Don’t You know Tomorrows Ghosts looking back They forgot to say Of yesterday’s best play Had fallen short of screaming Looking now to send chills down spines Beware of ghosts that see tomorrows Fear that lives under beds, behind curtains…
February 25 2021, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story using the word frozen. It can be descriptive, character focused, action driven. Go out onto the ice and find a frozen story.
Frozen with horror by the razor-sharp edge, the blade at my throat, the overlapping fear of warm blood Free flowing from my body, zoning out into darkness Falling into a world of blank memory, near to death I see the dark cloaked figure of an angel gently waking my sleeping body Not realising, my spirit had decided to jump around the room with joy Without letting me know where the happiness comes from I lie there wondering why I had been sent an angel wearing L plates Would she pull the two halves of my body together in time?
I told my story to the empty streets of London While the stars stood witness to my pain The day I witnessed Heaven burning Leaving me with no way home I fell to earth before the flames could reach me My story told, before I reached this realm With so little truth to tell Yes, my wings are less than white Because my tongue I could not hold For speaking out against the Mighty One Now they are singed beyond repair I cannot go home without His help Sorry is the hardest word, it burns my throat I must find a different way to find my rightful place among the stars Leave the empty streets of London To their own way of sinning…
There is a tiny devil inside my mind. Stroking my ego, telling me how clever I am He is forgetting one thing. I have looked into the darkness. And wondered, what kind of devil lives inside his mind? Is his ego stroked into believing he is the best there is, no one above him? Some days I see him in my mirror. A dark cloud waiting to break. That’s how I know the day goes. Like thunderstorms inside my mind Darker, when I must bite back my thoughts. Not everyone would be ready to hear my opinion of them. Growing up, I would be told, keep your tongue between your teeth, don’t let the devil out. I have not managed to keep the devil down. When he is telling me I am right I can often put my foot in it. The older I am, the smaller he appears to be. The days less stormy, clouds part, I see the sun. Yet I know he is waiting in the wings. Ready with his gentle touch…
Does Dreaming come from a different bed Do we dream their dreams? Is it sad and lonely? Do we enter the unknown A universe of do it twice Where any old dream they think will do for a night spent in someone else’s bed…
For the visually challenged writer, the photo is of a human skull placed on top of an old book. To the left is an hourglass and to the right is a single smoldering candle in a glass candleholder.
Time has taken its toll on book and soul. The candle has gone out The egg timer no longer flows The devil called with death on its tail Its quota must be met. Those dodgers of time must be caught They’re messing with the universal vibration Their presence is abhorrent They make no attempt to cloak their actions Their aliveness A slap in the face of the universal plan Each story must be told as written The hole in the net must be mended For death to breathe a sigh of relief For he too can die again…
The distant echo of your voice calling me home Across fields of new mown hay I turn my head away, I do not want to go Your soft whisper follows, I feel your longing I am not ready to take up an angelic post Snow white feathers would not suit me Or God forbid, the other place where coal is needed Did I slip into a place where the forked one gave me a large spade? I love you still, alas I have much to do All the things that frightened you, I understand There are mountains to climb where you would not go Your fear of the unknown kept you locked inside There are snow slopes calling, louder than your echo Do you now have eternity to roam?
I swallow my words, a slow-moving bitter taste. Full of broken glass that burns my veins. A storm raging inside, a fire that cannot be quenched. Fuelled by anger, disappointment, loss, a life lived too long. The past doing what it does best, haunting, stirring the mind to self-destruct. Ghosts of those once loved smooth the sharp edges of the hills and troughs dug by bitter memories. It is better to have loved. A life lived without is a hollow bubble. The space inside too hard to handle. So my friend if love is offered, Take it, keep it safe. Don’t live life in an empty bubble…
For visually challenged writers, theimage shows a sheer drop from old stone… a bridge, perhaps, or the battlements of a castle… there is no way to tell… Below is deep, dark water, swirling, fringed by autumnal trees…
Don’t stand and stare, The dark water may drag you deeper to a place you do not want to go Throw your coin, make a wish, do not linger. The autumn tree to your right, Never moves into summer. If you want to see another sun filled day, Move on swiftly. This stretch of dark water has a reputation For calling sad souls to let go of life To enter the world below Those that have slipped below the water, Lie in wait, lonely, needing new heartache To feed their dark world Let your wish be, to bless the water. Send those sad souls on their way…