In The Hole

I was on my own now, only the fire’s flame keeping me company. Well, that and ants marching through a gap in the stones. I reached down to touch them, intruding on their world. They hurriedly and excitedly split up their formation, scrambling every which way in the light of the fire.

My fingers were numb now, but the burning sensation in my hands from the night’s cold temperatures was still a fresh memory. 

I wrote my goodbyes on the cave walls with the ashes from the fire. I was longing for my family that I would never see again.

A Production

a performance
is a temporary gig
an intentional form of disguise
speaking the truths of others
masquerading as many different types

the characters may show us bits of ourselves
perhaps offering guidance for change
those emotional scenes taken to heart
can profoundly affect us
leading to tears shed in the darkness of a theater

fun and laughter can also be had
moral indignation can arise as well
strong messages lead to thoughts of righting wrongs
each production has a different goal
but our job is to respond

be it a matinee
an evening show with popcorn
or at home in sweats and t’s
two or more hours of entertainment
how wonderful that is







Progeny

Inspired by Moonwashed Weekly Prompt – Nonsensical & Reena’s Exploration Challenge #259

their precious faces
and nonsensical babbles
sheer joy in their eyes
ah, the memories of those days
bring a smile to my face

the poopy diapers
siblings fighting
snot-filled noses
hours upon hours of crying
not so much

each year brought new challenges
as milestones were reached and lessons were learned
and just when my last nerve was plucked
growth occurred
i uttered a sigh of relief

they are grown now
having flown the coop
to fashion their lives as they see fit
it’s satisfying to know
i got two things right

Reblogs – A Faded Romantic

I rarely post two pieces by the same poet, but whether recent or older, these seemed to mesh well together. They made me think that those people who are purposefully unique tend to end up being a beloved someone. 🙂

Someone

There is always 
someone 
who is our weakness 

Always someone 
who breaks through 
all our defenses. 

Always someone 
who leaves us 
breathless. 

Unique

Do not allow yourself 
to be defined 
or guided 
or labeled 
or maligned 
by your sexuality 
your age 
your birthplace 
or your race 
or the proud colour 
of your face. 

Do not allow yourself 
to be judged, measured 
or explained 
by the dead hand 
of tradition 
or by the racist misogyny 
of religion 
or by the empty 
expectations 
of others 
and what they want 
to see. 

For you 
are you 
and only you. 
Unique 
special 
beautiful 
and free. 

Shattering The Hold

Redux

Intensity laced with lunacy; it’s seductively subliminal.
Past hurt swept away by the look masquerading as deeply in love.
It’s not love.
It’s danger.
And it easily has you.
If you are not careful.
Psychological warfare playing out in the depths of your mind.
Don’t be deceived by the charm of the snakes, the force of the demanding ones
or the egos of those where clever observation never occurs.
They will hurt you.
Maybe not right away, but they will.
The scars of learning are deep and never healing.
See it before it gets a hold of you.

Originally published 10/22/16 on PhiloSusi.  Re-posted with minor revisions 8/10/2018 on I Write Her.

Seized

The boys tried to plead with their captors. “Free us!” But where would they go? Trapped on a ship sailing the Philippine Sea, they could crave their freedom, but then what? They’d actually only get as far as the ledge of the boat.

Their situation tested their will. Cursing their fate, they angrily rattled the chain connecting them. “Why did we let them steal us from our families? Wouldn’t you rather be dead than enslaved?” The boys thought of the games that distracted them, leading to their imprisonment. 

Just then, the main doors opened. It was the infamous Christopher Columbus!

Abating Sins

the slickness of my tongue in youth
divulged my immaturity
when speaking untruths to get my way

at the liquor store
with a fake id
batting eyelashes for rum


at school
with drama-filled explanations
of why homework wasn’t turned in

at home
the walls cringing with angst
from screams between generations

at parties
braggadocious and vain
impressing the girls and boys for attention

as a fledgling human
i excelled in drama
yet aging now prefers that the lies come to an end

Slow Death

Inspired by Moonwashed Musings Weekly Prompt – Transient &
Reena’s Exploration Challenge #258 – Cesspool

it’s inevitable
we hit rough patches in life
then yearn for tranquility and comfort
or at least the ability to move to safety

there is still hope…

self-care is a must
an escape quite possibly necessary
clarity just within reach
as long as we stretch out our hands

don’t hesitate to resolve…

but swallowing feelings
pushing them down
deeper and deeper over time
builds a cesspool within

you will begin to sink…

seeking the transient warming from spirits
diving headfirst into liquid oblivion
they say, self-medication
in reality, self-destruction

addiction can kill
if we let it

Reblogs – Tien Skye & The Blighters Rock

Both pieces are exquisitely short but pack brilliant messages about the things we love, enjoy, pursue, engage in, and adore. Ultimately, my point of putting these two together is that we, as individuals, decide what ecstasy is to us.

6WSP by Tien Skye

Photo by Janko Ferlic on Pexels.com

locked in a library of freedom

Oracle by The Blighters Rock

in pure ecstasy
the priestess of the serpent
gave destiny pause