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/

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.

 

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.

 

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.

Leaden

image courtesy of scvincent.com
https://scvincent.com/2020/06/25/thursday-photo-prompt-silver-writephoto-2/

I can not begin to hold

the silver in the twilight air,

for it too quickly slips from my fingers.

My feet stuck in my quicksand thoughts

of moonlight shimmering on silvered hair

so, stop any step toward a silver chance,

Slipping away like silk as twilight

Fades into velvet night.

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.

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.