"That’s me, stupid, not my grandmother.." "I can’t believe it." "Don’t. Renting a period outfit, and using the right filters does the trick." "But why should you want to look like this?" "I’m auditioning for a role in a period drama." https://rochellewisoff.com/2021/10/06/8-october-2021/
Connecting
your aura is golden speech divine or maybe it appears to be so from where I am -far below the place from where you are projected… I struggle hard to reach the real you connect my smallness with yours But hats off To the team That holds you aloft … I hit the ground again … Continue reading Connecting
Longhorn Crazy 🐜 #Monologue
Longhorn Crazy ….by Jane Aguiar
Shh …. What a mess. These trees are rotten and dirty. When will this man come to his senses? Apart from managing his oxygen banks, this man is destroying forests.
I was grumbling and suddenly my foot slipped and I fell into the water below the tree. My luck was strong, so I fell on the leaf of a Peepal tree.
Hey….what do you say. What kind of ?
You can see it in front of any temple. It has heart-shaped leaves.
Yes … that’s it.
But since the leaf was in the water, I had to stick to it.
Hey….What do you think? ….I’m a black ant.
My name is Longhorn Crazy. This is my scientific name but my biological name is different.
What did you ask? Scientific name mean?
Scientific is the name given by a scientist and biological is the name given by parents….Got it now?
So…
View original post 348 more words
Paths of a dreamer #poetry and prose.
Paths of a dreamer ….by Jude Itakali
Soft wondering breeze
Searching barren everglades
Nourishing a dream
Where do you go when you’ve given your all but you know you’re not yet finished?
You go to the next level!
My absence for the last couple of weeks has been due to a mammoth effort; striving to finish the penultimate draft of my upcoming novel. (before it goes to the editors)
It is a task that has become a dream
And a dream that has become a task
When the mind goes numb
But the goal keeps hounding at your soul
You keep pressing those keys
Existing in reality
But living amidst the pages
Oh how you love your characters!
How you adore their world
But how do you go beyond your ability–
How do you transcend?
I dip a thought in minds I admire
Turn the pages of those who’ve made worlds beyond comprehension
View original post 244 more words
Toxicity
they struggleto find a reasonto live, butin someoneelse's life - toxic vibes killfreedom loving souls https://wordcraftpoetry.com/2021/10/05/tankatuesday-weekly-poetry-challenge-poets-choice-3/
Pathways
Bare feet bruised by pebbles bloodless pain painless blood strewn on pathways -meaningless milestones -rocky obstructions -tiny stones puncture fast-moving wheels Each one has stories to tell describe their personal hell I just took too long to listen to write hurt in red https://dversepoets.com/2021/10/04/quadrille-137-throwing-poem-stones/
Both sides of the coin
As I walked through the streets…
I see people with contention, resignation, and contempt
I see poverty, the struggles, the tussles
I see pride, anger and foolishness
I see the hurt, and the love
I see the happy, and the sad
I see the hopeful and the grumpy
I see sadness, I see joy
I see the brokenhearted,
I see hope
I see humans survive and animals thrive
I see the ripple effects of the pasts
I see the simplemindedness of the people
I see the greed of the elite
I see the souls of the humble
I see the emptiness of the arrogant
I see the ignorance of the society
I see the exploitations of the enlightened
I see the misdirection of the young
I see the futility in the counsel of the wise
I see the groanings of the old
I see the ease amongst the children
I…
View original post 105 more words
Have wings, can’t fly…
I don’t know why this awakens deep seated fears time machines taking off to lifetimes lived before or those that exist, but yet to come to the fore It un-grounds me with no feet, just wings But I’ve never learnt how to fly high I may just float and then fall into bottomless pits between … Continue reading Have wings, can’t fly…
Caboodles
I moved the whole caboodle to a new premise yet bits and pieces lie scattered on deserted floors broken glass with stains of blood sticky particles that defy definition neither carbon or oxygen they just obstruct respiration when I breathe free in my dreams unpacked caboodles release unknown devils strategies to deal with the unfamiliar … Continue reading Caboodles
The Cook
The Cook ….by VJ Knutson
She’s in the kitchen
cleaning, prepping
sweetness, wishes
to nurture childlike
longings – sugar laden
gifts, honeyed chops
hooks her men with
culinary preciseness –
as legend prescribes
wants a strong, reliable
type to stir her ovaries
keep her dishing up love
Disappointment, like raw egg
drips off china plates –
shame of misadventures
she cannot scrub away
only serves tea now –
the smell of liquor
mingled with cigarettes
in lecherous calloused
hands turns her stomach
avoids the coffee maker
in the same way, despises
the way the bitter brew
makes her head spin –
wits need to be in order
has settled now as hostess
caters to near strangers
whose attention, riveted
by television screens, are
lulled by the rhythmic
sounds of her sanitizing
while stew simmers in pot,
dreams of romance shelved.
(Originally titled “Hatched”, this poem first appeared here in July, 2017. I am submitting…
View original post 16 more words
