with low notes strongly pure light through dust of your worries
courage for times of cold silence when you need the music to return
I will sing you in truth until you remember the voice born with you.
Yet to be Seen
where blue crosses yellow melting green, life will meet us in colors combined
How is it that water is such a crafted artist?
Consistently she reflects the whole of light and darkness
grays blurred or glint of rose upon watery wavering waves.
Then offers still life in contrasts days of no wind, glasslike
surfaces smoothly reflective that stop me in time.
Lean into the loud hold curiosity’s hand consider this thundering consider it may not mean what you thought.
This crack clashing boom only an illusion of danger.
Maybe it isn’t a disastrous end but a calling of resounding strength a breaking through from your ancestors reverberating out across the sky,
“We are with you.”
Ali Grimshaw contributes to the world as an educator, life coach, and a poet. She is passionate about facilitating shared writing experiences and group inquiry so that others can experience a connection with their own authentic voices. Her poems have been published in several anthologies and journals including Vita Brevis, Right Hand Pointing, and Ghost City Review. You can find her writing circle offerings and her poetry on her blog at flashlight batteries.
Though reality Is often stark there is a Place where the Queen wears Creativity for a Crown and inspiration flows.
Alone in the dark She waited for the door to Open unsure of What stood on the other side But her heart open to it.
Our cries make them Tremble with the ground as it Quakes with silent strength Though pain may rack our lands We refuse to be silent.
Once in a circle The earth catches up to the Moon cloaking her in Its glowing red shadow then The cycle begins anew.
This is Jaya Avendel’s second feature with The Short of It. You can read her first here. Jaya lives in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia, where she dips her pen into the inkwell of fantasy and prose. Often inspired by life in the forest around her, she writes atNin Chronicles.
Fallen leaves, yellowed. Hot winds blast during the day. Sweet Mangoes beckon.
Festival of Colours-Holi
Hues of fire on trees. Festival of hues on cheeks. Pristine moonlit night.
Wet stray on road, Searching for shelter from rain. Thunderclaps exhort.
An entry in Lockdown Dairy
Bare roads, sans human. Nature sets up symphony, With birds, bees and breeze.
The beautiful Taj Mahal-India
On Yamuna’s bank, Love’s monument pristine white; With the moonbeams vie.
Indian Winter nights
Winter nights- Sitting around a fire Waiting for the morn.
A cough, Cold air’s whiplash; Invites sufferers’ curse.
Long nights In a donated quilt. A homeless prays in sleep.
Goutam is passionate about poetry and writes whenever something or someone touches his heart. He lives in Kolkata, India and writes poetry in English, Hindi and Bengali. His book on English poetry “Hues of Life” (Notion Press) can be found at Amazon. He can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org. Goutam blogs at Straight from Heart.
pewter stone rises craggy head cloaked in rainclouds; the last mountain looms
Freya Pickard finds fulfillment in writing about the mythical world of Nirunen in both poetry and fantasy novels. This is her 2nd feature on The Short of It. She is currently working on her epic fantasy, The Kaerling, and gets her inspiration for the villains from the people she meets in the hospitality industry.
The warmth awakens me but I am tightly bound. I can’t move. My lifeblood is pulsing through my veins, waiting to explode. My head is pounding and screaming to break free of this dungeon. Yet, I can’t move. A crack appears at the top of the cell, bright light is filtering in. I push with my might against the wall, as the crack begins to grow. I feel the closeness of freedom. I can taste it in the air, and feel it in the warm light. Pushing again, the binding splits. I roll out of the slit, stretching, feeling the ecstatic of freedom. The warmth strengthens me for my mission, my colors unfurl refracting the light on the leaves. Time is wasting, I must hurry, only six weeks of life at best.
Of all the colors in the rainbow, one color shows more fare It adorns the kings of foreign lands, woven in robes that they wear But clothes and robes that are made by man cannot even compare With the delicate beauty of nature’s flowers that bloom without a care
Their colors may vary from bloom to bloom, simply soft to very rare Bees and butterflies don’t care about color as the nectar is there to share.
Please Don’t Leave
The most life-sustaining force in all creation is that of showing love It melts together the heart and soul like was meant from above. All of God’s creation was given this ability to express this vital feeling For love, tenderness, and nurturing is what keeps this life from reeling With no love around, darkness will ensue with a deep sense of foreboding Fear will arise, and hope will flee leaving the heart and soul eroding Don’t allow this eroding but hold on to loving, allow the sun to come in Always keep these feelings alive, so if lost we will know how to begin.
Anita Neal enjoys writing poetry and shorts that reflect the beauty of nature and importance of love. The first two pieces are reflections of the beauty God created for us to enjoy. The third one shows the honor and importance of love we all need.
Along nature park, Ladybug roams Petunia; Swallow perched on branch.
Courtyard stroll displays, Tulips tucked as Jasmine bloom; Cloud covers full moon.
Amidst forest road, Cheetah concedes Lion’s lunge; Carcass near tree stump.
WHAT LIES AHEAD
Midday at seaside, Sail of ship roughened by waves; Lightning strikes land.
Gardenias petals; Hold dewdrops moisture and heat – Summer bees invade.
CIRCLE OF LIFE
Field of Daffodils; Leaves wither on moth pupa – Cardinal flies by.
This is Monica’s second feature on The Short of It. Passionate about writing, she is on a mission to make her mark in the world of wordsmiths. Her love for a challenge draws her to the unique poetry that is haiku; a field she hopes to eventually master. Her journey has only begun. You can read more of her work at Tiny Tots Poetry.