This month’s photo prompt has been provided by Willow Willers.
One
Small sign
India
Celebrating
Painted hands dancing
Temple sounds in the air
Sweet spice filled markets, crowded
Smiling faces wait with greeting
Namaste, sunshine will bless your day
Painted hands take me back to India…
Image credit; Pixabay
In the stone circle stands a chance
To split dark from light
Offering the world below, fire
The blue moon whispering a warning
They are too young, they are not ready
Let them find their own way
You come too far from the future
To understand their way of life
Why hurry things along
When you have no way of knowing
What they might discover by time alone
Your world is driven by speed
Theirs is not, they hunt for food
They live, they are happy
Some might call it fate
I call it interference
As it has been through the ages
Name one culture that has been
Allowed to walk its own path
Wars, famine, floods have changed so much
Of what might have been
For once, I would like to see
Where they would travel by themselves
Without interference
I hear you all shouting
It was meant to be…
One slim chance to catch the wolf
The chill wind at my back
Nicely scratching the itch
A warm sun tendril illuminating
The ground beneath my feet
My home-made arrow flew
Missing the dark brown fur by inches
He lives to swagger through another day
I allow myself one shot, and that was it
Time up, I will set my cloak
same time tomorrow.
Walking home to the hoot of an owl
I knew tomorrows arrow
would miss its target
There’s no fun in taking
down such a beauty
After all, I am not one of
Robin Hoods merry men
My age is ten, the wolf
and I have grown together
I never stand downwind,
so he knows where I am
We are connected…
99 words, no more, no less. It’s a simple constraint, an easy-to-master literary art form, and a powerful writing tool for creatives and entrepreneurs. Writers calibrate the usefulness and beauty of 99-words through weekly flash fiction challenges.
Wave your hands in the air
Like you just don’t care!
They do care very much
About the conditions they work in
Too often the loos don’t flush
Water is turned off
Waiting repair
Which takes too long
Poor management in winter
Means working in the cold
This in turn, slows down production
Which means working late
No extra pay
Too many break times cancelled
People become sick
Our floor manager asked
For hot drinks to be made
Every four hours
This went down with management
like a lead balloon
it’s no wonder we’re shouting
and waving our arms…
Image by scvincent.com
For visually challenged writers, the image shows the ruined tower of a castle, seen through the cross-shaped window of another tower.
I am cast in stone
Chained beneath the castle walls
My soul yearning to be set free
The dark cross sentinels
Guard the three remaining towers
So many come,
they gaze upon my fallen walls
Never hearing my voice
No mind open to hear my plea
From the fall of Camelot
I have tried to let them know
There is a way to set me free…
Slow
Running
Cool water
Smooth round boulders
Ancient hands have touched
They speak of memory
Old-time tingling my fingers
Something new begins, today’s thought
Standing on history, time waiting
To awaken again by someone’s touch…
Image credit; Flickr
When miraculous things happen
the mind screams in disbelief
while lying in a meadow
the summer sun striking the daisies gold
There he stood, the unicorn from my scrapbook
Alive in splendour, his flowing mane and tail
white and gold, blue eyes that cannot be forgotten
He moved towards me his thoughts inside my head
“Come follow me, stay awhile in my world.”
That’s when I heard the warning bell
The land of the fey is no place
for mortals to stay too long
To eat their food is to lose your soul,
lose time in your own world
Your family thinking you lost, move on,
grow older while you stay the same
Should I risk one minute
in this Alice in Wonderland moment?
My heart said yes, my mind said no
Keep your childhood wonders in picture form
Get up, run for home…
Some say it is best to cut your cloth
According to the times
I say it is no more than a disguise
To hide the buzz inside your head
To be different, fly your own flag
Fly in the face of convention
To ring the bell, shout for change
Be proud to walk as if you know
the new style you carry has deeper meaning
Let your words channel a new path for the young
Sign your name, tie it in a silken bow, wear it loose
Burn the old files, let the sweetness of sugar
Be the taste for life that guides the new you…
I knew I had to say something.
I had been avoiding this conversation for a while now, but now was as good a time as any.
“Could you stop for a minute and listen to me?”
A silence descended in the room and I knew a pit of doom had just slid open somewhere. I decided to plough on and get it all off my chest.
“I need to know what your plans are. Do you actually have any, or are you planning on wandering through life until something interesting turns up?”
Nothing.
Had I picked the wrong moment after all, or was I being ignored?
While I waited for some kind of response, I started thinking of different ways to force the issue. Maybe it was time I stopped working, give up the constant battle to create something worthwhile on my own.
Retire?
That idea was certainly appealing.
The silence was making my headache, the feeling of knowing I was on my own in this was depressing to say the least. I could feel myself getting angry. Angry enough to say something I would probably regret later.
I searched my frustrated brain for something, anything that might provoke an answer. I wanted to hurt or threaten to hurt but been there before and it never worked.
I knew I wouldn’t be spoken to until it was deemed necessary.
I was on my own, as always.
If I received an answer now, it would mean nothing, and I wouldn’t care one way or another…
©JayeMarie 2020
They say at my age of 85
The days of wine and roses are over
They may be right, however
I live ten minutes from the beach at Southend
Each day I insert myself into the world
I sit with my toes in the sand
Watching people with their children
Playing let’s bury dad
This it seems, leads to a great deal of laughter
I count the days lucky
When a stranger stops to speak awhile
A gift from the Universe
This morning, I have risen extra early
I want to see the sunrise
With luck, I will have the beach to myself
As I walk barefoot along the sand
I am drawn towards two abandoned blue buckets
Sandcastles forgotten, weekend trippers
Long gone home
I sit holding one of the buckets
With no spade to fill it, I use my hand
I turn it over and instantly felt transported
As if by a time machine to my 8-year-old self
The first time standing on sand
The sight of the sea, so large
I remember thinking it had no end
It was rolling away from me to touch the sky
I know better now, as I wait for the sunrise
Wondering how many more I can fit into my life
Before I am called to that blue hour I see before me…
