No Disaster

Image courtesy of Shutterstock.com
https://godoggocafe.com/2020/09/08/tuesday-writing-prompt-challenge-tuesday-september-8-2020/
 

As if I’d eaten some ancient grain

Meant for those of a long dead warrior hearted strain

I strengthen myself with tears. 

 

Over the bare years

Only you knew innocence

Truth, ruin in seas–

 

Imagined decades

No time for flowers and aches

Realize in drifting

 

Down years– no disaster

Were you in the end,

We were just a moment.

In the Secret Place

Image courtesy of Sue Vincent
https://scvincent.com/2020/08/27/thursday-photo-prompt-tokens-writephoto/

I hid them carefully,

The tokens left

In the forest keep

Of dreams sheltered

Far too long from mists,

Giving life to forms

Shifting in shadows

Where once we danced,

Loving for a time

Among the trees

Leaning to hide us

From those

Wishing us harm.

Then I woke.

Human once more.

Meditations on Forgiveness

Image courtesy of Pinterest

summer hot, humid

kills desire of sweetness

flowers forgiveness

 

falls decaying death

forgiveness dead leaves lifeless

blacken a gift heart

 

winter freezing ice

a cold weapon forgiveness

to cut the giver

 

spring new life begins

forgiveness lifeless, no seed

to plant, grow—never

 

The bird of flame rises

From the ashes in my chest—

Ash of forgiveness

Never given.

 

Sights of Sunlight and Night

My Own Image
https://onewomansquest.org/2020/08/17/vjs-weekly-challenge-109-what-a-sight/
https://godoggocafe.com/2020/08/18/tuesday-writing-prompt-challenge-august-18-2020/

Eugi’s Weekly Prompt “Night meets Day” August 17, 2020

What a sight the years have been!

Skipped a few heartbeats

walking through the valley,

found nothing new.

I sailed an ocean

didn’t dance as I’d wanted too.

In the desert,

I played a little poker,

winning the game, some money,

but still didn’t know what to do.

Then I thought I’d found a dream,

waking from the nightmare,

I screamed to see

the sight beside me.

Now, I journey onward

to catch the sunlight

as night meets day,

greeting what new sights

I encounter along the way.

Lessons in Listening

image courtesy of Dreamtime.com

 

https://onewomansquest.org/2020/08/03/vjs-weekly-challenge-107-listen/

My lessons in listening:
To a mother’s final words—
Always remember I loved you and was proud
Tossed off, too rushed to leave work
To get to the hospital, to see her,
Always thinking of more days, time.
Not thinking all I’d see,
Her dead eyes.

To all my dogs– little tells
Of cocked heads, whines, barks,
The ways of wagging tails,
To know what meant what–
Hunger, pain, desire to play,
A need for love or to go outside.
Those I’ve always learned well.

To students, the teens I taught,
A puzzle to figure of pieces and placement
What each meant for each—
The lift of a shoulder, how the eyes met or did not meet mine,
The head upon the desk, the work done or not,
The things said, not said—
To figure needs-
Some basic, some not so,
Requiring other safety nets,
Bruised and broken,
Some I could help repair.
I knew what to listen for,
Almost by instinct,
Since I had not been listened to
When I was one of them.

To my child, a whirlwind of cries,
Hunger, diaper, cold, hot, sick—
Each cry different
A knowing, animal instinct,
Some primal thing beating
Inside knew the way
Of my infant’s need.
When a teen—
A different thing,
A new species of need,
My animal and her animal
Had no common language
Of smells, signals, or cries
In the darkened tunnels
We went through.

To my dying wife, my dying wife—
So hard to listen to, to understand
a language no longer including
My daughter or me.
Never knowing for whom
The last coma spoken words–
I’m sorry, so sorry—
Were spoken.

Now, I learn the final lesson of listening,
A lesson sixty years in the learning, 

To myself, my own heart, my own soul.

Gratitude

Image courtesy of Flickr

August–

The resplendent month,

Of sun’s heat and blinding light.

The lethargic month

Of jealousy’s blight,

A thing of loss, not fought.

August—

The milestone marking month,

Of anniversaries, holidays, tears.

The flaming month

Of ashes where freedom,

A rising thing, held dear.

https://amanpan.com/2020/08/03/eugis-weekly-prompt-august-august-3-2020/

Ink and Fire

Image courtesy of Sue Vincent
In response to The Thursday Photo Challenge at https://scvincent.com/2020/07/30/thursday-photo-prompt-worn-writephoto/

I look for worn comfort

in finding unfamiliar pieces

that used to fit,

make sense, even if only of a kind,

but turn to no message

in the candle’s long drips.

The slippery steps of words

in letters slide from the drawer

of my desk once more,

and I, admiring the art of bloody cursive,

think the quill wore out,

dipping so often

into the inkwell of my bloodied soul.

Did this art require such red ink?

Now, indeed, I think, is the time

to find the perfect vessel to spill                                                

these worn, oft used slippery words

and provide a cleansing of fire

from which will arise

a heart and a soul

I recognize.

On The Horizon

Image courtesy of Sue Vincent

Thursday photo prompt: Vista #writephoto

Gazing at lush greenness as it travels

along this vista, a soul emptied of itself,

shrinking away to dust

for all the of giving it had done,

breathes in fullness and begins to glow.

Only here in green wildness breathed,

can pinhole prick holes and jagged slashes

be sealed in a soul emptied of itself.

The Watcher

Image courtesy of Sue Vincent Thursday Photo Prompt Challenge
For visually challenged writers, the image shows a flower-strewn cliff-top above the sea, where a rocky outcrop, seemingly shaped into many forms and faces, looks out over the waves.
This week’s prompt ~ Guardian
https://scvincent.com/2020/05/28/thursday-photo-prompt-guardian-writephoto/

The guardian watches the sea,

Waiting patiently

For the return of old ones

Who long ago slipped away

Out to sea, speaking

Words of promise,

Words of return–

Not unlike your words to me.

Like you, the old ones

Will not return,

Lost in an ocean

Of time long forgotten.

They found new homes

Where to light their fires,

Burning away old, shriveled desires,

Burning away the salt of the sea,

And the dirt of old known shores.

 

The guardian waits,

Like a widow upon her widow’s walk,

Staring out to sea.

But as I have finished waiting,

 I must walk away.