulses of heat,

Beating with undulating life seen and unseen.

Then watch the viscous liquid cool,

Solidifying against the pain

Of each cold breath you expel,

Stilling the beat of life

Within her.

The transformation to cold, hard stone,

The breaking of her spirit,

She weeps stone tears

For us,

As thus,

Her mother’s heart is torn open.

Red Heart Cedar

This red heart cedar stump,
With its dark crevasses
And holes where bugs had homes,
Was sanded smooth.
A urethane finish added for shine
And protection.
The rings are visible still,
Rings that count the years
Until the tree fell in a storm,
Twisted from the earth
By tornadic winds.

Thus, I found it
In the yard.
Took the chain saw to the tree,
Cut it into chunks,
Along with the others that fell
That day while the dog and I
Sought shelter from the storm.

Now I sand and chisel away.
Routing out some hearts concave,
Bowls to be used for filling
At some future date,
Now standing empty.
Sanding some hearts level,
Tables to be used for holding things,
Yet these are empty too.

All this red heart cedar,
Once stood filled with life,
Now stands empty.

Ten in Ten

Ten hurricanes in ten weeks,
Or so says CNN,
North Korea and Iran
Could be shaking hands
If it comes to WWIII
California is burning
Vegas is still hurting
Puerto Rico has little
In the way of food and water
While Trump signs yet
Another executive order
Could nearly turn an atheist
Into a person of faith
But you know what they say,
Everyone prays in the end.

Disowned 

More delicate than our dying Earth,

The fragile blood of our children dries,

Blistering in a baking sun

While we watch 

Our babies gasping 

Like hooked fish.

Our humanity broken,

We are wooden pawns 

In the game of masters,

Men who would be kings

Posturing outrage 

Over plans known

By them alone

Made in black secret rooms,

Selling us all to Mephistopheles,

Trading on the fragility of our attention 

With the lives of our children,

Who made us human. 

Nothing is left to wonder at,

But if this is the day 

Humanity made

God tearless. 

History

history image

Spun out from the centrifuge
Twisted in helix meaning
Strands entwined, twisted back
Stretching toward history within heritage
Search through the montage of time
Sift through pounds of truth and lies
For a few ounces of purity
Measured out within the mess
The now was the past
Where to walk
We travel back
On twisted helix roads
To the selves we were
So very long ago
And learn
The future braided
In the past
With the now
And made us whole