As I begin my morning hike, I see the rite of sacrifice has been paid. On the sidewalk before the trail, The butterfly lay dead. The design of a …
The Sacrifice – Annette Kalandros
The Sacrifice – Annette Kalandros
A Cave We Build
https://sammiscribbles.wordpress.com/category/weekend-writing-prompt/
Close the blinds against the grey light. Prepare a cave for the soul in cold January as the wind rages. Contemplation, prayer like John of Patmos? This cave readied, awaits the apocalypse devils wish.
Seven Years of Visits to the Garden
Each new year brings Now this garden grief Nourished by regret Each year, this day, here— Standing, kneeling, sitting—I Spend tears, words, wishes All meaningless now, In the barren garden grief Flowers never bloom Seven years gone now-- Nothing roots, though it has tried, In the garden grief inside
Autumnblings – Annette Kalandros
I have heard praises of all this autumnbling Yes, it is a feast of color, true. Yet, it seems this forest floor Littered with the wings Of carrion …
Autumnblings – Annette Kalandros
I’m honored to be featured on Braveandrecklessblog.com
Questions
Originally written for Sammi Scribbles Weekend Writing Challenge- Using Question in exactly 84 words but I didn’t get back to edit it down until today.
Questions hang in the air Like heavy coastal fog On cool autumn mornings Eternal questions of humanity: All the whys, the wonderings-- Never answered prayers-- Laying pressed between the Pages of a book like brown, Dried flowers—forgotten, Having lost their sentiment. Speak the differences Among roses, weeds, wildflowers— Inconsequential answers For inconsequential questions. Could sense of counting Out the hours be sliced Like blood, blooming meat To find truth absolute Like high priestesses of old, Scry the answer In a blood filled bowl?
Modern Prometheus becomes the Little Stranger – M.A. Morris
Written for last year’s challenge when I still used my pen name.
So now we know, You told me I wasn’t, But I was— Your creation. Said you loved me Just the way I was— But was it true? Yes, I was perfect Just the …
Modern Prometheus becomes the Little Stranger – M.A. Morris
Frankenstein; The Modern Prometheus – Annette Kalandros
I am honored to be featured on BraveandRecklessblog.com
That is me
I am of my own making.
Rather than ignore, pretend
A pretty sky for my façade—
I chose to make of myself,
A real thing, a living thing,
A patchwork quilt of scars:
Sown together scraps of terror,
Of pain, of suffering,
Of the dark wells into which I fell,
Of the dark wells I clawed and crawled,
bloodied fingered, nails torn off,
Out from the depths,
Of the wealth of human darkness
I have known, of my failures, of my triumphs—
Follow the stitching with your fingers
If you wish to understand
The quilt that I am
Though the batting be made
Of my tears, my blood, my skin,
My scars, bits of my spirit, bits of my soul—
The quilt that I am
Can offer you more
Than any villager can.
Photo by Dhilip Antony on Unsplash
I am a retired teacher, enjoying everything that…
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Consequences of Time
Consequences of time
Climb and mount
About the throat,
Following the path
Of arteries and veins,
And as if by magic,
Enter into the blood
To provide a dram bit
Of bitter choking poison
To the will of moving blood
That slows and stills
In the knowing.
The Woman in Black – M.A. Morris
Written when I still used my pen name. I was honored to be featured on Braveandrecklessblog.com
She dressed in black Since the age of twenty-three. She covered all her insides with The blackest sack cloth. She made sure to let in no light. She …
The Woman in Black – M.A. Morris
An Autumnal Baptism
Caught in the evening downpour, I am washed clean of summer. Summer’s red rock, red dirt dreams Sluiced from me with this autumnal drenching. Morning greets me with a cool hand Of sunshine upon my brow. Autumn whispers of a harvest Under skies of bluest topaz. A clear, clean, honest reaping In days yet to be had.
