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
An echo of what could’ve been
fades away with each second
The power of time squashes
the voices of friends gone away
A brief burn of passion
before the cold seeps in
Can’t hear the crackling flames
or show what once was real
What could’ve been never let out
held behind that sturdy lock of time
Never will the embers ignite
to warm the heart and soothe the soul
In the dark
where nightmares roam
and distant memories
come back home
In the dark
where I sit alone
and watch my clock
tic like a metronome
In the dark
where evil is grown
and there’s hours before
the sun rears it’s massive dome
In the dark
where spirits are known
and fingers tremble
as I reach for the phone
In the dark
my composure’s blown
you don’t answer my call
drop the phone with a moan
In response to Linda G. Hill’s The Friday Reminder and Prompt for #SoCS Feb. 15, 2025 – STICKLER
When being a stickler is your job,
Then a stickler you shall be,
and be tickled to be a stickler for a fee!
Gypsie’s Wonderful World of Words 