Leonard Cohen an exceptional talent and inspiration.
On the road of life there are sunshine days and their are exhaust filled bumps in the road. Yet each day is an adventure in a Studebaker
It was a perfect no bumps
breeze blowing hair
kick off shoes
dip them in the stream of life
blow out in my rubber existence
stop can you help?
on bent knees
before the chrome bent image
I am behind you!
as my limbs rattle
against the gravel of despair
breathing hatred’s exhaust
on the side of the road
bump bump bump…
Photographic Images: Selection from “Oldies but Goodies Studebaker Series” L. Moon Copyright 2011
Where is your world? Some live by the river… the continuum birth to death happens there.
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
when life closes in where does one search? A wall, a sea, a God?
What does a world do in the face of a disaster like 911?
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
Where our fears
This fateful day
Place them on hope
Chase sorrows away
What do writers do late at night? Can their stories become too real???
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.
Coming home is never what you expect especially after experiencing time travel
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