Rectify Lines of Your Face

Image courtesy of theblot.com
https://sammiscribbles.wordpress.com/2020/09/12/weekend-writing-prompt-174-rectify/

The wrinkles of cotton shirts,

crease the jeans,

the edges of t-shirts you steam.

Stiffness of heavy starch

helps you remember every lie

through the years.

You fear softness

would wrinkle the fabric

Of memory.

 

Seasons

Image courtesy of rihaij on Pixabay

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

Image courtesy of Mark Carthy/Shutterstock

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.

 

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.

 

A Crown of Thorns for You

Image courtesy of Flickr
https://sammiscribbles.wordpress.com/2020/08/22/weekend-writing-prompt-171-impact/

The impact of broken glass shards–

A mistake with need to drip blood.

Make a presence known of parts

Marred and greetings sent

For what they would take,

Staking once again the claim

To snatch away, drain  

Blood from a soul

Needed to adorn

Her ego’s bleached crown,

A haystack of needles

Pricking the fingertips,

A crown of thorns in reverse,

She claims its softness for you.

 

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.