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I am so excited and honored to announce my piece, “Phases (In A Woman’s Life),” has been scheduled for publication on 8/28/23 at 1:30am Eastern Time (ET) by Spillwords.com.

Once it is published, you can access it through the following link:

https://spillwords.com/phases-in-a-womans-life/

Thank you Dagmara K. And Spillwords for your consideration and support!

Beautiful baby as you peer
into the mirror reflecting
your image back to your
unseeing eyes blinded
by glossy magazines filled
with images of unreal
and photoshopped people –

especially women,

How I wish you could see what I see through eyes
tinged with age and experience wisdom born of both to know
and understand that you as you are right now you are so much more beautiful than they will ever be

Your lovely skin even when
an occasional blemish pops through
is a natural creamy essence
they only obtain through manufactured
products and the almighty airbrush
effect computers furnish to disguise
the true faces of those you see there –

especially women,

That which you seek to become
is but a fantasy created by greed
and out of control commercialism
set about to make women of all ages
feel less than they are as they peer
into their mirrored reflection
as you are doing right now

Fight back my loves! Do not fall
into the trap of money-hungry CEO’s
and their advertising cronies who care
naught for the care of your skin or
the sheen of your hair and eyes rimmed only by those sweet long natural lashes
untinged by black goop and glue –

especially women,

Break the mold and break their bank
start your own trend stand up for what’s right and against a standard
that can never be met nor achieved
in the real and natural world where
everyone is born with beauty emanating from within shining through –

especially women!

Pain, physical pain,
is a constant.
Never ending,
always changing.
Sometimes easing,
always increasing.

Pain, an invisible shroud
discoloring a colorful world.
Muting harmonic music
into discordant pulses
of unwelcome sound.
An emotional succubus.

Emotional pain, heartache,
longing, loneliness, aloneness.
Sometimes ending,
ever changing its intensity.
Damaging the heart and soul
of the unwary and inexperienced.

Emotional pain, centered within
a chest, a mind, a stomach and
oftentimes all three; renders a person
incapacitated, wounded, dying
a slow death unseen and unheard
by anyone except the bearer.

Peace, a brief respite slips inside
quietly, unobtrusively.
No fanfare, no fuss, no rending and tearing of flesh or soul thread.
A reprieve offered by sunlight and rain.
Flowers bloomed and sweet earthsong.

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