Hark! The rhythm
Hark! The rhythm. The pellet drum rattles. The dance begins. The creation, the annihilation, the fleeing in-betweens, and beyond these appar...
Wednesday, September 30, 2015
Tuesday, September 29, 2015
Saturday, September 26, 2015
Friday, September 25, 2015
Sunday, September 20, 2015
Friday, September 18, 2015
Wednesday, September 16, 2015
Saturday, September 12, 2015
Beyond sunset
Tiny sailboat drifts,
Fading into horizon,
Wandering into unknowns.
When the sun has set,
All our labors turn to dust
Like waves return to oceans.
Linking with Friday Fictioneers
Fading into horizon,
Wandering into unknowns.
When the sun has set,
All our labors turn to dust
Like waves return to oceans.
Linking with Friday Fictioneers
Thursday, September 10, 2015
Wednesday, September 9, 2015
Tuesday, September 8, 2015
Blaze of colors
A blaze of colors smeared across my heart.
The strokes of an unskilled hand,
uneven and splotchy.
The hues, all vibrant, vivacious.
The oranges mixing with reds
and purples and pinks,
with tiny little sequins littered here and there.
Wide eyed, I watch as this masterpiece
is splashed across the sunset skies
exclusively for me, every single night.
And then everything in the pallette blends,
swirling across the canvas.
The enchanting moments
fusing and merging
until I can't separate one from another.
Misty eyed, I watch
as the muted brilliance
slowly turns to a
subtle pink and mild, soft gold.
Linking with Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers
The strokes of an unskilled hand,
uneven and splotchy.
The hues, all vibrant, vivacious.
The oranges mixing with reds
and purples and pinks,
with tiny little sequins littered here and there.
Wide eyed, I watch as this masterpiece
is splashed across the sunset skies
exclusively for me, every single night.
And then everything in the pallette blends,
swirling across the canvas.
The enchanting moments
fusing and merging
until I can't separate one from another.
Misty eyed, I watch
as the muted brilliance
slowly turns to a
subtle pink and mild, soft gold.
Linking with Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers
Sunday, September 6, 2015
Friday, September 4, 2015
Thursday, September 3, 2015
P is for ... Piggybank
I shake my fading piggybank
and in the rattle of spare coins
my childhood jingles.
Penny by penny,
we built a happy account,
ringing with love and laughter.
The idea of collecting
scrapes of cheer
has long faded.
And piggybanks now run dry.
Occasionally, my nephews
spill the one I had
and happy moments roll out.
Amidst the singing of coins,
we share a tale or two.
and in the rattle of spare coins
my childhood jingles.
Penny by penny,
we built a happy account,
ringing with love and laughter.
The idea of collecting
scrapes of cheer
has long faded.
And piggybanks now run dry.
Occasionally, my nephews
spill the one I had
and happy moments roll out.
Amidst the singing of coins,
we share a tale or two.
Wednesday, September 2, 2015
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