Poetry, short story, SundayScribblings

the world is spinning spring page 8

napowrimoo 2011
my everyday journal day 8, page 8

this everyday journal comes in handy at the oddest moments. i began day 1 of the napowrimo 2011 excited with the anticipation of the finish fully loaded for completion. each day embraced soft and smooth as the freshly laundered shirts of my lover. well that all changed once the dawn of day 7 appeared and took off as a fast filly running a renegade herd. all the while i kept up with my two feet doing what i was suppose to be doing. but by noon i had to acknowledge the anchor of my reasoning was sorta sputtering slow quick in an unseen quicksand yanking all thoughts askew. preoccupied with more pressing nothings i just sorta let go in absence and went with the winged current i was caught in. washed ashore there at the end of the day entangled in bunches of tied up empty words going every which way rushing nowhere and everywhere. extreme the exasperation, i let up on the accelerator slowed to about 85 then 50 then to a cruising 30 and pretty soon i was idle. pulling the plug i parked in a peaceful place and i gotta tell you it felt good, real good. a long while later i settled into supine and the sounds of still. it was around midnight quiet outside and the world was sleeping. unhurried i could hear the momentum of universal slumber.

let’s see now it’s day 11 or is it 12? who knows what day it is but i’m pretty sure it’s way past 8. i’m considering picking up day eight and kick start to catchup. a few seconds pass. ok, i skimmed over my options and, nah, i think i’ll just cruise on in my normal haphazardous literary fashion and catch it next year.

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Big Tent Poetry, Poetry

flashback forward

monday’s big tent poetry prompt: feet
photo: baby feet…,  mgrphotos, flickr

Baby Feet in my Heart

inquisitive eyes
hindsight hands
finger tracing translucence

an unexpected find
folded and found
torn and tattered
yellowed piece of paper
my hospital birth certificate

the paper says
i was born on this day
at this time and
stuck my feet in black ink
to prove i was

oh little feet
tell me the places
we shall go

size so small
soft as butter attributes
activated lines and shadows
eye witness to a future
the ol’ gypsy woman foretells

fresh little feet
did tell then
what now is when
how far i would travel
and the miles i’d run
to espy the rainbow’s
ancestral home

sometimes my feet sing
shifting from a long note
to a thousand quick beats of patter
skipping over burdens
as a child at play

oh he sez but they are pretty
otherwise he wouldn’t have stayed
it’s all in the feet he sez

consumed in a flashback
i’m walking forward
along weedy old tracks
some long forgotten
abandoned railroad line
remember the rattling train

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3WW, short story

real estate

it is good to be back at thom’s three word wednesday. this week’s offer of three are: effect, immense, shimmer

when all are sleeping and the hazy moon yawns, the effect of time empties into a dead end street of suggestion and sobbing. feeling a rather peculiar feeling, you soon set your eyes upon a happy looking home that secretly yearns for people to populate and bring a light of the living.

there to the left and down the hall is a quiet room that never leaves nor honors the presence of accumulation. a beautiful wooden door, set with an old ornate antique brass knob, guards the order with fierce devotion, letting nothing pass.

forgetting fear, the curious realtor enters the beautiful house sitting quietly among the old immense oaks towering the property. bewitched by beauty, she now lives quietly in the shimmer of a hazy moonlight when all is asleep. behind a wooden door in a remote room guarded so fiercely by a hidden smothered sound.

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3WW, magpie tales, Poetry

bold belongings

magpie tales photo no 34 and thom g’s three word wednesday. this week’s offering: engulf, imminent, tamper

a million moons wane at will
lost light illuminates

left alone the dust disappears
the wick no longer burns

abandoned fire engulfs the soul
infuse the flesh with ease

tamper not the ancient lock
the key comes along at will

blossoming imminent
a screen door slams

clamor cautious
your burning breath
you came back for me*

*i watched this movie once, don’t remember when or what movie and heard that line or something near to it… it obviously had an effect on me… as romance does… wrote it down on a piece of paper and i’ve been saving it to use somewhere… found the moment… can i do that and not specifically state which movie without getting into trouble…

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Haiku, Journal, magpie tales, monday poetry train

the sky is holding

magpie tales no 32 photo and monday poetry train revisited no 98
What’s the Weather Like? The Sky Is Gray….
Everyday Journal. day two, page two

already i’ve missed quite a few days from my ongoing everyday real life journal. funny how something that appeared as a new and exciting challenge slips through my hands as the sands in an hourglass. remembering dorothy, a prisoner in the bad witch’s castle, i shudder at the horror of time quickly passing…

summer breeze blows cool
around the corners
down the long narrow and wide ways
cool summer breeze comes
whispering wonders caught by
shivering leaves, swaying branches
nestled in between the unperturbed

comes fast quickly
the blowing of autumn
fickle leaves falling
turning brown from green
crunch the sound erases summer

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