standing behind me ~ almost touching in the dark ~ your breath in my hair — © Lize Bard @ Haiku out of Africa
Day: November 4, 2018
In the midst…
Scent
The lingering embers of sweet grass on cold October nights
Dew on the morning honeysuckle that warmly wrapped us in July
Star-dust trailing across a seemingly never-ending August sky
September rains, the forest and full moon tide
Tiny breathes in December as snowfall blankets outside
Opening blooms and light announcing May has arrived
Sipping a warm latte while bundled on the beach, moments in April’s time
Laughter and glances, Shiraz, the scent of March for you and I
You asked what your scent was
It is the softness and perfection of taste, memory and time
~Alisa Hutton
Nature of nature
The nature of nature…
Nature is full of vibration.
Never truly silent
For it is alive with pure energy.
Always a wise companion.
In moments that you need
Some respite and understanding.
Its very nature shows the way.
Seek nature to energize your being.
Seek its freshness of spirit
When the world gets too weary
Every once in a while.
Nature never competes.
It is never in a hurry.
Nature never rushes you
It continues on its path
As it seems meant to!
Allow your own nature
to blend with the bliss of nature.
Sense its synchrony
Envision its endurance
Marvel its magnificence
Wonder at its wisdom
Connect with its composure
Understand its inate balance.
In itself by itself with itself .
In and around you.
Know you are nature
And nature is you.
Ultimate Oneness in the diversity
Such is the nature of nature.
Savvy
Limitless
Daily Quote
This is a great quote on a normal day, but especially so this month. Focus on the writing, get words on the page. Write with abandon, banish your critic to a galaxy far, far away. Listen to your gut, focus on your instinct, invoke your muse.
What are you writing today?
_________________________________________
Keep on writing.
Jo Hawk The Writer
Breadcrumbs
“There is no secret left in the fact that I am madly in love with you. My happiness glows on my face and my smile gives it away. I have tried hard but now I can’t do that anymore.”
–Sheila Johns
You left a trail for me to follow
little drops of love and passion
sprinkled here and their
on my soul
every time you touch me
and every time you make me whole
I was too naive to understand
I was too lost in your
words laced with
passion and desire
to know completely and for sure
that you left those
straight to your heart
those breadcrumbs for me to follow
I was too innocent to understand
that every time your fingertip
traces my curves
they are making a map
on my soul
to find that hidden treasure
for me to look for it
and to savor
for the time eternal
and every time…
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Calling All Writers! The Sudden Denouement Short Story Contest is Now Open For Submissions
The Contest is officially open!
Since its inception in 2016, The Sudden Denouement Literary Collective has had the privilege of featuring some of today’s most fearless writers. With members that span the globe and editors who share a passion for pushing boundaries, we as a collective have enjoyed reading, promoting, and watching the success of each individual artist as they have grown in their craft and left their mark upon the literary world.
Now, as writers and readers, editors and fans, we at Sudden Denouement Literary Collective are ecstatic to open up the doors to our outstanding, award winning collective, and invite you all in to pull up a chair and tell us your stories.
The Sudden Denouement Literary Collective, and Sudden Denouement Publishing, are pleased to dip our toes into the waters of great literary contests and announce our first ever short story literary prize with a call for…
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Her Little Fingers
Her little fingers
almost pudgy, but not quite,
grasp at something beyond her reach
and, instead, touch me
‘The portrait of you’
DO NOT MISS The last stanza of John’s – THE PORTRAIT OF YOU!
The portrait of you
Phantom dreams led me to you. You were my illusion of perfection. I was flattered when you condemn me to loving you forever by a gesture of hello and releasing your veil of perfection. You create nuptial dances into early mornings and create portraits of never-ending love into the German Winter nights.
I recited poetry to you, deep into the midnight hours. We found the charity of peace and harmony enough to warm up the cold days and nights of the German Winter. Beneath the Spring moon. The utopia of love fell to earth. I learn the hollow heart cannot be seen when camouflage by the perfection of beauty. I learn beauty wasn’t perfection.
Just an asylum of wishes and wants to diminish and condemn hopeful men to want, what they should not need.
Old men in the old taverns talks of old wars and beautiful…
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The Reluctant Poet 