“You give voice to the songs I write! But what would your melodious voice be, without the flow of words?” “Be not vain! My voice gives body to your thoughts.” let me take you somewhere there where erosion of my self enriches your being feels like a union of unreal beings independent but adding value … Continue reading Bonding with the Muse
Anna dressed carefully in her black dress, just allowing a dash of white in the scarf and bag. She had been widowed recently, and was following the mourning regimen. She noticed people keep their distance in respect to the widow. Some kind-hearted souls offered membership to the local clubs, so that the crushing loneliness did … Continue reading The Crushing Loneliness
“Congratulations, Ira! You have won three prizes this year. We really appreciate your performance, despite working with limited means.” The school principal patted the back of the nine year old, who was smiling from ear to ear. “Ma’m, I would like to be a veterinary doctor, when I grow up…” “You are good enough to … Continue reading Her friend
It is a collage this week. Writers will connect to it easily.
So, let the fingers align to imagination, and bang on the keyboard. The format can be a a story/poem/rant/anecdotes/journalistic coverage of events/ reflections as usual.
Pour out, and let it flow ….
Flipping in long grass,
skipping, leap-frogging, cartwheeling over stiles,
feet so fleet it feels like flying,
flopping to sit cross-legged on fragrant nature’s floor.
Grass stained shorts. Grubby fingernails
cut careful slits through slim daisy stems.
Threading, making chains to dangle from supple neck.
Carefree sunshine and family love.
Once, this was me.
Breasts swelling, bursting
from a shock-horror bra, hips curving,
and worse, a monthly sticky thing that hurts,
which Grandma calls the curse.
Father stealing small licks to assuage the tip
of his hunger.
Mother loving, supporting
this poor little changeling.
Feeling dirty. filthy images of hot flesh slapping,
moist organs fitting,
slipping wetly…
View original post 613 more words
Thanks Sammi.……. this week’s prompt opens up a lot of possibilities!
The irregular edges of a stone on the beach add depth and interesting angles, but in time, erosion takes its toll and all that is left is a smooth shiny surface.
It may even reflect what is around it, but that is a borrowed image, not its own.
To an observer, it may appeal for its simplistic shape, but it is, at the end of the day, just a stone.
This heart is made of stone.
Once filled with love and promise,
It needed nurturing
Not sacrificed on the altar of greed,
Oppression and servitude.
The ragged edges could be smoothed,
Enhancing the depth of a love returned.
Tyranny eroded the heart,
And with it the Soul.
All that is left is
A cold memory.
freshness of candor rise of truth strike terror in stale power mind-sets fearing a fall Saturday Mix at MLMM
grilled and seared to perfection by the Chef I await a new life in processed form souls are intangible but immortal SoCS
Everybody tells you about the Power of Habit – how it becomes your character, personality or destiny. Nobody tells you about that one mind-set which creates habit. It is not an addiction. It is not a compulsion. It is not inheritance. It is a sense of pride in being different. It is self-glorification in doing … Continue reading The One Mindset that enslaves you to Habit
Being larger than life is no joke. I look at the white floating figures on the far-off horizon. I love to think that those are reflections of my glory, or wannabes trying to imitate my grandeur. But, I cannot eliminate fear – that they are competitors waiting to pounce and dislodge me from stardom. Who … Continue reading Larger than Life
She was beautiful in so many ways. Nature had blessed her with striking physical beauty, the sort you couldn’t help but stare at. But she wasn’t a hollow beauty she contained an inner beauty that captivated me far more than her external appearance.
Once her eyes transfixed on you there was no way out. She held you and you awaited the next move from her that might send you into raptures of delight or writhe in her derision.
But she was playful. She saw the funny side of things and she wanted you to enjoy what she enjoyed.
She was very aware of her physical beauty, her face like that of an Egyptian Goddess could be deceiving and she liked to be photographed in that style but underneath lay a woman who wanted so much to enjoy life.
Being a real person was important to her, she’d reach out and…
View original post 47 more words
