Sit With Me

Come, my child,
Sit for a spell.
Because life is wild,
Listen to this story well.

A story that is full of pain,
You’ve had your share, no doubt.
It has parts where love will reign
But along an unfortunate route.

Two shall meet, eyes full of hurt,
Trouble brewing worse than ants,
A treasure’s authenticity slinging dirt.
But trust will tilt the balance.

Listen close, I can feel you go,
The story is not all heart break.
There is adventure and a foe
And trouble for gossip to make.

Come back, it is not just talk.
I promise a strong tale of lore.
Please lean closer, stop your walk,
My talk will not be a bore.


via Wordle 265 — The Sunday Whirl

This week’s wordle is dedicated to everyone who visits people in nursing homes. Whether it be for religion, sharing information, or just to listen. Your deed has not been ignored. Visit Create the Good to learn more about volunteering with seniors.

Ode to Nature’s Cleansing

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Threats of wind and rain
Bringing loved ones home
Fear of the unknown’s pain
Waiting for the ones that roam

Waiting for that one call
To share safety’s news
Praying for none to fall
And speedy rescue crews

Cleaning the grounds like a flush
Buildings and bridges go under
Water rapids flowing in a rush
Waiting out the next thunder

The press of time to beat the flood
Tender thoughts for those that left
Nexus of storms weaving walls of mud
Nature’s swear and Heaven’s list

Oct 4 Sunday Whirl

Flood Waters in South Carolina

I just wanted to share with everyone who might look at my writing site what is going on right now. The video below was taken by yours truly today. The bridge is right near where I live. I hope everyone else is safe out there.

Quote

Memories of a long time past

All are now just memories

Experiences and dreams amassed

Gone as the mind empties

A mural of community

Of times long passed

Once a symbol of unity

Now a face recast

A building with a new face

A painting gone without a trace

Will everything be changed

When the past is rearranged?


In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Ode to a Playground.”

In memory of a mural I helped paint on the side of one of my high school buildings. Now gone and the building part of our town Recreation Department.

Changes

A Christmas Prayer

That time of year has come again

For singing of good will to men

That holy day approaches fast

While we still remember the last

A scar is found on the holiday

As we buy gifts and forget to pray

Rushing about for that best gift

All alone our spirits shift

A sigh instead of laughing

Our good will turns to acting

As we ingest our holiday drink

Hoping to pull us from the brink

At the midnight chime arrival

We celebrate holiday survival

Pale and drained we start to pray

That we’ve not forgotten any today

I offer up my silent prayer

For all who stray into the snare

That your Christmas is all it ought

Just as plain as we were taught

** Wordle #193 Recon I can use this as my next year’s Christmas card?😉 Merry Christmas everyone!

Children bookcover Aside

I took the plunge and it’s scary as all get out.

I’ve published my first book on Smashwords.com. If you like you can find it at https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/502527 and soon it should be available at any eBook retailer. Until the end of the year you can purchase it from Smashwords for half price using the coupon code: QS63Q

Children of the Great King

crocus

A Choice: Dark Garden or Alone in the Night

Dark Garden

At a crossroads in life

I shiver in my strife

I stand alone in the night

On a path thick with mud

Wise owl, where is your wisdom?

Where do I get the fervor from?

Crystal dew begins to enthrall

While Suicide Tree stands near

Diamond sparkles in the inky night

Brings a decision to greater height

Missing birds thread the air

Crocus tears fill my heart

Flower beads on rose thorns

Shine while the moon warns

I shiver in my strife

At my crossroads in life

rose thorns with dew drops

Alone in the Night

As I sit alone in the night

Suicide Tree standing behind me

A lone owl quiets my fright

As it becomes a mortal tree

In the lightening dawn I now can see

The dew tipped rose and crocus petals

Draw me from the crossroads behind me

The sun shine shrinks the mud and nettles

The awakening of the birds, all free

Has awakened a thread of peace

The dark fervor shaken from me

Thorns in my heart release

 crocus


This image is from The Old Woman in the Wood, fairy tale number 123 by the Brothers Grimm.

Transformations

I’ve come to love the silence.

As a victim of violence I never thought I would.

My last thoughts as a human child was running from my father. I had forgotten to finish raking the yard and he had come home early from the bar. I had no idea what he was going to do. All I knew was that I had to run.

Run…

I can’t run anymore, but run is what I did that day. I ran to save my life. I heard his yells… his screams… I was terrified and ran. I ran through the woods, praying for something. I didn’t even know what I was just praying for something… an out. A hiding place. A savior. Anything at all.

I could hear my father growing closer and fear grabbed me in its iron grip. I couldn’t see anything. I just ran.

Terror struck me just as the tree did. I had run full speed into a tree. I could feel the lower branches gripping me, hiding me. I prayed… begged off all that was holy that I was truly hidden as I had the crashes of my father running through the woods.

I can save you. But there’s a price.

There’s always a price, I told the voice in my head. I sobbed silently as I thought about my childhood so far. What other price could I pay?

Stay and be calm. I have you, little seedling.

I felt more branches push closer around me. The crashing of my father came closer and I could hardly breath in my fear.

They went past.

I could scarcely believe my fortune. I couldn’t think of what I would have to pay for this. I could never go home again. I refused to think of him again.

You are my seedling now.

My eyes grew wide as the import of my situation became clear. I could feel myself growing smaller, until myself was nearly not. I could feel my hardened body picked up and carried away. I didn’t know then where I would end up, but I knew that I would no longer be hurt or threatened by my father again.

I have come to love that silence.

Short fiction based on a planned novella story.

Jello Eaters

My prayers go out to Jello Eaters

Living by the beep of meters

The ones who give blood to know

Waiting on the lab coats to show

Visitors and guests that pester

While their anxiety still festers

Constant tests and hospital fluff

All the while finding words tough

For every ouch and every meal

Pain center being a little too real

For those watching the chart readers

My prayers go out to the Jello Eaters