heat scorching all the land
heat scorching all the land
“There’s a fire” a boy points
it looks like dust
the men go to check
flames are raging
inside a small school
men and women rush
saving everything they can
“Get out before the roof falls”
fire brigade of 25 children
“pump pump pump”
children carry 20 to 30 pounds of water
I try to put a bucket on my head
my arms will have to do
brave men push brick walls inward
courageous children pump and carry water
one school is gone
I sigh with relief – “no one is hurt this day”
tomorrow a new challenge
red hot flames of destruction
tired, sooty smiles
This fire happened 3 weeks ago while we were visiting Uganda. Our aim was to teach elementary children during the day and encourage a home of orphans and staff at night.
In the United States we would stand back and watch as firefighters battled a fire. Not so with these strong people who dragged burning, hot furniture out of a raging fire. Kelly, a 3-year-old, carried bucket after bucket of water to save the school.
In stead of the 16 elementary lessons I had prepared, we spent the week teaching 70 children (4-6 year olds) on the porch of the orphanage. I was thankful for a suitcase of crafts and a butterfly puppet, I packed last-minute, who helped my husband and I teach daily lessons.
In the mirror of a water bucket I see:
A blur of color
children with bright hearts
flames cannot douse courage
little girls pump, pump, pump
feet steadily move up the hill
little heads bear yellow water jugs
school books brown edged
blue chairs too hot to touch
ashen are next day’s reflections
parents anxious to know education’s fate
stories told, songs we sang, things we made
in the mirror of my heart
stout hearts of orphans
over flow of son’s rays of love
Fire rages fierce
days merge breeze takes them away
color filled smiles
Today’s prompt at Poet’s United is “Mirror.”
Edges of flesh
licked by flame
I can’t feel the hurt
am numb to the pain
burns many levels
or so they claim
no number named
nothing hurts tho
quite as much
when kindness is stolen
human fire’s touch
friend or family
leave me raw
debride the tissue
apply agonizing cream
bandage the sorrow
did you ever think
can’t create own words
in a well of dried ink
This week’s prompt at Poet’s United is Fire. My week started with an accident to my hand (because of fire). No need for much internal inspiration when you feel the prompt.
leaves begin to fall
colors wave toward the sky
autumn lights the fire
Carpe Diem’s prompt is Kiri Hitoha or arrival of autumn
Maybe it takes walking
through life’s fiercest heated fires
to arrive at green meadows
feel each blade of grass grow
Maybe it takes
enduring life’s harshest foamy storms
to revel in radiant sunshine
as it sparkles in your eyes
Maybe it takes
an upending, battering shipwreck
to relish salt’s splash
playing upon cheek and eyelash
no matter the fires
the storms or the wrecks
in your loving arms
is where I’ve found warm peaceful rest
Photography “Anchor” copyright L. Moon 2011 © All rights reserved
Wow tomorrow is the last of a month long blogging challenge hosted by the fantastic Ato Z Challenge Team. Thanks to Lee and all his crew as they have encouraged more than 1400 bloggers to do what they do best – write!
This year for A to Z challenge, I am using the Nautilus as my inspiration all month. The shell has many chambers (at least enough to fit all the letters.) You will find poetry, You will find some dark stuff (as I am attempting to branch into the horror genre), You will also see a smattering of short stories or prose (some with children in mind) others as lessons that we can all learn from. I look forward to meeting you and getting to know some talented writers over this month long writing journey. Please check over at the A to Z challenge and see what they are up to; they are a fine bunch of folks.
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I wanted to cover my ears as the flames licked the sky in Newcago.
“Help me. I’m on fire!”
“I can’t see…”
the wail of a small child
Helpless I watched. The firefighters tried but could not get to the center of the apartment complex.
Then the first bodies…
The charred hand of my favorite professor. He turned that ring around his finger while he lectured.
Find me a lonesome tree in OldYork where I can bury my nightly pain.
But I knew I was the only one who could find the scum who burned people for the hell of it.
The gnarled tree is today’s prompt from Friday Fictioneers led by our hostess Rochelle. It’s the kind of tree you could sit beneath for a picnic or a good rant. Have a look at what the Fictioneers are writing about today.
Week 3 in Newcago Serial When the Lights Go On
week 2 in Newcago Serial Can’t Kill The Thirst
Week 1 in Newcago Serial Secret Weapon
This rapid burn
losing ink on my page
raised caulderon of letters
illuminates my mind
for one moment
clarifies the past
I taste the ash
burning my moist lips
holding the last remnant
a little too long
the scorched after-taste
you put this flame
I don’t always use music to inspire my writing but I’ve been listening to Taylor Swift and Red and these words alight
Photograph: “Evening’s Fury” L. Moon copyright 2012
fire can be moved with a subtle air…
“I am air” the nymph proudly said to the lion after having her request refused.
“You can neither move me nor displace me. I am fire.”
“Ah we shall see.” the nymph smiled with a half wink
“We shall see…”
Nymphs (especially the air ones) have an uncanny ability to change shape and size.
“It is not a big blow but a small, elemental one required of this beast .” she giggled to herself.
A sleek feline entered the grassy meadow where a maned lion lay fast asleep. She circled first so that the silent air would carry her scent. stealthily she walked up to the beast and whispered “Catch me if you can”
She bounded off into the trees knowing when he caught her scent he would follow. She found another meadowy area and laid down. She rolled crunching the grass and making sure her scent was obvious. Before he arrived, she became a nymph once more and ascended into the trees to watch. He bounded toward the area and waited for her return. He seemed to look sad and displaced but soon roared and fell asleep.
The nymph was tickled but dared not disturb the beast.
“This tea party is the very best you’ve ever had.” all her guests exclaimed. The nymph agreed. The meadow was the perfect setting.
Smiling she thought “Air wins over fiery Mr Lion.”
In the breeze, a lioness returned to the meadow …
Photography “Falling Sun” L. Moon copyright 9/2012
This post is in response to Natasha Head’s Wednesday Wake Up Call over at New World Creative Union.
There is much we can learn from life even the life of a penny
There was a penny
copper in color
It had been handled for years.
People remarked “is this a trick – where is it’s other side?
It must have been lost at the mint.”
It had been lost
but not at the mint.
Life had worn off the other side.
The penny didn’t know what it was missing.
One day there was an lunar eclipse
the cosmos whirled.
People held fast to their reality
the penny lost was lost in a dream.
It fell from a pocket
aimlessly thrown here and there
one moment in a fire
another tossed down some stairs.
The penny picked itself up
looked at the moon
smiled saying “Im still here.”
‘So am I” she said with a glow.
“I thought all was lost
when darkness consumed me.”
The penny was different
dull was replaced with a coppery sheen.
A smile was seen on the face.
Unknown to the penny
there were now two sides
it was whole.
The moon was different too
it had a coppery glow!
Photograph – PublicDomain.com
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