One Day Away #poetry #suicide
One day soon
I will walk away
where you ask
neither matters
nor the day
*
i have found
too hard to bear
this shallow orb
few listen
fewer care
*
beseeching
hand stretches for me
look at the colors
feel the wind
light flicker in the trees
*
yes i’ve seen beauty
and more
heard all nature
crescendoed sound
beckoning at the shore
*
it’s not the world
I care to leave
it’s the broken heart
fragile tears
love bereaved
*
do not miss me
when i’m gone
walk the beaches
touch her beauty
in her be strong
I shared this poem over at the Poetry Pantry hosted by Poets United
Photography ‘Solemn Walk” L. Moon copyright 2011
Raven’s Rain #microfiction #magpietales
I looked in her eyes.
So much sorrow
so much pain.
As tears began to fall
they were more turbulent
than the rain
what can I do
to remove this blight?
for she is my everything
my true love’s delight!
Yet what can a mere
black raven do?
I am small
meaningless
insignificant too!
Then I heard
the wind’s roar through the rain.
I will turn her black as the night
give her feathers
remove this bane.
We will never caress
nor will we embrace.
But of her tears
there is no memory nor trace.
thanks to Magpie Tales for a wonderful challenge to put this picture to words and to the beautiful Tess Kincaid who makes this happen
The eyes of the Wolf
Peering in deep golden eyes
something there behind the glow
What’s he thinking
does he know?
Feeling heat rise from his fur
resonating deadly grrr
seething from deep within
will I lose this fight or win?
Crouching low as if to spring
steady now keep your head
lest he realize my fear
In his eyes am I dead???
Written for a writing prompt at With Real Toads
thanks to Steve Loya for the photo and Creative Commons http://www.flickr.com/photos/flyingturtle/465785165/
What’s The Point of the Moon? #flashfiction
“What is the point? “
No one answered or cared.
The moon was full and bright.
I scowled at the sky.
I heard in the gentle breeze
“look in the reflection here”
I saw soft white light.
It was no reflection of my feelings
“There’s a point to the moon” I concluded
It keeps me sane!!!!
thanks to the G-Man for “sane” Friday Flash Fiction in 55
Happy Birthday #LeonardCohen
Inspired by Poet, Writer, Musician & Songwriter Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen keeps topping the charts…
Recurrent themes in Cohen’s early writings revolved around depression and suicide; later in his career he has written about political and social injustice. Cohen shows, in a profound way, that one’s writing can have a tremendous impact on our world and humanity.Behind the Bumper #poetry
It was a perfect no bumps
breeze blowing hair
California reality
**
kick off shoes
dip them in the stream of life
childish glee
***
bump
blow out in my rubber existence
stop can you help?
****
on bent knees
before the chrome bent image
I am behind you!
****
bump bump
as my limbs rattle
against the gravel of despair
*****
breathing hatred’s exhaust
leave me
on the side of the road
***
**
*
bump bump bump…
Photographic Images: Selection from “Oldies but Goodies Studebaker Series” L. Moon Copyright 2011
Life is Here… #FlashFiction
You are the source of life for our people.
We gather here as one people, purify, make offerings… burn our dead
send little lights on ripples hoping they will magnify into blessings
waves with no answers return
brown filth flows to our shore
from which our children drink deep
this is the life of the river…
thanks to G-Man the host of the weekly 55 Friday Flash Fiction
photo attribution: http://www.allmyanmar.com/Irrawaddy.htm
All Is No More #poetry
Kiss the wall
embrace the sands of the past
appeal to life’s eclipse
… no answer
mourn the day
curse the night
life ebbs
… no where to search
weep by candle light
inhale sea’s deep
hope for what is not
…last breath
Photography “The Sands of Time” ~L. Moon Copyright 2011
A Nightmare #911 #poem
Awakened in the mourn
Memory from Hell
Remembered too well
How could it be?
surrreal they fly
Flames from planes
Screams in the smoke
Extinguished too soon
Shake the dead
Ghosts of years
Resigned to memorials
Personal tears
Where our fears
This fateful day
Place them on hope
Chase sorrows away
An excellent series of photos chronicling 911 events http://www.september11news.com/AttackImages.htm
Just another Script #flashfiction
It was midnight
It had to be a moonless night or the story wouldn’t work.
There was a screeching noise in the darkness
“what is making that sound?” she shivered
“It’s just me” she heard the cold clammy hand slap on her back.
“That’s good” she smiled “I love it when my scripts come together. Who’s that???”
****************
Thanks to the weekly host of 55 Friday Flash Fiction. Join us and the G-Man for writing fun.
…All That is Left #microfiction
It seemed as if I had been gone a lifetime; it had been a mere two light years(give or take.) I knew the folks will be glad to see me. “Life will be the same,” I mused. “Caroline will lean over the fence smelling one of mom’s hybrid roses. I will have my arms covered in grease as I try to keep my Stude running.” She sure was a pain but I loved my Studebaker with the pristine blue paint job not a bit of rust on her…
…What had happened in those two lightyears I will never know. The only assurance my life had not been a dream was my Stude; she was buried in rock, mud, and who knows what else. “Look at the rust! Can this really be all that is left?” I shouted as raised my fist to the looming gray clouds.
A hearty thanks to Tess Kincaid who weekly prompts writers on her site Magpie Tales
Lost In Flight #flashfiction
“Last call for United flight 4571″
She hefted her carry-on into the overhead compartment
“I believe that is my seat 22B.”
“Yes mine is the window.”
She settled in for the flight with a magazine – not a flight magazine but it looked interesting.
“She was seated on the aircraft Lieutenant. We lost her somewhere in- flight.”
***
This is just one of a host of flash fiction in 55 shared with G-Man for Friday Flash Fiction
Thanks to Sean Memon for the Photograph http://www.flickr.com/photos/smemon/4820389847/
The Colorless Life #microfiction
“There was very little color in my life,” she sighed in her accented narration.
“We were poor, daddy rarely came home and when he did I always thought he was mean and he smelled funny.
He was a lousy drunk who would take what little mama could save in that pitiful cracked jar.
There was the man with the red umbrella though. He would come on rainy nights
( now I knows it’s because papa always stayed at the bar on those nights to keep warm on the bosom of a barmaid.)
ah yes the man with the red umbrella …
He always had a small toy for Petro and candy for me or a ribbon for my hair
….and wine for mama.
She didn’t need the wine for the smile was there the moment she heard his shoes splash against the cobblestones.
He told us stories of far away places and as our heads bobbed with sleep he would gently tuck us into bed.
When I awoke, the sun always shone after the man with the red umbrella had visited.
When I was older, I looked in Petro’s eyes and saw the light dance in his eyes like the man with the red umbrella.
I smiled knowing a little more about color…”
Thanks to Tess of Magpie Tales who always sponsors a wonderful time and offers delightful prompts.
Don’t they Get It? #flashfiction
It was the third job in three months.
“There is just not enough work. We had to let those on probation go.”
As a tear fell from her eyes realizing that there was no rent or food money, she heard the radio announce
sorrowful news that a computer icon was stepping down from his company.
Please join us at G-Man’s site as we write “poignant” fiction in 55 words.
What Can I Do??? #homeless #non-fiction #relief
I can not sit by
doing nothing
my friend she needs help
and the wee one too
living in a shelter
well they did
the count down has begun
another woman takes her number
next in line for a few weeks
it’s a rotating door you see
more needs than people to help
not enough numbers
for those in line
more children with nothing
no unspoken for coats
as winter ensues
I too have no job
I have been offered a roof
a place to lay my head
and not worry about tomorrow’s
TRIALS
except for the trial in my heart
What can I do for her????
Please tell me
SOON!!!!
This is not fiction – I just got an email from a person who is one of us. You have read her in blogs or tweeted her on Twitter she is without a thing.
…Another Day in Paradise #3wordweek
“Another day in paradise” the Guamanian radio announcer stated cheerfully as the radio alarm went off seemingly in her head.
“I have to stop guzzling those Mai Tais until 2.” She tried to shake her head free of the fog.
“What’s with the coconut shells?” she said in a voice too loud for the hangover she was trying to adjust to.
Then she saw a hairy arm and a knee.
She was never considered quiet but her shriek ”Who are you?” could have awakened the dead.
“It’s dead it has to be. Who is it?”
She had no recollection of last night. She deemed it wise to draw no more attention to her 10′x12′ barrack room.
“They are going to lock me up. I’ve heard that some people never see the light in the Navy brig. ” She commiserated with herself in her quietest voice.
Then she heard it – an odd kind of noise.
“Someone is digging their way up from Hell to accost me for my deeds.”
His face was disheveled but he was quite alive and he was far from gnashing his teeth.
“You aren’t a demon”, she cried
“I’ve been called alot of things as a sailor, doll, but demon is not one of them.”
I finally got the time to do writing prompts and had to give my friend Steve Isaac and Three Word a Week a try. With three words as a prompt who knows what will happen.
When We Were Young #microfiction
We were just kids then though we felt we could change the world
The boys were already leaving in their shiny new blues or greens for another land
giggling as they went
knowing when they returned the letter jacket would be replaced with a band of gold for the girls
Some smiles grew wiser as they opened each new account
Others lost their smiles completely when the horrid news came out
And now the eyes remaining
glisten with a wisdom not all their own
We never knew survival would extract such a precious toll
This great prompt came from Tess Kincaid over at Magpie Tales
Steam #poetry
Rising in a greying mist
heat abruptly takes a stand
meaningless on most accounts
this radiates from a hand
**
For when you put a heart to test
you see the furnace flair
what did you expect to find
when with love you dared?
***
Make a choice it seems to hiss
for better or for naught
you should have listened well my friend
when love’s lessons you were taught
****
It’s not a throw of dice you see
a case of flesh and bone
what will the answer be
cast away love like a stone?
Thanks for the steam gauge photo: http://www.flickr.com/photos/wwarby/3016567069/
Thanks to Katie for the perfect splash http://www.flickr.com/photos/mikeyskatie/5826818705/
The shipwrecked lady #microfiction”
“Come to me
I am lonely”
she cried into a dark stormy night
“come to me
for I am lonely”
He hears in her voice a trembling fright
“I am coming
dearest lady fear not I will come”
“Come to me
I am lonely
they will hurt me
as I sleep”
“wait for me
close not thine eyes
vigilance please keep”
“Do not come to me
for it is too late
I am ravaged
broken
torn”
“I am coming
oh my lady
of loving devotion
never be forlorn”
A poetic response to the prompt Shipwrecked at Sunday Scribblings
If I die young … #MicroFiction
A single tear dropped on the ivory lettered page in tribute to her beloved Pete.
He had wanted to live life fully, romantically, and on the edge.
“Oh Pete you didn’t need to get that close to the edge – you might still be with me now had you stayed on the path.
So if I die young it will not be because I was married to a gorgeous man with laser like blue eyes that pour desire and love into my being.
My last touch will not be touching the bronze skin of a beautiful, muscled athlete.
Lips will not kiss sweetness that exude words of love and praise
If I die young, it will be because I carelessly swerve in front of a semi having no desire to live this life alone without the man who placed a
band of gold on my finger less than three years ago~~~~~
Oh PETE!!!!!!”
Thanks to Jenny at SaturdayCentus for the prompt ”If I die young”
The Turkish Chef #poetry #cuisine
That sexy smile
pulling me
willingly toward
secrets keys
to his past
*
Those deep onyx eyes
searching
for beauty
on distant shores
*
perfect hands
sifting
glass like
pieces of sand
silently
*
Word weaver
luring my senses
toward ancient
conquests
harems and moonlit nights
*
Turkish connoisseur
conjuring perfection
Flavors between our lips
Spice filled delights
Savoring each bite
wish you could have met this handsome man – a Turk whose art form is fulfilled in the kitchen. Stories woven as we tasted and sipped…
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There’s no place like … #flashfiction #oz
The heel clicking worked perfectly to get me home (via cab)
I didn’t plan on guests however.
What does a girl with red shoes do with a…
sobbing lion
squeaky man of tin
messy straw man?
When all else fails throw the red shoes off , replace with: black shoes, black hat and a maniacle cackle.
***
Photography courtesy of Moondustwriter ~”Red Shoes” copyright 2011
Thanks to G-Man for the weekly fun and challenge of writing a tight write in 55. Go see for yourself and join the challenge.
Making Music. #flashfiction
He was going north to no where. She was going south to every where. They met somewhere. How it happened they would never know but for one brief interlude they made music. She sang classical; he wailed jazz. When it was finished and they packed their instruments, they knew – they had become harmony and melody.
Thanks to G-Man for weekly providing a forum for people to write flash fiction
