Image by Jaye Marie
Old Legends never Die
One wonderful blue-grey morning
I found by luck
this sacred woodland
Trees so old, they often fall
Revealing an ancient sentinel
Whose roots go deep
This most precious tree
will never die
It lives alongside
An ancient legend after all…
Image by Pixabay.com
He’s still there…
I found him, way up above the stars
Was I dreaming when he spoke to me?
You have searched long and hard
To find the old wizard on your earthly plain
Now you see me in my true form
I come to you in dreaming
For one day you will work with me again
As it was meant to be
I will leave a ring for your small finger
Turn the stone once widdershins
I will be at your side
Your search was never in vain…
Sally’s book would be perfect for everyone in lockdown, as every story and illustration will make you glad to be alive!
Life’s Rich Tapestry is a collection of verse, micro fiction and short stories that explore many aspects of our human nature and the wonders of the natural world. Reflections on our earliest beginnings and what is yet to come, with characters as diverse as a French speaking elephant and a cyborg warrior.
Finding the right number of syllables for a Haiku, Tanka, Etheree or Cinquain focuses the mind; as does 99 word micro fiction, bringing a different level of intensity to storytelling. You will find stories about the past, the present and the future told in 17 syllables to 2,000 words, all celebrating life.
This book is also recognition of the value to a writer, of being part of a generous and inspiring blogging community, where writing challenges encourage us to explore new styles and genres.
There is such wonderful variety in Life’s Rich Tapestry by Sally Cronin.
A really lovely collection of poems and short stories, all delightfully illustrated.
Always a fan of Sally’s storytelling, I really enjoyed reading this book.
Originally bought as an eBook, I will be purchasing a paperback copy for my bookshelf, so it will always be there to read again (and again!)
Image by scvincent.com
For visually challenged writers, the image shows the early morning mists rising over an empty moorland scene beneath a soft pink sky.
Soft Morning Mist
Stand still awhile on this empty moorland
Let the silence wash away yesterday
Feel the pull, as if walking backwards
To an old time, an old world
Beneath the soft pink blush of sunrise
Morning mist, the sweet damp kiss of angels
Do you remember when bliss was all you knew?
When you lived in my house…
Image from Pixabay.com
To be warm again…
A lone traveller with companion comes
Beneath sunsets blaze
Stories he must tell for food and shelter
Will curl your toes
Churchyard graves where death never sleeps
Church bells ring, candles lit
Cannot keep these souls at bay
They seek the warmth of living things
This storyteller moved on fast
Not wishing to stay where
Sun’s warmth never touches skin
His story be true or no
The cold he felt moved him on
Their stone white faces in memory stayed
As he ventured to pastures new
Where more stories await their telling…
Back to Darkness
From the jagged opening of my cave
I see the Atlantic Ocean
washing the orange sentinel.
Fresh growth crowns the head
My small view on the world
For I cannot leave my dark abode
Spellbound by greed, envy
She means to keep me here
for her own amusement.
When strange visitors enter,
I try to make myself known.
I pray for one intrepid adventurer to hear me,
for I can tell them how to set me free.
When the tide is out, my true love walks
From the cave opposite knowing I am here,
she can neither see nor hear me.
My torment doubles
I can no longer make myself known to her
When the tide returns
She must go back to darkness
Until the day comes
When the one standing in my dark space
Hears my voice…
Wonders to see
Look west, large bright star
Twinkle twinkle overhead
Cameras out, shoot the stars
Put them online for all to see
Shooting star, chance to make a true wish
Dark velvet skies shot through with diamond lights…
This image has triggered another poem…
Never truly forgotten
Do you see me now?
My dark form, hollow
Despair has eaten away my soul
One tiny seed of hope lingers
That she will come
A new Guinevere
To call Arthur from his sleep
Claim the sword
from the Lady of the Lake
place a flower by my hollow grave
with love spoken
bring me back…