Once upon a time
by the sea
where the water
kisses the sand
I held a perfect
salt-bleached shell
to my ear.
The voice I heard
from within
was yours.
.
.
© the author writing as Romantic Dominant
Photography by Mira Nedyalkova
Not a brand new post. But when I listen again perhaps the voice I hear will be yours.
Morning moon waning after night
pearly beams of light
vanishing in brilliant sun rays
as dark becomes day
in the evenings a wayward breeze
shadows dance with leaves
as birds take roost in swaying trees
yearning arises once again
a cool caress upon my skin
pearly beams of light, as dark becomes day, shadows dance with leaves
Author’s Note: The form I used today is the Oviellejo, an Old Spanish verse form (derived from ovillo, a ball of yarn). A stanza consists of 10 lines, with a rhyme scheme of AABBCCCDDC. The second line of each rhyme scheme, Line 2,4,6, is a short line of up to 5 syllables. The last line is a “redondilla,” a “little round” that collects all three of the short lines.
If you are always trying to be normal,
you will never know how amazing you can be.
~ Maya Angelou ~
__________
Writing is like driving at night in the fog.
You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.
– E. L. Doctorow
Today is Day 248 of the 2020 Daily Writing Challenge.
Did you write yesterday? Half of the year is in our rear-view mirror, and I am drawing a line in the sand. The targets I missed, the stories I didn’t compose, they no longer matter. These last six months are history. Done. I won’t lie, 2020 kicked me in the head, leaving me stunned, unsteady, and incapable of completing anything beyond basic tasks. I bet I am not alone, but don’t count me out yet. They say what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger, right? I am confident I will discover I am more capable than I have ever been. I dug deep, reevaluated my annual goals, and I decided…
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Labor Day Weekend has always been an annual pivotal marker. It delineates summer’s end, signals a return to school, and heralds shorter days and cooler nights. It reminds us we must return to the business of work… tomorrow. Traditionally, this weekend is a national tribute dedicated to the American worker’s achievements. We honor everyday men and women whose daily contributions enrich everyone’s lives. This Labor Day promises to be a tremendous departure from past festivities.
The traditional last splash at the water park isn’t possible when the attraction never opened. The backyard BBQ with lawn games, friends, and family will undergo significant changes. The new guest list is limited to your bubble of safety. Required face masks make eating corn on the cob more awkward than usual, and you eye your favorite sloppy sauce with suspicion rather than lip-smacking anticipation. Villages, towns, and municipalities everywhere have canceled the annual parades…
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I miss my America,
the land of the free
and the home of the brave.
Every day I see sadness,
war beaten faces
from battlefields,
found in my own backyard.
We used to be one nation
united under God.
We were indivisible with liberty
and practiced justice for all.
But how many people
even remember
our nation’s promised pledge.
The allegiance we swore
to the flag of our forefathers,
is a promise we failed to keep.
The roots of our republic
have somehow been forgotten
and the turmoil caused
from present day happenings
has torn the unity
straight from our hearts.
It’s a dishonor to our nation,
but even more so
a disgrace to our God.
Freedom of speech
never gave us the right to ruin
what our brave forefathers
fought to defend.
© 2020 Michelle Cook
Photo credit: Pixabay.com
Summer And Fall.
Today it is still summer,
Tomorrow will be fall.
I see the purple asters,
I hear the autumn’s call.
The maple leaves are golden,
The pumpkins, round and yellow;
The apple cheeks are rosy,
The pears are getting mellow.
The nuts are growing rounder,
The cornstalk brown and sear.
By twenty lovely tokens,
I know that fall is near.
I feel the warm sun shining
As a balmy south wind blows;
I see the flowers blooming,
And I see the grass still grows;
The goldenrod is waving,
The bees are in the clover.
I hear a distant honking–
The geese are flying over
Today it is still summer,
Tomorrow will be fall.
Today I still am barefoot–
Oh how I love it all!
by Nona Keen Duffy.
Artist Alida Akers.
Text and image source: Snowwolfs Woodland Nook https://www.facebook.com/531188960392510/posts/1640499699461425/
…….Through….
…..judgement……
….we separate…
…….Through…..
..understanding….
…….we grow….
Text and image source: WHISPERS https://www.facebook.com/108030962700575/posts/1448480398655618/
“If you are destruction,
then I’m a chaotic wildfire.
And that’s okay.”
If you are destruction, then I’m a chaotic wildfire. And that’s okay. Things are there to enhance our lives, but they aren’t what’s important. People are important. We are people too. Don’t be afraid to be true to who you are. Don’t be afraid to defy your labels. In the meantime, don’t be afraid if a few bridges are lost. They can be rebuilt. Stronger and safer. You don’t always have to be the label you’ve been given. Even if you were the one that made it.
© Sarah Doughty
2018
You are not just one label.
That’s the beauty of time.
You will not always be
the bearer of one label.
That’s an important distinction.
Tears of joy Tears of sadness They all spring from the same source of loving you ©RoseGirl2020
The Reluctant Poet 