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…
When morning shadows fade
I shrink back into darkness
Forgotten until daylight
When I can once again search
For the one who stole my lifeforce
While I was dreaming me.
Yet, he has no face, not fully formed
I must be quick before he takes
More from the shadows
To become the one I am meant to be
Leaving me in darkness
Never to step into the light
To find my own form
To live outside my own form
My own shadow…
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 Pixabay.com
Frost white morning
I slip my head beneath my duvet
No way are my feet moving
From this warm cover
Today I stay hidden from the world
To dream of things to come
A future made of stardust
With bright green jewels
A land where you leave a wish
Knowing it will come true…
Image by Pixabay.com
I have chased good luck around the globe
Wondering where it hides
Trinkets bought, hung in place
Now no more than gathered dust
I have been told recently
You cannot buy it for yourself
A trinket must be given as a gift
This is your luck right there
Someone took the time
to think about you…
My father, a staunch academic that never flaps.
At breakfast, I met a stranger at the table
He spoke at a speed I had never heard before
I could see a hint of panic in his eyes.
He didn’t ask, so much as forbid me
to take the 2.40 train from Paddington.
Asking why his voice became calmer
I don’t know if you have heard this story
Or remember it from the newspapers
One year ago, a young man just turned eighteen
died on that train in the third carriage
It’s said he may return on the anniversary of his death
To sit in the same seat for three weeks
In the hope of finding the part of self
we all leave behind on being born.
He waits for the other half, the missing piece
To sit on the seat opposite the door.
When the right person takes that seat
He becomes whole, having entered the sitter.
There are many tales of what takes place next
You have just turned eighteen, I am asking you please,
Take the earlier train to your next job?
Seeing how much this meant to my father
I agreed, and kissing his cheek, I left for work
I felt a little odd approaching the station
Standing close to the edge of the platform
I waited that afternoon for the 2.40.
I remember asking my father why I couldn’t just
Take my journey in the second car
Father said it was best to avoid the 2.40 all together
As curiosity gets the best of some people.
I could hear the train approaching
I stood where the third car would stop
I could see a grey outline of someone sitting
in the seat Father mentioned
There were no discernible features to this mass
Shaking my head, thinking my father’s story
Must have gotten into my mind
I felt a connection, a longing, something remembered
I remembered my father saying that a soul mate
Was not someone you search for in life
It’s the missing part of self.
I knew what this meant, for I had often felt
Lost lonely unsure even when falling
in love with a boy from College
A few minutes of happiness that doesn’t last
Leaving me with the feeling of being unwhole.
Now that I have felt that missing part
I would break my word
I will sit in that seat tomorrow at 2.40
Let the missing part enter
See what life will bring…
Image by Pixabay.com
A moment of clarity
When mind and body become one
I felt like the young Buddha
Sat beneath the tree
Silver moonlight on dark water
Pulling thought back and forth
Each new thought penetrating
Heart and mind
My soul stands beside me, waiting
For that spark of knowing
That stops ego from thinking
It knows best…
Image by Pixabay.com
Old stories whispered on wet afternoons
Do they contain a kernel of truth?
Are the stones more than man has made?
Late at night when the moon is full
Energy pulled from the stones
Blue flickering light
Can the fate of Merlin be seen?
Dancing in the circle?
I see mischief by magic made…
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…
