Cracked

Suliman Sallehi – Pexels

Inspired by Sadje’s What do you see #117

A serious reflection

i see our world as splitting up
coming apart at the seams
politics, pollution, people
tragedies galore

i don’t know how much longer
i can keep it together
teetering on the top of the world
looking down with grief

A funny take

I don’t know how much longer I can keep these two peaks together. My calf and thigh muscles are killing me! But I just can’t let the Earth split in two!

The Good Witches

The room grew dim as a cloud passed over. So much so that I couldn’t see any part of the book I was reading. My hands balled into a fist with frustration.

I heard the caw of a raven, drums and women chanting. They were huddled around the big rock below my window. I began to slide open the window wider to speak to the women on the west side of my two-story home.

“What are you doing here?” I screamed at them. 

“We are trying to blend our will and nature in this coven circle to end worldwide suffering.”

*NOTE – I’ve recently become acquainted with a new kind of wordle that has apparently sparked an international craze. It’s not a game app but rather a link you can find HERE. If you are anything like me, you’ll look forward to it every day! Have fun! 🙂 Do tell me in the comments if you’ve tried it and if you have, what you think of it.

Aria

master1305 – freepik

Inspired by Eugenia’s Weekly Prompt – Harmony & Reena’s Exploration Challenge #213

There once was this awkward-looking fellow,
Who said, “Help, I’m stuck in this awful yellow!”
But it coordinated with his shirt,
And even though the sight of him hurt,
One could hear harmony in his bellow.



Jane Ayres

these shiny gifts

we always tell stories
things that shine
                         – allure –
              a lure for
those who
let daydreams be poems
& poems         daydreams

remembering

you were
lilac and yellow freesias
warm sugared milk 
unwavering
maternal love

estuary whispers 

there are years of wasps
& years of
notwasps
but most of the time
life stings

unleashing shadows

the consultant said a shadow was showing on the scan
                             try not to worry
we tried           
but once the words were out   
veiled darkness began seeping 
growing greedy 
birthing shadow spawn & we knew      
from now on   
there would always be shadows

a moment

sitting with grief that twists   
I pause   
             -   a sip of strong coffee   
             -   a bite of whisky-infused chocolate    
             (redundant birthday gift)    
you are still here   
& I am    
(still)    
afraid

*TRIGGER WARNING: MISCARRIAGE*

New life    

We can keep trying, he says. We won’t give up.
She washes freshly red-spotted sheets, pegs them on the line, listens to the merciless wind smothering hope. Later, she dreams about finding a sparrow’s nest in the hedge, hears hungry soft-feathered downy babies crying to be fed.  But when she looks again, they have disappeared.
We can keep trying, she says. We won’t give up. 

~~~

UK-based writer Jane Ayres completed a Creative Writing MA at the University of Kent in 2019 aged 57. She has work in Dissonance, Confluence, Lighthouse, Streetcake, The North, The Poetry Village, Door is a Jar, Kissing Dynamite, (mac)ro(mic), Versification, Crow & Cross Keys, Ample Remains, Sledgehammer, and The Forge. This is Jane’s first feature on The Short of It.

  

Untitled

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Reblogs – Sadje & David Guerrieri

The lament of letting people, precious or otherwise, down—humanity’s consistent occurrence. In pain, we continue to pass on agony, and alone we grieve.

Anguish by Sadje

A sharp pain I felt 
Like a dagger plunged 
Deep into my heart 
The anguish, the agony unbearable 
I teetered, held out my hand for support 
It met empty air……… 
 
There was no one there 
To hold my hand, to console 
This aloneness has taught me a lot 
A valuable lesson to rely 
Only on myself and myself alone 
The pain still hurts sometimes 
But the anguish has died down 
My courage has lulled it to sleep

What have we done? by David Guerrieri 

I am not quite sure exactly what 
Some parents expect of their children 
In terms of success and failure 
Because of course each individual is unique 
In their own belief system developed through life 
Though I do know exactly what 
Some middle-aged men and women 
Expect of their parent’s, which is 
Love and Understanding that 
Love and Understanding means more to them 
Than any award or prize, delusions of wealth 
And superfluous measures of success 
Handed down from Great-Grandfather to Grandfather 
Then Father to Son who’s soul purpose it often seems 
Is to belittle the latter, like some draconian wheel 
Turning itself in circles, only to cause 
An endless cycle of fear and inferiority 
Leading nowhere fast, leading nowhere good 
On an endless road of resentment and ill worth. 
And we don’t ask for this. We are born to this. 
We are flesh and bone 
Fueled by the imperfections of our father’s 
Father’s, father’s son 
Who one day will understand he did nothing wrong 
Oh Mother, dear mother 
What have we done? 

Wired For It

Redux

I Write Her

20180407_144805.jpg

Roughly translated from German:

Music is love.

     It can laugh with me.
     It can cry with me.
     It can bring together what was once separated.

Music can tell me what lips are afraid to say.

Music can bring back what I lost.

Music alone therefore is chosen.

Margarete Kernbach is my grandmother on my mother’s side. I found this parchment with her words following my mother’s death in 2012. It was among the things she left behind, very simply preserved in a plastic frame. I never knew my Oma wrote poetry. Nor do I know if this was the only poem or if there were ever any other writings by her. I only know of this one.

Discovering this little poem ties me to my grandmother in a profound way, at least for me it does. Not that I realized it at that moment though. I…

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Evening Jaunt

LuizClas – Pexels

On my walk, I whipped at the grass with my rod. Then with a surprised “huh?” and a sigh, I caught a glimpse of the birds ahead. I was fraught with anticipation as a shape on the ground emerged the closer I got. Then I stepped in cow shit. Yuck!

The gap between the animal and myself was not that wide but too low for me that I might check its condition. Thinking for a moment, I decided to use the lead fishing anchor to touch it. Letting the line down, I thrust at its head.

I held my breath.

Pure Haiku – Ghostlight theme Acceptance!

So happy Freya to have this piece selected for the Ghostlight theme and to be in a group of such talented writers! ❤

purehaiku

travel to the stars
past conscious experience
into the surreal

© Susi Bocks

If you enjoy the short and succinct, join me at I Write Her for the minutiae! 

This haiku is part of our Ghostlight theme.

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2022

Inspired by Reena’s Exploration Challenge #212 – It’s new… does it mean it’s welcome?
& Eugenia’s Weekly Prompt – Chapter

another year
another chapter
it’s new… does it mean it’s welcome

… only if it brings us something better
what does better even mean
seems insurmountable

the division, the animosity, the inhumanity
politics, people, our ever-deteriorating climate
it’s not new… but some positive change would be welcome