Weekend Writing Prompt #206 – Restless | Sammi Cox (wordpress.com)
Restless roses
climb skyward
toward the eternal
their grace defeated
as winds thrust
them downward
toward dirt
they escape.
The Struggle
Category: Nature
Decision on a Birdfeeder
I hesitate in remembrance
as if the fates would choose
a day of gray and leave me there,
as if a blossoming could be had upon
a second visitation to any day.
The creamer clouds disperse and swirl
in my extra strong coffee
like memories of things I wanted–
never had, never attained
all those years ago.
Stirring the coffee still,
I stare out the kitchen window.
Decide against a bird feeder
filled with black oil sunflower seeds.
I do not want cardinals here.
People say cardinals are spirits
of those you’ve lost come to visit you—
No. I want no cardinals here.
No spirits of the lost to visit or say hello.
No twittering or chittering away.
No vibrancy of color outside this window.
No. Not here. Not in this place.
I’d rather this be a spiritless place,
A virgin place, void of spirits, void of touch—
At least for a time
Tuck It Away
Tell the angels
To tuck away deep inside their chests
Such a cotton candy fire of winter sky raging,
Roiling in clouds there
Undeterred by storms
Or answers
Or truths
Provide no magic, no elixir
For human loss or longing,
Aching and confined in such beauty.
Guarded Trail
Thursday photo prompt: Guarded #writephoto | Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo (scvincent.com)
Give me a minute.
Let me have another cup of coffee,
Will you?
Before I slosh on after,
Down the trail–
Again– maybe.
You say, a guard now stands there,
Of the newer variety,
Who advises of the locust thorns,
The kind that pierces the shoe
And can go straight into your foot?
Could have used that advice–
Once or twice
Maybe thrice
In life.
But now I’ve rubbed my thumbs
Over the sharp tipped thorns of regret
Until callouses formed.
Then I moved on to other
Fingertips until bloody, raw,
Proving to myself the sharpness of thorns.
So now, you say this stony guardian warns
Of all the thorns
Along the paths and trails?
Might this guardian advise of a thornless trail?
I really wouldn’t care, but the soles of my feet
Are without callous, and I’d like to keep them so.
Send me down a muddy, sloshy trail where
I might just fall and break my neck.
That would be simply fine,
If the soles of my feet
Remain as soft and unmarred
as a baby’s behind.
Evening Seeking
Weekend Writing Prompt #188 – Languid | Sammi Cox (wordpress.com)
The languid time of evening
Comes in flames,
Searching horizons
In their lazy, twisting way
For truths and hearts.
Forever searching
For another flaming heart
To serve as a twin
As if that could be found
In such languid searching
In slowing time
Between sunset and sunrise,
Each a prize of flame,
never finding another flaming heart.
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/
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.
Mystical Fields
https://amanpan.com/2020/10/05/eugis-weekly-prompt-mystical-october-5-2020/
Meet me in the field
Where heather sways with the wind
Through time we will live.
Life, never a friend,
Kept us from knowing true joy,
Meet me in the field,
Where loss is gaining
And grief blossoms into joy
Meet me where gold grows.
Seasons
https://godoggocafe.com/2020/09/01/tuesday-writing-prompt-challenge-sept-1-2020/
Into fall’s hands
Dreams of summer scatter
Chilled to death.
Fall strides to winter,
Claiming death of all living
Dreams rolled inward— green.
Winter sulks away
Spring green rising from within
Our winter hearts.
Spring arouses summer
Dreams awaken from a soul,
Heated imaginings.
Into fall’s hands
Summer leaps with all her dreams,
Scattered leaves to air.
A Time of Transition
https://amanpan.com/2020/08/24/eugis-weekly-prompt-transition-august-24-2020/
Sing softly to me
Among the verdant trees
Of our youthful revelry,
Where memory sins
With aging fire,
Lightning to a soul’s dark soil,
Giving fire life within
As your song soothes
An aging heart.
Hearing The Mermaids Sing 