Category: Author

It is a lonely affair to be alone
completely alone
without a spouse
or loved one
not even estranged children
or long lost friends
in the eve of one’s life

Ostracized from a community once loved and beloved service received graciously
and service given willingly
years of respected work
hard but rewarding labor
flushed away by the malicious machinations of a friend

When the sun is setting and the days grow ever shorter
taking me closer into the endless
yawning night that lies ahead
the hearts of people so easily turned by deceitful statements and
falsified records depicting duplicity

So it is I go alone into the abyss
without a smiling face beside me or a warm hand to stroke my face or wipe the tears of pain and sadness slipping from my eyes as I leave this world to enter the next fervently hoping the next part
of my journey is not such a lonely affair

In the Deep South, a young girl argued unsuccessfully with her momma.

“I ain’t lyin momma. Jez and me sawr it an was near ‘tacked by a lion!”

Jez waggled his head up and down furiously in agreement.

“A lyin, a lyin!” He stated emphatically.

“You see? Even Jez says you is lyin!” Momma admonished.

“No, momma! He’s sayin it all wrong. He’s sayin lion, we sawr a lion!”

Papa ran into his home, out of breath and slammed the front door with a bang.

“Momma, you and the yung-uns git to the back of the house. I ain’t lyin, there’s a huge lion just lyin right there in our front garden in-between the liam tree and Mr. Lyon’s old well!”

In response to Friday Faithfuls hosted by Jim Adam’s @ newepicauthor
REBLOG FIGURES OF SPEECH

Thinking deeply because how else can one think, and wondering what figure a figure of speech would sport. Would it be shapely, like the hourglass figure of a young woman entering the spring of her life? Or perhaps be as big as a horse.

With my head in my hands, I ponder the possibility that a figure of speech may be as pretty as a peach, yet only be a pea-brain. There is a slim possibility that a figure of speech could be down-to-earth or more likely be out-of-this-world.

I’m sure that figures of speech would be fit as a fiddle and a barrel of laughs! Not yet being edited or having gone under the knife, and being sure not to cut corners; I’ll end this by stating the pen IS mightier than the sword.

Longing for the security
of permanency
The knowledge that someone
will always care
will always be there
to catch me when I
F
a
l
l

To have a loving family
even when the kids
are grown and friends gone
when pets have passed
Aware reality is fading away
T
i
m
e

To feel a loyal partner
at my side
warm and forever loving
Waking with strong arms
protecting me from the dark
the unknown and the
A
b
y
s
s

To have known
true love
For once and always
in all it’s glory and defeat
pain and happiness
sadness and joy
H
e
a
v
e
n

In response to Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Prompt #323 Prompt Word “OUTSMART” in 96 words only.

The dinosaur, determined to be king of the world and outsmart the lesser dinosaurs; feasted on all smaller creatures. Soon, within a millennium or so, only the largest dinosaurs were left. He became king of the dinosaurs, until the earth shook, opened up and swallowed him whole.

Man, determined to rule the world and outsmart all other living creatures, animal and plant; procreated to capacity. He covered Mother Earth’s soil with ribbons of black tar. Built buildings trying to conquer the clouds, polluted sea and river.

Mother Nature angered, outsmarted man and won.

Rocker’s filled to overflowing
elderly persons poured
into the wooden vessels staring
into the abyss of nothingness

Walking quickly disallowing
their age to touch my youthfulness
Legs strong and sure move
me too quickly into the future

Years melt away forcing hair
to change from brown to gray
and then to speckled white
legs begin to abandon my wishes

Pain an occasional twinge
gains strength invading my body
infiltrates my muscles and bones
against the pain my legs acquiesce

New faces new surroundings
long decks give respite to varied
unpleasant scents within
rows of rockers line the walkway

I think I’ll sit

Four acoustic guitars hung from their places on the music store display rack. Shiny guitar sighed. “It’s not fair, Stripes is always in front.”

Mahogany guitar chuckled, “At least you both get noticed, I get passed over constantly because I’m brown.”

Stripes guitar over-round body vibrated, “You have no idea how humiliating it is to be fondled and ogled then passed over for a better sounding piece like you Mahogany with your deep, rich cadence. Or you Shiny, with your new bridge and titanium bridge pins.”

Tucked away and forgotten in a cabinet beneath the three, Ukulele twanged in disgust.

She is relentless
with claws sharp and long
into my very center she pierces
her will tempered and strong

A scent or word or taste
upon my tongue
then with titanium will
she forces my surrender

Write! She commands me
and when I’m not in the mood
or lack the strength and fortitude
she strikes with deadly accuracy

The words begin to flow
if I do not give credence
she pushes them harder
forms more demanding heed

Pouring words into my mind
filling and bombarding my soul
bending my will to hers
my Muse is loose again

fathers will abandon their children
children will abandon their mothers
mothers hearts break then shatter
and the Earth will weep

neighbors become combative
cities become enemies
countries go to war
and the Earth will tremble

blue skies give way to gray
gray skies give way to black
black skies roil into thunder
and the Earth will shrink

and shrink and shrink
to protect her seas
shrink to protect her land
and the Earth will expel her vermin

continents rise and form
blue skies and white clouds return
animals crawl from where they hid
and the Earth will smile again

The jump was miscalculated and I missed. I skittered to an abrupt halt, trapped in the thick fabric of the woman’s hem. Lifting my face a tiny minuscule, I squinted out and over the tattered fabric to see another woman nearby drag herself out of her chair.

This distraught lady dabbed repeatedly at her skirt, chattering incessantly about a bug being on her person. Now I was distraught. A bug? I hate bugs.

Her face scrunched into cruel delight when she saw me, a picture of outrage. Her skin flecked with red and white blotches set a mottled frame around her mouth; now emitting an ear-shattering cacophony of sound that scalded my own delicate eardrums.

Understanding my life was in peril, I launched myself from the pant leg of my host onto the shoulder of the screaming human, rubbed my legs together and played her my most harmonious cricket song. Just before her big, beefy hand came down on herself in an effort to squash me, I high-jumped from her shaking body and high-tailed it back into the grass where I belonged.