Have You Ever? #submission #iamwriting #publishing

So you’ve submitted an article, a story, your masterpiece to X, Y, Z publishing. It’s your 1st, 10th, 100th…. submission.

Anxious, nail biting, calm resolve like after the first date. Will I get a call? What will I do while I wait?

It’s a good story. No Great!

It’s not the money (never has been). The story it’s one that needs to be heard. She lived it, she suffered.

Day by day, I wait to hear back. Will the publisher see the value in a woman’s suffering? It does not change the worth of the person who lived through it.

She’s Ugandan and the story embodies a time when most young women in the North were sex slaves to a guerilla army.

The story is the same…

the geography alone changes.

And women continue to survive some of the worst treatments men can inflict.

Her story will be told whether I write it or not…

Not Under The Tree #Emmanuel #Christmas #Hope

 

 

 

 

On this dry orb called earth, women continue to beg for peace, hope for their children to survive, and yearn for love. There is one love that seeks to save and heal the lost His name – Emmanuel.

I hear the beat

dry, fruitless dirt

soldier’s cruel boots

echo on the earth

***

We beg for peace

our limbs weak, torn

Messiah we wait

free us from scorn

***

Emmanuel

we await the day

that you will drive

world’s hate away

***

We beg for hope

our babes they die

cruel these times

no tears left in our eyes

***

A child born

who knew His pain

God’s son broke

death’s eternal chain

***

Emmanuel

we await the day

that you will drive

world’s hate away

 

 

Lens of Yesterdays #poetry #memories

 

“Who is that?” My daughter asks as she filters through 100 year old snapshots.

“I never heard their story. I was only a child when I looked at these photos last.”

“Which side of the family are they from?” She looks for any family likenesses.

“They look like dad’s family. I’m glad these didn’t get thrown away.”

“Who is this?”

“I think it’s my great-grandfather. I don’t know much about him. I think he was a grocer. That’s your grandfather when he was a little boy and this is your great-grandmother. I think you look the most like her.”

My daughter squints her eyes to see some resemblance.

My family and their past is in a black and white capsule. Much of what remains is in a shoe box. The family farm is gone and all the antiques burned up in a fire several years ago. I want to carry forth their past but there is so little that I know.

***

 

Box of sepia prints

few faces recognized

memories lost

*

little hands

smile covered with icing

I still hear that voice

*

brush away tears

people long gone

puddle in kodachrome

*

One of things that we do with family is look at old family photos. There are so many dialogues. One thing is a constant we continue to make memories even as we look at the past.

Enjoy the memory making with family!!

 

 

 

 

O Say Can You See #4thofjuly #freedom

 

“And the rocket’s red glare…”

In a wide-eyed gaze he stared

heard the sounds of cannon and musket

“the bombs bursting in air”

paradise was obliterated

swatting at bugs, ignoring the moist stench

“Gave proof through the night”

trudged forward into a world resembling a mirage

life was put on hold by madness

“That our flag was still there”

he shook himself back to reality

freedom comes with a cost

Happy Forth of July to my fellow countrymen

One Cannon #haiku #memorialday

rough log house

surviving century’s seasons

feather beds

*

beneath cool shade

verdant battlefield covers scars

blood stains

*

whistling through reeds

sun warms each blade of grass

soldiers memories

…And they fell. No matter the mother’s sorrow or the lover’s tears they could not be revived. Such is the fate of the fallen warrior. I chose to be grateful for the sacrifice and  the bravery.

Holy Mountain #haiku

Kristjaan shares for today’s  prompt at Carpe Diem Haiku Kai: ” I discovered that “Shevet Uul” is the valley of Shiveet Khairhan Mountain and that it is a very sacred place for the Tuvan people. Shirveet Khairhan means “holy carved mountain” and it points towards a very large amount of petroglyphs which can be found on this mountain. Those petroglyphs are telling the creation of the Altai Mountains region and its religious meaning for the Tuvan.”

rock wall

 

 eyes trace fissures

breeze carries holy chants of old

hands caress the past

Photograph: Rock Formation in New Mexico by L. Moon 2012

 

 

 

The Ultimate Sacrifice #memorialday

soldier's helmet

Wind beats at the flag above the memorial

nothing still about the death of these lads

they stood impossible ground

defying the odds as they fought

as the storm raged they trudged

I lift my eyes unable to stifle a tear

names of men that I will never know

who died that I might enjoy freedom

air force memorial

Today we celebrate those who died not just in service to our country but because they believed in the cause of freedom. I salute their bravery in thanks.

 

Bethlehem #poetry #Christmas

Shepherds-Field-300x225

 Outside of Bethlehem

rocks, sheep and cold

better than noisy masses

for the city was over full

outside of Bethlehem

we dozed as the sheep slept

never imagining

the concert that we’d get

outside of Bethlehem

unusual night for us

the skies were a blazing

with the Heavenly chorus

outside of Bethlehem

a message we received

we cowed and fearful

in angels we believed

inside of Bethlehem

we beheld and we saw

the babe, the son of Mary

we bowed in silent awe

inside of Bethlehem

inspired with a reason

a message for the masses

“wake up to a new season”

outside of Bethlehem

a tear creased our eyes

disbelief and hatred

this king they would despise

nativity

Please if you have time to visit Pen of the Damned read:  “Other Side of Bethlehem.” This is a sad and chilling contrast of that precious night and a look at the cold heart of man.

The top picture of the fields of Bethlehem is from the website of the Salvationist. There are many pictures and reflections about Bethlehem.

Look Up #poetry #devotion

 

wright

They looked up to the sky

wondering how the birds might

Men in their minds worked

puzzling over to flight

Time after time they tried

always another glitch

falling apart at the seams

so unlike the finch

trials they persevered

eager to gain height

broken bones and wings

brothers were named Wright

higher and higher we fly

looking beyond the loon

forging a further frontier

what marvel to walk on the moon

***

It took commitment (day in and day out) for men who wanted to fly to build that dream. It takes (daily) commitment, a focus forward, and stamina to strive toward a relationship with our God.

“Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead.”

Philippians 3:13

 

Shared today with the folks at Poet’s United Poetry Pantry.