The Way we Were …. By The Blighters Rock.
such is the curse,
to remember every word
from each light smile,
or scolding too from scornful lips,
the scratching regret
of that left unsaid
cut too as memory,
as do the oft retold stories
behind old faded photographs
burn tears from eyes
that long to forget them.
I call a halt to conversations. You’re dead now. “Dead? Whom are you addressing?” “My mother-in-law … I keep replaying past conversations in my head, where I give her a befitting reply, something I couldn’t say earlier. But the acrimony doesn't stop. For the sake of my mental health, I need to let her go.” … Continue reading For my own sake
I've never heard of RSV. In the last two years, vested interests have spread a scare about the next wave of Covid impacting kids more than adults. I guess vaccine manufacturers and hoarders have a lot to do with these rumors. An investor on the Shark Tank India show was candid, "If you can create … Continue reading RSV
Bubble …. by Indira
It is a theme prompt. The lines to ponder are
The best and the worst
It’s time…
for the bubble to burst
we all love to live in our own bubble
bubble means our comfort zone
sheltered from
worries
problems
living
with people
who think alike
but
whenever
we settle deep in our comfort zone
God says:
for the bed or worst
it’s time
for the bubble to burst
we seek another bubble to make our
comfort zone
again
the bubble
burst
lifelong is this process of
build and destroy
A present for Raj ….. By Aboli Mane
Raj’s legs dangled off the window sill. He wasn’t supposed to do that but the youngster had a rebellious streak that got off on disobeying his parents. When he thought hard, his legs would swing involuntarily and right now they were hard at work. The afternoon sunlight washed over him as he basked in its warmth.
“Bhaiya*!!” Sumi’s plaintive cry crashed against his ears. Raj turned to glimpse the pig-tailed six-year old eclipsed by his shadow. “I’m telling your Maa!” She screeched. “No! Wait!” Given half a chance Sumi would tattle to any grown up. The girl took a devilish delight in watching her cousin Raj and brother Amit get scolded by their parents for their misbehaviour.
“Sumi! Listen I have a secret for you.” “What?” Sumi’s brown eyes shone like sticky molasses in light that poured into the children’s room.
“You’ve to promise not to tell any grown up.”…
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The Scout and Guide movement launched by Lord Baden Powell was revolutionary enough to keep me busy in school, painstakingly learning to tie knots of different kinds - reef, sheet-bend, fisherman’s and others. The rope tied to my belt felt nothing less than a pistol. Then, came the craft teacher who made knots look like … Continue reading Knots
Have I really been here before? Is it a scene from the last five novels I binge-read? I recall wanting to be there, and rewriting the plot in my style. The place has so much potential - in the mind, on earth or under water. Shadows creep in on me, telling me a very old … Continue reading Deja Vu or Veja Du?
it keeps us goingunverified trust in wordspromise potentialwe may just reach the right placethere are no alternatives Moonwashed Weekly Prompt
Marsha Ingrao interviews our friend Sadje …
I met Sadje when she started participating in my challenge, Writer’s Quotes Wednesday Writing Challenge #3 published two years ago almost to the day. She linked a beautiful poem and combined my challenge with two others, Write Photo, which Sue Vincent hosted before she passed, and now is hosted by another blogging friend, K.L. Caley at New2Writing, and Rag Tag Daily Prompt (RDP), hosted by Brian at Bushboy’s World.
I think you taught me to double dip, Sadje, and all my readers know how I love to include several challenges in each post. One thing, I noticed is that you had a ton of visitors before I ever saw the post. As a new challenge hostess, I felt kind of bad that I was so late to visit your post until I found out that you posted it for other challenges too.
As time went on, I started…
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Retro Tuesday …. by athling2001
I am keeping it simple this week with a picture prompt.
Image Credit: Mary Shelley
The prospect of death didn’t frighten him. He knew his family would grieve, but he’d be dead so he wouldn’t know or, by that time, care. Dead was dead. Period. None of that idioticcoming back as a bug if you hadn’t lived your life right; thought what was meant by ‘right’ was a question in itself. No angels blowing the trumpets with Saint Peter at the Pearly Gates, pointing either up or down.
How could he? There was no heaven and no hell. No monster wreaking havoc upon a fellow for the rest of eternity.
Dead. Was. Dead. Period.
His mother was dead. His father. Aunts and uncles, maybe some nieces or nephews. Come to think of it, there wouldn’t be anyone to grieve him anyway.
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