tyro human enters life unknowingly
burgeoning forth at a slow pace
percipient as best as it’s able
reaching the pinnacle of life
only to feel a saudade ache
approaching the hoary stage
what is it all for?
Tag: death
Jane Ayres
duet
your last breath
shifts
sheds skin
for oilslick
feathershine
finds sweet voice
with blackbird
becomes avian
dawn chorus
continuous
melody
glitters
mends
my broken heart
ascension
on the windowsill
your favourite robin
stands sentry
his beloved song
keeps company
a gift
the perfect soundtrack
as you diminish
finally slip from
this world &
take the next flight
the intricate rhythms of tiny birds
this morning
I opened a book
& a tiny bird flew out
although
his wings
seemed to
grow
as he got closer
to the light
from my window
the unassuming sky
soft colours
& whispering angels
waiting
the myth of the crimson kiss (love bites)
blood on the curtain
still warm to the touch
aren’t we all monsters
in our own way?
Stitching Time
I put a seashell to my ear
& we walk softly. Sad, lost,
fallen things. Caustic strangers.
Melancholy (cryptic companion)
has tenacious shadowy roots &
I put a seashell to my ear,
watching, waiting. Lives
entangled. Entwined
fallen things, caustic strangers
knotted, tightly shackled. I
carry them in my heart & head &
I put a seashell to my ear
when we walk. I
remember moments, stillborn
fallen things. Caustic strangers
losing a loved one. We
reflect on all the others lost.
I put a seashell to my ear.
Fallen things, caustic. Strangers.
The algorithms of concealment
Rose knows
Rose knows but doesn’t care
Clare doesn’t care either
but then she doesn’t know
what Rose knows
Is keeping a secret
the secret to
forged friendships?
flow
familiar drops
of blood
splash
into soapy water
pinking
greasy crockery
another nosebleed
relieves the
pressure
~~~
Jane Ayres has work in publications that include Magma, The North, and Lighthouse. In 2021, she was shortlisted for the Aesthetica Creative Writing Award, a winner of the Laurence Sterne Prize, and her first collection edible was published by Beir Bua Press (July 2022). Website: janeayreswriter.wordpress.com Twitter: @workingwords50 https://www.youtube.com/@slowgallop451 Jane was first featured in 2022 and was nominated for the 2022 Pushcart Prize for her piece – remembering.
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#TheShortofIt – Vol 1 The Sound of Brilliance and Vol 2 Reflections & Revelations on Amazon
I Know
Inspired by What do you see #232
come
fall into my arms
let me take away your despair
i want to hold you
as the pain passes
from substantial to weightless
take all the time you need
let it all out
it’s okay
soon you’ll feel the heavy sobs lessen
and see the tears dry up
as your breath rhythmically calms down
bud, i promise
you’ll make it through
to this new reality
Ivor Steven
New Light
Cascading sunshine
Falls into my cloudy eyes
Cold ponds feel new light
Further Down
From the Pandemic’s
Depressing downs
Into my Covid’s
Dressing gown
Finality
after we have consumed
the leftover wine
and desecrated the sundial’s shadow
the dark side of the moon
will finally recede from view
Co-existence
Beneath the trees and bushes
Lives an underground network
Prospering on giving and receiving
Our Time
Time waits for no one
Everyone passes in time
Time hears no commands
~~~
Ivor Steven, formerly an Industrial Chemist and then a Plumber, is now retired; he has been published in numerous anthologies and online magazines. He has two self-published books, Tullawalla and Perceptions. Ivor is an active member of the Geelong Writers Inc.(Australia) and an appointed writer for Coffee House Writers magazine (USA). He was first featured in 2022 and was nominated for the 2022 Pushcart Prize for his piece – The Sum is One. You can read his features and reblog by clicking HERE.
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G.A. Neal
Conversation with Myself
Why am I going?
I know I am not wanted there.
But I must go. Is it duty…love…or both?
Unsure. Leaning on both.
That is how it is with family.
Not all families are beautiful
But they are still family.
How sick is he, really?
Won’t know ‘til I get there.
It is a 12-hour drive.
Why am I going?
I know I am not wanted there.
From Death to Life
Smoke hangs heavily from the forest fire
Thick plumes of darkness like a funeral pyre
Death of a forest while it crumbles to ash
Trees deep moaning, as they burn in a flash
Ability to breathe, all creatures will suffer
Fighting to survive, life here is tougher
Tough as it is, once the death has moved on
New life will begin, setting a brand new tone
Those that survive death on a forest floor
Will spread out new life for all to adore
The beauty of renewal, a beautiful sight to see
A reminder to us all, how wonderful life can be.
Hopes and Dreams
Standing at my full height, reaching for the sky
Feeling the warmth radiating down from on high
Many are beside me as the wind hits my face
Our lives are too short, soon gone without a trace
What be our purpose with a season so short
Barely enough time for a horse to even snort
Stretching out our petals of colors so bright
For all passersby to marvel in delight
The life of a flower, not that different from a man
Both are reaching out for a calm gentle hand
Sharing the love of life that we’ve been given
With hopes and dreams to be shared in our livin’.
Life Cycle
Flo stared into the bush at the beauty she saw.
“Teddy, do you know what that is?” Flo asked.
Teddy sat next to Flo being careful with his large basset feet.
“What ‘cha seeing Flo?” he asked.
“That white thing in the bush.”
“Oh, wow. Look, it moved.”
“What are you guys staring at so hard,” asked Scarlett as she moseyed into the yard wrapping her long feline tale around Teddy’s back.
“That thing hanging there.”
“That’s a cocoon.”
“A what?” Flo asked.
“You know how tadpoles down at the pond turn into frogs as they grow? Some caterpillars turn into butterflies. It is part of their life cycle. Flo, you are a Robin and lay eggs to create your young. Cats and dogs, like me and Teddy, give birth to miniatures of us. That’s our cycle of life.”
“Life sure is pretty,” said Flo watching the cocoon.
My Summer Joys
Strolling softly through the garden’s power
Still feels moist from a nice summer shower
A few weeds are pulled and left for dead
Tomato on the vine, some are turning red
Corn on the stalk, but too early for silk string
Squash turning ripe, what joy they will bring
Beans not doing well, it’s been too hot
Maybe now with rain, we could get a lot
Head to the house, time for some rest
What waits in the fridge, is summer’s best
Off with the shoes and hot socks too
Feet need to breathe, there’s nothing left to do
My senses are alert and my heart is a yellin’
Opening the fridge door for the cold watermelon.
~~~
G.A. Neal is a writer who loves to tell stories from her heart that hopefully encourage others. Her words remind us that whether the world surrounding us is bright and beautiful or dark and scary, we can always have a hand of hope holding us keeping us safe. G.A. was first featured in 2020 and then again in 2022. Click HERE to see her previous features. In 2021, she was a Pushcart Prize Nominee for her piece A Monarch Task.
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Lethal Beauty
Redux
protected by troops
legally a painkiller
black trade heroin
either way, people dying
by the hundreds and thousands
Inspired by Inspired by Hélène Vaillant What do you see? 11/6/18 Image above from the post, but unfortunately, the site no longer exists.
Originally posted 11/10/2018, on I Write Her.
Lorraine Lewis
DEWDROP
Dewdrop glistening
At the dawn of a new day
The promise of light
SOON
Soon my time will come
For life is slipping away
I look to the sun
WIND
The wind carries me
I am a wisp in the air
At last I am free
THE DEEP
Deep calls to deep cries
Rise up into the heavens
Water covers me
LIGHT DIVINE
Light divine
Shine on
Take me to my resting place
Down in the dark earth
~~~
Lorraine Lewis has always written poetry but began to write more earnestly after having serious advanced blood cancer, going blind, and becoming wheelchair-bound. She greatly enjoys experimenting with different forms of poetry, preferring shorter forms. Some of her work was published in The Short of It – Volume 1 – The Sound of Brilliance and in The Short of It – Volume 2 – Reflections & Revelations. You can find all her work I’ve shared – reblogs and features HERE. She received the Pushcart Prize nomination for Winter’s Beauty featured in 2022.
If you’d like to be featured on The Short of It in the future,
click here for the submission guidelines.
Formidable
Redux
you dared to cross me
watch as i brew your ending
with a single hair
bubble, bubble – your trouble
laughing as your life drains out
Originally published October 24, 2018, on I Write Her.
Foreboding
Redux
Feelings of anguish.
The call came expectedly.
“We lost her today.”
Originally posted October 1, 2018, on I Write Her.
I Write Her 