#The Sunday Whirl ~ #Wordle 408

You cut me, leaving me to bleed

On rough granite ground

Each toll of the bell ringing my life away

I spin with the earth, having swallowed this bitter pill

The stars above fade in and out

Like someone playing with the light switch

I feel my body quiver, as memory slides into darkness

I see a garland of flowers floating on the water

The last kiss from my father.

He often spoke to me of the dogwood

with its pink or white flowers

His fancy being it was one of the few plants

to have only four petals

He liked to think they represented the four elements

Earth, wind, fire and water.

My father had many strange notions and I loved him for it

I hope now, as my life floats towards the dark empty space

I meet with him again…

AAAAA

Colleen’s Weekly #poetry Challenge

Colleen’s 2019 Weekly #Tanka Tuesday #Poetry Challenge No. 132 #SynonymsOnly

 

 

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Here are your two words for this week:

Influence & Perception

HERE’S THE CATCH: You can’t use the prompt words! SYNONYMS ONLY! Except for the first challenge of the month ~ then, the poets get to choose their own words. ❤

 

My

Knowledge

Is sketchy

Of God more so

Imagine my shock

When I open my mail

An invitation to tea

I have something for you to do

What can I do, that God cannot?

The force of his words was simple, believe…

AAAAA

The Other Love in my Life…

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This is the first of many posts (I hope!) about the other part of my life that I love.

Bonsai…

This particular tree is not one of mine but I wish it was. A gingko, one of the oldest trees in living memory and might have been here when dinosaurs roamed the earth.

As you can tell from the trunk, it is very old in this picture too. It can take a many human lifetime for any tree to end up with a such a trunk as this. The leaves too, normally quite large, have become smaller and match the proportions of the tree very well.

Someone has cherished and cared for this beautiful tree for a very long time and I would love to know just how old it really is. Probably worth a small fortune too, which rules me out of ever owning such a specimen.

In the coming weeks I would like to introduce you to other lovely trees, some of them my own. And also just what owning a bonsai really means…

AAA (2)

Obsession… #Poetry

 

This weeks inspiration comes from Lord of the Rings and this image…

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This is one of my favourite pictures of Gollum. Painted by P E Pracownick

 

 

Obsession

Dark, dank wet cave is no place to call home

Yet for one small creature it has become so

His passion having driven him underground

After taking the life of a friend for a ring of gold

His world turned upside down

Over time his skin grew pale, translucent

His body shrank, his eyes bulged

Strange maladies, a madness ruled his world

His inly thought, his ring of gold. His love

Ever vigilant of losing what he stole, his madness grew

The fearful day came when his ring could not be found

What heart was left, broke anew, his mind split further in two

He spoke as if a twin stood close

“They pesky hobbits have it, we will find it soon, my precious.”

The hunt was long, fraught with danger

A glint of gold ever in his mind, he found the culprit

His shock was great, for he could see the pesky hobbit

Meant to destroy the ring of gold

He is here to take back as his own and watched as the Hobbit’s hand

stretched over the evil flame from whence it came.

The creature’s pain, too much to bear

He ran as sound escaped his lips

Heavy with pain enough to split the world apart

The ring flew in the air, one tiny pale hand snatched in time

To hold again his love now joined in flame

He was no more

The hobbits eyes filled with tears, for once this forlorn creature

Lived in Shire’s green and pleasant land

Before obsession stole his soul away…

AAAAA

My Genie… #Poetry

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I dream of Genie, not the soppy kind from TV

My genie is a desert dweller, dark skin from Arabian Nights

blue jewelled eyes that say, set me free

I will grant what you wish

I have read the stories of how he tricks

I take the bottle from the sand

He pleads with me to understand

The thousand years he has dwelled within

What foolishness did put you there, I ask

His eyes grow dark as memory comes

She swore her love would be mine

If wish I granted

With all haste I gave the bag of jewels she craved

Still she did not believe I was the genie from the bottle

She bid me enter to show her proof

My size you see, made a liar out of me

Wizards spell I now control

Safe I thought, love made me enter

Shrink in size to please my emerald eyed goddess

Quick as lightning she capped the bottle top

With cold wet clay iron filled

Which held me still

Buried me beneath the sand

Until now you hold my image in your hand

Tell me what it is you wish

I have no choice but to believe you will set me free

I thought a while,

then said, life was not hidden from your eyes

Help me write the stories of the thousand years you have seen

So that is my wish

Remember, they must not rush through my mind all at once

A gentle whisper one by one will do

Now I am 24, three best sellers to my name

I watch the Genie melt away

I wonder what story the he will tell today…

AAAAA

Autumn Leaves…

 

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Image by Pixabay.com

 

 

Catching a falling leaf for good luck is harder than you think

They will hit you on the head, drop on your shoulder

I have had one land smack in the middle of my chest

Still not in my hand. Is good luck trying to avoid me?

Winter comes, I watch the leaves fall

Windblown down my street

I never see anyone reach out a hand to catch one

They brush them from their shoulders

I wonder, have they just brushed good luck away?

Rain managed to stick one to my window

As if to say, there you go, you know you want me

The saddest time is when I reach out my hand

It is about to drop when the smallest wind blows it

Dancing past my outstretched palm, empty once again

An old wives tale I cannot forget and will continue to try

One day I will hold that autumn leaf in my hand…

AAAAA

Perchance… #Poetry

 

 

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Image by Pixabay.com

 

 

I dream of a smoke-filled room

With deep red leather chairs

An old boys meeting place

Where all my favourite poets and storytellers

sit with their philosopher friends

Pen poised, ready to change the world

With their great imaginings

Magic to soothe the mind

Help your own thoughts to expand

Lewis Carroll speaks of a young girl

fallen down a rabbit hole

My ears tingle with anticipation

H G Wells speaks of the time machine he has in mind

Reading from his notes I want to interrupt him

Beg him to please take me with you

Today they have a foreign visitor

by the name of Mark Twain

He speaks of a strange land

and people of a different kind

Of a boy, Tom Sawyer, made to paint

 a picket fence with white paint

Getting into all kinds of trouble

Helping a slave to escape when no one else would

His heart as big as the Mississippi

I would have helped with that expedition

A run for freedom that belonged to his all along

Morning wakes my still tired eyes

I look to my notepad by my bedside

Wishing I could write as well as my favourite authors

My mind still held in half dream

On my notepad I read two words, You can

Written by a hand that was not my own…

AAAAA

#Jaye’s Journal ~ Week 24 (a bit late)

Jaye's Journal x12

 

The letter from the hospital arrived yesterday and the first of my cataracts will be removed next week and I have a pre op appointment tomorrow to check me out. I wonder what happened to the ten weeks wait I was told to expect.

We left early to get to the hospital for we can never judge what the car parking will be like and arrived far too early. The hospital was busy, but we managed to find out where we were supposed to be. The Eye department is one of the oldest parts of the hospital and didn’t have any of the iced water machines that I like so much, and my mouth was as dry as a bone.

By the time we sat down in the waiting room, there was still half an hour to wait, so was very surprised when my name was called. A kind and pleasant male nurse welcomed me, proceeded to check me over and then explained what would be happening to me. Though I was a little perturbed when he said I wouldn’t feel a thing, and then calmly said that a nurse would be holding my hand, so I could squeeze it if I felt anything. Not very reassuring!

I appreciated this more than you know, for the last time I was there, I was subjected to a pompous, short tempered consultant who clearly thought I was wasting his time. My treatment today was very different.

I just know that the next six days are going to be awful…

###

There was me thinking I would have plenty of time to finish the WIP and make a few inroads into the marketing, but this unexpected news has literally knocked me for six. Mainly, I hope, because I wasn’t expecting it. Not that I am worried about them slicing bits of my eyes. Well, maybe just a little…

The thought of all this disruption is having a weird effect on me. Instead of getting a move on and pressing the panic button, I seem to be doing the opposite and moving around as though up to my neck in treacle. Almost everything is far too much trouble and I cannot be asked to do anything.

It is affecting the weather too, and it hasn’t stopped raining for days. Absolutely no chance of doing any gardening either then.

Thinking is becoming more difficult too, is it because I am facing the Unknown?

Two days of inertia later, I have managed to scrape together some enthusiasm. Guilt will always work, don’t you find?

After making such good progress last week with the new PC and Word, several peculiar wrinkles decide to make an appearance, completely undermining my confidence again. Needless to say, I didn’t need this.

I have been struggling to do so many things, things I had no trouble doing before.  I have the feeling I am out of my depth with technology, a feeling I haven’t had since the early days.

What do you do when you have misplaced your enthusiasm?

I know that when you get to my age, you begin to run out of things, like patience, common sense, memory and a simple thing like joy. Then there are the knees that no longer want to work anymore and a back that starts to ache even before you get up in the morning.

Add to that several weeks months of only having one usable eye and the next part of my life is going to be interesting.

Just don’t call me Cyclops!

Anita has just said something that made me smile. She said ‘Don’t forget, in the Kingdom of the blind, the one eyed is King…’

AAA (2)

 

#Flash Fiction Challenge for Carrot Ranch Literary Community #Poetry

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June 13: Flash Fiction Challenge

June 13, 2019, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about the work of many hands. Is it a cooperative effort or something else? Go where the prompt leads!

Respond by June 18, 2019. Use the comment section below to share, read, and be social. You may leave a link, pingback, or story in the comments.

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Hands can be gentle, kind, violent, creative

I remember my grandfather’s large hands

Callused from wood cutting

Strong, they made me feel safe

Nothing in this world, or the next

I often thought, could ever get past them

Whereas my grandmothers were small and gentle

Featherlight, often times I could hardly feel her touch

There have been a few hands in my life

I would rather not touch again

The wet, spongy kind.

Then we have the great ones,

Mozart at his piano, surgeons saving lives

Some insured for millions like Liberace

Tiny new-born ones are best of all…

AAAAA