They wont move while you watch

my mind wills the hands around your face

tick tick I can’t wait

open the glass face and let me in

move now move quick

my life is in your perfect sphere

midnight… one… two… three…

dawn rises beautifully clear

as you pull me close to thee

forever

no air to breathe

closed in on all sides

no one whispering “it will be alright”

this darkness more than a bad dream

Thanks to Jenny Matlock for this challenge she gave us all black and 25 words to give you a jump!!! Don’t look behind you!!!

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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“Honey what are you doing with your breakfast?”
“Remember the story all the kings horses and all the kings men?
They couldn’t put Humpty Dumpty together again.
I felt so sorry for him that I couldn’t eat him.”
“hmm that must be the 100th excuse you have made for not eating breakfast this morning? Ok I give in I have one more stashed box of Captain Crunch. But no boats in your milk.”

This is part of a picture prompt for Centus Saturday hosted by the delightful Jenny Matlock

… and with them

 last vestige of hope

swept away in the current

a stormy existence

**

That life boat

in the haze

 called to me

it’s unattainable

***

… and so

I live

caught in the current

below the waves

***

one hope

the end will come soon

for what is there

to give me breath

***

thank you for …

a momentary ray

happiness

on that little boat

***

…and you must

stay afloat

for others

 need hope

… and you!!!

Each Friday is awesome – many writers and bloggers get together and write a story in a mere 55 words. This piece is a little more prose and symbolic in nature. Thank you to G-Man for hosting weekly!

Thanks Mike for this awesome shot off Morro Bay…http://www.flickr.com/photos/mikebaird/3016985275/

                                                                                                   We are afraid of truth,

afraid of fortune,

afraid of death,

and afraid of each other.

Our age yields no great

and perfect persons.

– Ralph Waldo Emerson

“Yes I understand” I said as I wiped a tear from my eyes. It was the worst thing I had imagined. Fast paced cancer that would consume my body in…

“What do I do first?” I scream at the unsympathetic walls. No response.

I sit down and do the only thing I know how to do write. My husband first; this letter is surprisingly easy for he can read between every line. He has read this scenario and has heard my fears. That’s done.

Next – My eldest he is all that is good about me. He is talented and will take his art further for he is brave. His mind goes beyond the galaxies and probes the mind. “What do I say to him? This is for you,” as I tuck the book of stories that were written for him and about him.  My book will never a best seller but he will be. “I love you my dearest son goodbye for now.”

“How can I say goodbye to you? You are my best friend. With you I have travelled the globe. We should have been twins not mother and daughter. Here are the tickets and the airmiles I saved for all our future trips. Go – I will be there.”

“Little one: of all of them you need me the most. You have since you were born. You must let go now. Please be strong for both of us. I am  in every note you play. Every duet you sing hear my voice combined with yours – forever.”

“Goodbye to you. I love you more than life itself. I breathe my last breath with a kiss of love and thanks to you with love from my soul.”

and with that last drop of ink …

Here is the prompt:

You just discovered you have fifteen minutes to live.

1. Set a timer for fifteen minutes.
2. Write the story that has to be written.

Fluidity     v    softmotion

our worlds ~converge

some call it love

commitment

us

V

intertwined

united

undulating

as one

*

*

why

pushing away

small

sharp

ascerbic

words

crashing

against

my heart

listen

hear

cracking

begin

one line

becomes

another

ugly

ripple

sound

crashing

existence

until there is

nothing

toput

back

to

g

e

t

h

e

r

!

!

V

It’s another week for Flash Fiction on Friday in exactly 55 words with G-Man. The smashing host from coast to coast.

Thanks to Steve Jurvetson http://www.flickr.com/photos/jurvetson/80023028

&

LLRead http://www.flickr.com/photos/llreadll/3573278617

Celestial Love

(Part of Ode I: Initial Love and Ode II: Dæmonic Love and Celestial Love)

Higher far,
Upward, into the pure realm,
Over sun or star,
Over the flickering Dæmon film,
Thou must mount for love,—
Into vision which all form
In one only form dissolves;
In a region where the wheel,
On which all beings ride,
Visibly revolves;
Where the starred eternal worm
Girds the world with bound and term;
Where unlike things are like,
When good and ill,
And joy and moan,
Melt into one.
There Past, Present, Future, shoot
Triple blossoms from one root
Substances at base divided
In their summits are united,
There the holy Essence rolls,
One through separated souls,
And the sunny Æon sleeps
Folding nature in its deeps,
And every fair and every good
Known in part or known impure
To men below,
In their archetypes endure.

The race of gods,
Or those we erring own,
Are shadows flitting up and down
In the still abodes.
The circles of that sea are laws,
Which publish and which hide the Cause.
Pray for a beam
Out of that sphere
Thee to guide and to redeem.
O what a load
Of care and toil
By lying Use bestowed,
From his shoulders falls, who sees
The true astronomy,
The period of peace!
Counsel which the ages kept,
Shall the well-born soul accept.
As the overhanging trees
Fill the lake with images,
As garment draws the garment’s hem
Men their fortunes bring with them;
By right or wrong,
Lands and goods go to the strong;
Property will brutely draw
Still to the proprietor,
Silver to silver creep and wind,
And kind to kind,
Nor less the eternal poles
Of tendency distribute souls.
There need no vows to bind
Whom not each other seek but find.
They give and take no pledge or oath,
Nature is the bond of both.
No prayer persuades, no flattery fawns,
Their noble meanings are their pawns.
Plain and cold is their address,
Power have they for tenderness,
And so thoroughly is known
Each others’ purpose by his own,
They can parley without meeting,
Need is none of forms of greeting,
They can well communicate
In their innermost estate;
When each the other shall avoid,
Shall each by each be most enjoyed.
Not with scarfs or perfumed gloves
Do these celebrate their loves,
Not by jewels, feasts, and savors,
Not by ribbons or by favors,
But by the sun-spark on the sea,
And the cloud-shadow on the lea,
The soothing lapse of morn to mirk,
And the cheerful round of work.
Their cords of love so public are,
They intertwine the farthest star.
The throbbing sea, the quaking earth,
Yield sympathy and signs of mirth;
Is none so high, so mean is none,
But feels and seals this union.
Even the tell Furies are appeased,
The good applaud, the lost are eased.

Love’s hearts are faithful, but not fond,
Bound for the just, but not beyond;
Not glad, as the low-loving herd,
Of self in others still preferred,
But they have heartily designed
The benefit of broad mankind.
And they serve men austerely,
After their own genius, clearly,
Without a false humility;
For this is love’s nobility,
Not to scatter bread and gold,
Goods and raiment bought and sold,
But to hold fast his simple sense,
And speak the speech of innocence,
And with hand, and body, and blood,
To make his bosom-counsel good:
For he that feeds men, serveth few,
He serves all, who dares be true.

I cut my teeth on Emerson. The last stanza of this poem is not only my favorite but hopefully a creed I live by.

Born to a life

so wrought with pain

none of your doing

Daddy took his life

unable to face another rain

***

Mommy was floating

on the top of her drink

sorrow pulled her down

like her olive

nothing left but to sink

***

Natalia you swam

against the tide

so smart

full of hope

striving to be more alive

***

What they could never attain

dear girl from another land

you took on bravely

soared like an eagle

now come take my hand

***

I will show you places

feel the universe pull

play with the stars

you belong

in Wonder full

A bit of background: I have been all over the world holding events for children. I am always drawn to the little girls whose lives are a mirror image of my own. The little girl I write about is Ukrainian whose daddy took his life. The small girl grew up in bars until one day her mother was thrown into prison. The woman who is raising her is a babushka ( a grandmother) raising a child with energy in body and in spirit. I am inspired by these survivors who never give up.  They deserve Wonderful!!!

The best in golf I have to lick.

…and my putter god is AWOL

Many Thanks to the Susan the fairy of Microfiction Monday. she waves her hand and things happen in 140 characters.