We Owe Them

Looking at the world around me, I see a tremendous amount of beauty, but woven into the fabric of living is much that is distressing. The sadness and cruelty that falls upon the young ones, the vulnerable, and the innocent ones is heartbreaking, and worse some of us humans don’t even care that it happens. What is wrong with our world?

Children didn’t ask to be born. They are entitled to have parents who are loving, nurturing, kind, and not dysfunctional. Many days and nights, even doing the best that I could be as a parent, have left me with guilt-induced sadness. I know that I didn’t live up to what I thought should be great parenting; I made many mistakes.

As adults, we have a responsibility to provide the next generation hope their lives will bear fruit in a world that is notoriously treacherous to navigate to begin with. They deserve only the best. If all babies were born wanted, loved, and raised appropriately, future generations would thrive. Maybe. I hope.

Fingers crossed Charles is right!

Reblogs – Anonymously Hal & Penny Wilson

I realize that our struggles will affect us differently, but perhaps we keep in the back of our minds to not let the darkness color our hope. Of course, we can’t always control our biology by instinct alone. Do whatever it takes to find your peace.

Viridian by Anonymously Hal

I never settled on gray…  
I settled on viridian.  
I settled on a  
romanticized intensity  
seeped in tender  
in hopes to cloak  
the darkness and  
cravings for desolation…

H.O.P.E. by Penny Wilson 

H.O.P.E. = Hold On. Pain Ends. 

The Painter

Inspired by Reena’s Exploration Challenge #262 – Random Dreams & Image &
Moonwashed Weekly Prompt #124 – New Dawnings

dig deep into your bucket
and splash accordingly
to realize your aspirations

they say colorful hope
is the promise of a bright future
may the new dawnings
fulfill your random and specific dreams


having faith is guessing with attitude
but outcomes are always unknown
given a million and one odds
the endless possibilities the variables produce
hearts will break banking on false promises
or lives change for good on a dime
and feel everything in between

life is unpredictable
and indiscriminate
hold on for the wild ride

I Became


That gaze lightened my heaviness.
Those eyes told me I was safe.

Tender forcefulness reached in
and unearthed me from
the hardened layers of
self-imposed eradication.

You found out who I was
and loved me anyway.

Years of destruction erased.
You easily removed all the layers of my shame.
I felt unafraid in your embrace.

My hard callouses protected me,
you smoothed them out with your touch.
My bleeding open wounds
stitched up by your love.

I was healing.
I recovered.
I became sane.

Originally posted 7/31/2018 on I Write Her.


the darkness in this room
matches my own
as i pull the covers tighter
wrapping up in this cocoon, my shield
i sink into black

time stands still
for more than the RDA
the bed, a safe space
insulates me with warmth not felt
for eons

through the haze of awakening
flickers of the past emerge in my dreams
dead friends come to life again
fun family vacation scenes from long ago
friendships once broken, repaired

a kaleidoscope vision of possibility
tugs at the seam of my current dimmed perspective
perhaps loosening the hold of the darkness
perhaps hopelessness will find the path to depart
perhaps dreams will become reality

NOTE: I am not experiencing these feelings at this time. And RDA is short for Recommended Daily Allowance. 🙂

Candice Louisa Daquin

Exulted Flay  

Here the sound of water being circled in machine, washing clean, our plates scraped raw in delight
Here the rustle
of forms, out of focus, lying together with fright
How in
intimacies stitch they need speak no words to convey
A joy as deep
in lasting satiate turning on exulted flay
Here our
mortal coil resolves its eternal ache to meet
A place of
sanctuary for those who wander, must also find their sleep
It’s only
pain daughter
Okay let’s
bring in the shame, have a good look, make it your friend, blaze and fall loose
on dancing hooks
We can’t bear
the suffering so watch the flames die down, to slender remembrances all in a
row, we are golden and then we are dull

Relinquished habits 

Deep below the earth
I might have found you
Climbing from stalagmites
Brushed in clay
There’s a cost for
Relinquished habits
Bowing in bad weather


In the storm
they said goodbye
as car alarms
faltered, testily bleating resentment for torrent
she said; I cannot control anything
her palms up in supplication
as willow
trees, burdened with rain, lowered
growing more sorrowful
white leaves
bleached by last week’s sun
run like
blind mice down street edges heading for

it wasn’t far
from how they felt
saying goodbye
in storm
furiously battling
anyone’s will

Entirety 1

How many
turns of moon, shifts of sea, change of seasons, will pass in glassy dance,
before my empty arms, and untouched skin, shall feel again your weight, your
breath, your familiar smell and warmth, coming into me like returning electricity

shaken loose and firing, starburst over naked souls

How long
before I forget to notice I am waiting, my arms wilted in devout, my breasts
hollow with doubt, there is only time, ticking down in unwilling reminder, you
are gone, you are not here, this body will grow old before it ceases waiting,

the longing remaining like poisoned quill stuck in jugular

Entirety 2

You own me in obsession, I am your slave, I do not exist but when you cast your net wide enough to absorb me into you, this place of belonging, so unwilling and natural, we tumble, we pinch and curl, like hungry spirits, biting life from each other in starving steam of longing, casting fire into water

If you never
come back, I will be like those burnt silhouettes of humans, fallen back
against stick, crushed into waiting stance, faceless, without motion, without
life, a straw effigy of a person who is no more, running after you in her young

lean chase, she knows if she does not catch, her entirety will erase


Never had a
Never had a
Never took an
Never walked
the Stage
Though I
I kept promises
Bon coeur ne peut mentir

Sometimes we don’t
rinse clean through
conventional means
We who are
unbaptized, undocumented
We who skirt
parameters, still paying attention
Hold out
unconventional hands
Bible, without Watchtower, without Torah
in swag of
secret climb, unable to reveal how
we get high
enough to save from drowning


But moon

You remind me

Ghosts are
not alive

And pain

Will fade in

You are whole

Then a sliver


Blind in

To return

Bright And



I will


Be like



Candice Louisa Daquin is a Psychotherapist. She also edits and writes. Daquin was editor of SMITTEN: This Is What Love Looks Like, an anthology of queer female poetry. Inclusiveness and kindness are her mantras. www.thefeatheredsleep.com You can find much of the work she has been involved with or written herself HERE. Also, her poetry has been reblogged on I Write Her many times HERE. I’m a fan! ❤ This is her first debut on The Short of It.


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Reblog – Spotlight Poetry – ‘Without Love’ – by Goff James

Even with the despair in both the image and poetry, there is still hope. I thoroughly enjoyed the emotional ride both took me on.

Art, Music, Photography, Poetry and Quotations

© Serj Fedulov, Loneliness

Without Love by Goff James

Poem Attribution © goffjamesart/photography/poetry

Click here to read more poetry by Goff James


Image Attribution © Serj Fedulov, Loneliness, (Date Unstated)

Source Attributionhttps://www.saatchiart.com/art/Painting-Loneliness/324530/215097/view

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Seeking Light

dysfunction, years in the making
substantive love denied
fuckery freely given
innocence betrayed

rough starts
and disastrous endings
inhaling the methane of my own shit
lungs never quite breathing freely

almost at the end
sinking the lowest
gave rise to aspiration
and just like that, there was hope