I remember a time before my furry covering Soft stuffing, these dark button eyes I lived in Switzerland, my eyes were blue I remember the snow, the slope smooth, like mothers icing on our Christmas cake Before the visitors come With their puff jackets and skis Father making sure there is enough wood chopped To keep our visitors warm Before they mess up my smooth slopes That feels like a long time ago I am here now in England with a nice family I like my red waistcoat I love being cuddled by Annabelle Who likes to sit me by the fire When she is busy doing something for her mum All in all, I think life isn’t too bad Apart from the days when I miss the snow…
Mountains high Old dark scars Black tar rivers run High castle walls Lords and Ladies having fun Unearthly sounds split the night Warning went unaided Fools entered Swallowed by dark inner walls Never would angels enter Indoor evil attracts its own Walls scarred by sounds new, swell Souls buried in old castle mortar Too long they lie forgotten Names scratched on walls Calling out dates to remember No visitors heeding Their hearts unturned By old news…
The road ahead is long, hard to walk alone The world has eclipsed my mind I am swallowed by darkness The black hole reaches for me Dragging my senses to its upside-down way of being The mirror shows me walking away I never see my face The food on my plate is raw, never cooked I am living in a nightmare Rain runs up, the way it does when driving a car Fascinating, but no place to live I need to find a way out Step back, keep stepping backwards Until I reach the beginning Discover that missing step…
Relaxing, as Earth spins away below Blue and white clouds drifting by, floating free Time out to play Baker Street, her favourite tune Can this haunting melody be heard In interstellar space? Will she receive a response An applaud, request for an encore? Is it her own private moment In the silence of space?
It’s the third week of the month! Time for an Ekphrastic #PhotoPrompt
This challenge explores Ekphrastic writing inspired by visual art (photographs). Diana Peach from last month’s challenge has provided the photo for this month’s challenge:
What happens When a ghost’s pale white image she sees reflected With the tears she lets go Does her wish stir the waters? Dark hides tiny creatures whisper When given a heart, let her be loved Will the magic of the woods give her life?
(For the visually challenged reader, the image shows a young woman looking out the glass pane of a partially open door, with an indecipherable expression)
She stands in shadow As if afraid of colour One half of the door Formed in soft orange light She looks outside Trying to decide her fate Is today the day she walks Through that half open door Will she pick up the fallen reins of her life? Will suspicion, doubt, rule the day Could a soft voice passing say hello? Move her footsteps Does she want the outside To come into her life? Her grip on the door whispers I intend to stay in the shadows Where I have control?
Grandpa’s estate revealed a hidden room Behind rows of ancient stories Many of which I had read over the years I wish I had discovered the hidden room When I had spent time at grandpa’s Now I cannot ask him about it Why he kept first editions there I understand The box of family secrets have left me feeling sad Now I understand the strange hollow feeling I have lived with for years I have a family I never knew about Their love and warmth would have filled that hollow space Why were they kept hidden? Are any of them still living? This is my task, to find someone who belongs to me that connects me to life to my grandpa To find out if I belong here…
Listen to the wind With its softly whispered words In the still of night Your face, the print of life Wrapped in lace The trace of family long gone Infinite memories That salt tears embrace…
Who decided we could eat such a thing? I cannot think of anything worse to put in my mouth Now that is a lie. I could probably write a long list Of things that should never go near anyone’s mouth Avocado, in my mind, must have been planted by aliens As some kind of April Fool’s joke Like lambs to the slaughter, humans went for it Chefs charge a fortune, look at me I have five stars This is what you get, soap on toast A nightmare on a rope My tip, don’t eat the stuff…
The dark, navy strip of water may look calm No one thinks to tell you, to warn you Of Elizabeth, the unknown woman who sails the waters Taking life as she sees fit It’s company she seeks It’s lonely when no one can see you Until you become as she is, dead. Hayley took her new boat to the water for the first time No stranger to the strip of dark water There are many tales, stories None strike her as more than urban legends Today, the river felt darker, different, foreboding The current stronger than she remembered Her boat engine cut out and she drifted to the spot Where the stories began Cold crept up from her feet, she had little doubt that she was about to suffer the same fate as Elizabeth Her boat seemed to take on a life of its own Ben, fishing on the bank, noticed The strange way the boat rode the water Securing his rod, he ran alongside, shouting for the captain Seeing her on the far side the moment she fell in Her life jacket failed to inflate He took a running dive, saving her from the fate the blue lady had in mind for her The boat secured; all was well that day Like the number nine bus, there would be another boat along soon The lady would not have to wait long for her new companion…
