Category: Author

In response to Martha Kennedy’s RDP FRIDAY! BLACK AND WHITE prompt.

Northeastern winds whistle across the Bare Rock Mountains. Voices from the past sing to those who choose to listen, and sometimes to those who don’t.

Those who choose willingly to hear the ancestral songs, lift their arms to embrace the remembrances and the histories of those who came before.

Then there are those that choose not to pay heed to the past. They turn a blind eye to not only the travesties, but also forgo the lessons the ancestors passed from generation to generation over the millennia.

These are the ones who fear the screaming wind. The guilt-ridden, the cowardly, the ambivalent ones who hear their failings in each shrieking gust of air as it passes over them, around them, through them.

The mountains hold countenance over all. The brave and honorable pass with respect, as they have given it. Paying homage to the land and loyalty to the spirits residing there, held deep within the granite monoliths.

To those who scoff at the suffering of their forefathers and foremothers, the great peaks hold only retribution and terror. The spirits whip a whirling lash of biting turbulence against those heretics and nay-sayers of the Old Ways. Against those who try in vain and abject arrogance to traverse the mighty cliffs.

For others, who follow the path of nature. Who care for and nourish the Earth and all of her creatures; for those and only those, the spirits sing.

Thunder rumbles overhead
Rain dances upon my face
Why can’t I feel it?

A tenuous string
fabricated with particles
of space and time

Winding it’s path
predetermined perhaps
or perhaps not

To a world full of life
clinging to the fraying
thread on the end of the reel

Fear feeds the need
to find and hear the answers
before the ultimate lose

To uncover secrets
hidden beyond the black
blanket of the Universe

The desire and drive
to be off this beautiful
planet before she dies

Sir Gallant

A good friend of mine
and truly nothing more
Yet his leaving this life
has left me heart-sore
Taken away too soon
to join the shining stars

An anagram is not a monogram
and never a squeamish telegram.
But beware that fully stocked minibar
your favorite red-rum may become a murder!

In response to Writing Prompts by Esther Chilton – prompt word BEACH

I want to walk
the beach with you
without worrying
that there’s somewhere
else you ought to be

I want to feel
the warmth of the sand
beneath our bare feet
walking hand in hand
for hours on end

I want to sit beside you
from days beginning
with breakfast plus lunch
until time for dinner
and wine between us

I want to crawl into bed
to feel the comfort
of your arms around me
with love and lust
and ultimate trust

I want to leave this world
being rocked on your lap
knowing our hearts
were always meant to be
and will be again someday

In response to Crimson’s Creative Challenge #022 “Reformation and Dilapidation”

Each star that passes by overhead
catches an eye
far below
raises a spark
of wonder

Each new bud that flowers in Spring
calls to the honey bees
and the birds sing
a pretty new song
rejoicing in life

Each gust of wind from the Sea
reforms the warm golden sand
covering refuse and decay
wiping away what used to be
for what will come

Each pass of the Earth
around the life giving Sun
turns the day to night
and the night to day
time spinning away

In response to Cee’s Fun Foto Challenge (CFFC) Hosted by Dan Antion for No Facilities