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

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

#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

Ocean Light…

 

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My bones lie beneath the light that touches the ocean

My soul trapped by the chains that bind my mortal form

Dead, yet not gone to rest, bound by chains to my weakened mind

I count stars at night, watch great ocean liners cross above me

I hear laughter from those on their journey

The occasion wreath thrown overboard, ashes float on the surface

Sun kissed flashing patterns, painted by fingers of sunlight

Why did I not notice these small wonders before?

Do flowers thrown overboard lead the dead souls onward

If so, somehow, I pray for someone to remember me

Someday throw a petal or two from passing ship to help me.

One single flower might show the way…

AAAAA

A Very Special Moment…

 

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Merlin has been sitting on the desk with me a lot lately, so when he turned up again this morning, I simply stroked his head and went back to what I was doing on the computer.

He moved a little closer and I began to wonder if something was wrong. I studied him for a while, then gently put my hand on his head. He looked bright enough and his head and ears felt cool, so I let my hand slide slowly down his back. He looked up at me with so much wisdom and intelligence in his amber eyes and at that moment, I experienced a deep communication between us as our eyes met.

It is usually difficult to see Merlin’s eyes properly, as they seem to vanish in his black face, but for once I could clearly see him looking at me.

He stretched his head towards me until our heads were almost touching. I was sure he had something to tell me, but all I felt was such overwhelming sadness. Was it just his sorrow, or my own somehow joining together?

“You okay, Merlin?”

I had the strongest feeling he wasn’t, as I knew old age was creeping up on him too. I had seen how many times he missed the couch when a jump failed, and how he often stumbled as he walked around. I found myself wondering if he ever thought about how much time he had left, as I often did. The thought that neither of us might not last much longer brought tears to my eyes.

He stayed with me for a while and I with him, sharing something very special.

Two old souls, emotionally communicating on some deeper level.

AAA (2)

 

#Flash Fiction Challenge for Carrot Ranch Literary Community #Poetry

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June 3, 2019, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that makes a big splash. It can be fluid, or you can play with the idiom (to make a big splash is to do or say something that becomes unforgettable). Go where the prompt leads!#Flash Fiction Challenge

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I am looking through my rain painted windows

Waterlogged drowned gutters run

with rainbow coloured bubbles

Rain, when pouring, dancing to its own tune

Children finding the best puddles to make a big splash

Returning home to drip rain indoors

Red cheeks, happy faces

Safe in front of warm fires

Snug under cosy blankets

The deluge continues as you gaze

through your kitchen window

The heavens open, turning your garden pond

Into a tidal wave

Gold carp dancing in water lifted

Spinning lights flashing

Golden doubloons dropping

A big splash, smooth water once more

Cup of hot chocolate calling…

I am looking through my rain painted windows

Waterlogged drowned gutters run

with rainbow coloured bubbles

Rain, when pouring, dancing to its own tune

Children finding the best puddles to make a big splash

Returning home to drip rain indoors

Red cheeks, happy faces

Safe in front of warm fires

Snug under cosy blankets

The deluge continues as you gaze

through your kitchen window

The heavens open, turning your garden pond

Into a tidal wave

Gold carp dancing in water lifted

Spinning lights flashing

Golden doubloons dropping

A big splash, smooth water once more

Cup of hot chocolate calling…

AAAAA

11111

A Slip in Time… #Poetry

 

 

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Image by Pixabay.com

 

 

I find myself lost in a wonderland and time

Wrapped in old magic, a kiss to the mind

To be lost in such a world is like being reborn

My heart knew this world to be free of darkness

Washed with strange things, the eyes seek to find more

Every fruit you have ever eaten, grown on one large tree

Rivers run with ever changing rainbow colours

Feathered friends whistle by, their metallic colours flashing

Flowers bow their heads in morning greeting

Rain falls around you, watering the ground

Nurturing this strange place

I see a house beyond the woods with diamond glow

Dare I knock, find who lives here?

My heart beats so hard,

I thought the occupant heard my approach

The golden feathered knocker lifted, banged down once

Before I could reach my hand to it

For a moment I believed the door opened by itself

For I saw only a bright light

I closed my eyes in silent prayer

Please let there be a friend standing there

On opening my eyes, my mouth flew wide

Her hair of gold like a summer corn field

Grew to her waist, her eyes a mixture of blue and green

Her smile welcoming, her beauty would wear no words

I seem to be lost, I said in a voice I hardly recognized

“You are exactly where you need to be.

Welcome, you are in time for tea.”

Would food be as I remembered?

I stepped inside and it feels like home…

AAAAA

11111

The Ancient Streets of London for #Willow Poetry…

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Weekly challenge

Weekly Challenge  (June 4 to June 10/2019)

How to join: write a post on your own blog,  your choice of poetry or a story.

Link back to this prompt:  leave a link of your post (or Pingback)  in the comment section –  (Do check that your link shows up in the comment section).

Monday “Round-up” includes all links posted in the comment section of this post.

Photo prompt June 4 to June 10, 2019:

Image by Willow Poetry

 

The ancient streets of London, under a full moon

A story old as time was playing out of the feline variety

Lola, a beautiful white Persian had fallen for the ginger tom cat

Whose master had once called him Phillip

Before moving away, leaving him on the streets

Her father, having searched the rooftops

Found her on her own with the chocolates

Phillip had half inched from an open window

She sat, holding his tattered hat

He gave the lecture that so many fathers have done

Little knowing Phillip hung by his claws from the gutter.

Should he take note of these very words coming from her father

That she will end up in the gutter should she continue the courtship

Phillip had washed and pressed his best tie

Worn his only hat which she now clutches

He hangs from the gutter feeling like a criminal

He has no home and lives in the dark alleys of London

He cannot ask her to do the same

Her father is right, she deserves better

With her father’s words ringing in his ear

He wondered, could he find a good place to call home

Elope with his beloved Lola

He heard her say, “Father, I will follow Phillip anywhere.

He will look after me. Love finds a way.”

Phillip had the answer his heart wanted to hear

From the lips of one who loved him…

AAAAA

11111

The Sunday Whirl ~ Wordle 406

 

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Street Light

Old yellow streetlamps shine

Children play in sunlight’s glow

The noose that hung their life away

Now enters into play

They take their turn to swing

From lamplights shine

Their laughter falls on cold deaf ground

To late they learn of love

The crown of life made to swim through time eternal

A sign will tell of their return

Their noise and laughter will ring once more

No hand nor voice to scoot away

The weekend calls to County Fair…

AAAAA

11111

#Writephoto – Yearning #Poetry

Thursday photo prompt: Yearning #writephoto

 

a channel of water flowing out to sea, with the sun reflecting on the water.

Image by Scvincent.com

 

 

Sunlit Water

The lonely river runs across the dark land

Searching beneath blistered coloured skies

Sunlit ocean waits below

There is an urgency, a beckoning

To be wanted, welcomed, swallowed by a loving embrace

before Spring winds carry more parts away

To join the circle of return

The river needs to reach the ocean

Before being carried upwards, to return again

An old yearning to leave part of self behind

Safe in the oceans embrace

A place where all things are remembered

Water holds its own with memory older than time

There are many parts of the same body

Water will always find its own

May you also find your loving embrace…

AAAAA

#writephoto