It was a cold and frothy night
blood dripped from my fangs
I shivered at the thought
I looked at myself in the reflection
“I’m a wolf why am I shivering?”
the inner me spoke
“you are human only when it suits me
and wolf when you are a beast”
I was reminded that as a human I’m vegan
I really can’t stand the sight of blood
and yet it tasted so good on my lips
“aack” I woke up with the dawn
“I hate those kind of dreams”
I thought as I padded to the sink
washing the stench of wolf from my nostrils
I failed to see the woman draped over my white sheets
WordPress has a delightful prompt for today at Daily Post – Howl at the Moon
“Follow your inner moonlight; don’t hide the madness.” — Allen Ginsberg
Et Tu? Do you follow Ginsberg’s advice — in your writing and/or in your everyday life?
Thanks to Fuseli for inspiring so many with his painting The Nightmare which I believe is in the collection at the Tate.
When love is elusive as the mist at night where do you go but to your dreams…
She sat by the trickling stream deep in thought.
She gazed at her only companion the moon; it was lovely and ethereal.
It reminded her of years of dreams. “If only…” She sighed.
Quietly he sat beside her; he wrapped his strong arms around her.
She leaned against his shoulder. He turned her face toward his. He gazed into the depth of her mesmerizing blue eyes.
“Those eyes, I know those eyes.” He could have looked there forever.
He traced her face with his thumb. He combed his fingers through her long, silky hair.
He breathed in the clean fragrance of her.
His finger traced her lips and paused.
He lowered his lips to hers so gentle yet filled with unspoken desire.
“Those lips…” taste of a lifetime of hope, of waiting, of …
…The breeze gently lifted a tendril of her hair and caressed her cheek.
She leaned in to whisper a kiss on lips never forgotten.
He was gone…
where did he go????? the reader asks
Thanks to the A to Z challenge co-hosts for the daily fun.
photography: “La Luna” & “Garden Path” copyright 2012 L. Moon
Is there a solution to pain? The wind and the raven have theirs.
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
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
You always amazed me with that sweet quiet smile
I would pull into my driveway we always talked for awhile
I loved the deep brown wrinkles that formed a content countenance
I never saw a frown as you leaned over our fence
So few of us knew the layers of the real you
A master gardener for a well known organization was your due
Your work was written up in magazines here and nation wide
I saw those gardens – you have the perfect eye
How surprised was I to find in a simple interview
Of your marked heroism your bravery too
Your dear precious wife proudly brought out your medal
so I plied the story – you played like a fiddle
Layer by layer your story was told
relocated to Tanforan’s racetrack where horses were foaled
Your farms taken your family sent afar
I knew very little then about Manzanar
there I saw “off limits” and shame in your eyes
When that place was mentioned a place you despised
You were proud to be a Nisei son
your parents sought a better life not to be shunned
How could a nation summarily label you as the enemy?
But they did so without thinking – it was delivered shamefully
You were just 18 when you signed for the 442nd
You would have signed up to fight with any unit I reckon
Proud were you and your Japanese brothers
To fight under the American flag you had no druthers
“Go for Broke” was your cry
Many young lives for America died
Each of you shed blood for the cause
Didn’t America know it was their loss?
That limp so dear to me came with pride
to carry several fallen back to safety one lived another died
You are a hero in many eyes
You bring beauty into the world every day
The flowers your beauty always on display
But the thing I realize I see
Is a man with a rich history
And now when I see you I ponder awhile
I dwell on the heart of the man with the tanned wrinkled smile
“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate the opportunity to tell you what you have done for this country.
You fought not only the enemy, but you fought prejudice.
And you won.
You have made the Constitution stand for what it really means: the welfare of all the people, all the time.”
– President Harry S. Truman speaking to the 100th Battalion and 442nd Regimental Combat Team, July 15, 1946
Today I had one of those days.
Spell it out and one word appears -Inept
Inept? Let’s see what Webster says:
- Not elegant or graceful in expression; “an awkward prose style”; “a clumsy apology”; “his cumbersome writing style”; “if the rumor is true, can anything be more inept than to repeat it now?”.
- Revealing lack of perceptiveness or judgment or finesse; “an inept remark”; “it was tactless to bring up those disagreeable”.
Inept in my life:
I’m a writer. I definitely have “cumbersome writing style” moments or I can be so inept that I miss “it” in a particular piece of prose. When I am inept as a writer, however, no one gets hurt. My poetry I realize can dig pretty deep. Poetry does that it can be fun loving but often poetry aims at the heart. My poetry aims at the heart in this case like a dart.
I’m also a friend. I love people and I believe am generous and sensitive. But I am also the friend who lacks tact or fails at perception. I don’t even see it when I say something that is offensive or thoughtless. I must have been born with an inept gene. No excuse.
So what do I do to repair my prose? Tighten it up I suppose.
What do I do to repair the breach with a friend? No word can erase the message I send.
So in the future words of mine take note. Before writing or speaking, take a vote. Learn from the past trend- lest ineptitude become a friend.
Today’s motto: Words are expendable- friends are not!