Every decision we make and every path we take is in our hands, except the outcome. Like the seasons, we have no control over the changes that occur.
Bright October by Murray Robertson
yesterday’s flower
at the north end
of a sunbeam,
some things
seem never
outdated.
but yesterday’s
sunshine has
lost its meaning,
relevance and
excitement,
colours fading now.
as i look out the
window, i see
winter approach.
a chill already
blights the
morning light.
Milestone
Well worn,
our path together,
though not
well-traveled.
Our destination
nowhere near
the one we chose.
Where we parted,
all that remains
is a milestone
of what once was
our life together.
Reading Between the Lines
Expression
Fine lines, creases
Framing the lips
Corners of the eyes
Within those eyes
A gleam of enthusiasm
The dull shade of weariness
Regarding those lips
The glimmer of teeth
A solemn line of doubt
Impression
A gleam in the eyes
Taken for joy
Or is it anger?
Teeth shown in anger
Or is that a hint of laughter?
The lips might say
Or is it all weariness?
The answer lies in both
Behind the mask
Shorter Still
Far from brief, the time left
when viewed in the past.
A lifetime to shape a future,
with no end in sight.
Shorter now, it seems.
The slideshow of bygone images
little more than a time-lapse,
details fewer each day.
Shorter still, ahead.
The end on the horizon,
while goals slip beyond,
their time misspent, gone.
Beneath the Waves
Nearly whispering, I say,
“Every wave that ever passed over
this shell is held inside for you to hear.”
Eyes wide, you ask, “When I get bigger,
can I dive with you and hear the shells in the water?”
And so your thirst for knowledge was born.
Yours is now a world of numbers,
but you have known wizards and knights,
poetry and prose, music and art.
And, from time to time,
you still hear the waves
washing over that shell.
In the Dark
What transpires in a week? In a month?
You show a different face, revealing more, yet less.
There is a cloud hanging over you. Below,
around you. Are there secrets you would share
under different circumstances? The greater the light,
the less I know of you. Are you more open to another,
while I am left in the dark? You make no promise
I’ll see you this evening. We play this game,
you keeping your distance as I try to read you, each day
the window ever smaller, till you fade from sight, again.
Passing Madness
There’s a madness to it
this rush to color
From a blanket of green
to red
yellow
blazing orange
and, finally,
to brown
We are seasoned in this experience
And so we wait
for the return of green
Until, once again,
the madness of color
that marks the passing of the seasons
Path to Winter
golden leaves
warm light on cold day
honeyed tea
maple leaf
on path to winter
will not wait
fallen leaves
carried by river
memories
bare branches
seen in fading light
shorter days
single leaf
clinging stubbornly
winter wind
~~~
Ken Gierke has been published in The Short of It, Vita Brevis Press, Silver Birch Press, and Amethyst Review, as well as in The Moons of Autumn from Word Weaving and easing the edges: a collection of everyday miracles, from D Ellis Phelps. His poetry blog: https://rivrvlogr.wordpress.com/ Ken also had pieces selected for the first anthology – The Sound of Brilliance.
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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. 🙂
There is always
someone
who is our weakness
Always someone
who breaks through
all our defenses.
Always someone
who leaves us
breathless.
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.
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.
locked in a library of freedom
in pure ecstasy
the priestess of the serpent
gave destiny pause
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
THE MIDAS TOUCH
I am no Midas
yet everything I touch now
acquires new meaning
Is it an artist’s vision
or a poet’s call and yearning?
LIAR MIRRORS
change seeps in
imperceptibly
entrenches
itself in
deep psyche layers
mirrors lie with the same face
PRESSED FLOWERS
memories unfold
-a pressed flower in the book
crushed before its time
I strive to read stories etched
on petals, not the pages
BEYOND THE RAINBOW
rainbows show
multiple layers,
complex truths
in seven
predefined colors
-I look for what lies beyond
~~~
Reena Saxena is a former banker, coach, and writer from Mumbai, India. Published works are available on Amazon – When Time Stopped (Fiction), Com Pen Di Um (Poetry Anthology), Life As It Happens (Poetry Anthology), Basic Banking for Debt Recovery Agents, and E-books on Money Psychology available on the MoneyGoalz website. This is Reena’s first feature on The Short of It.
Submissions are now closed but if you’d like to be featured on The Short of It in the future,
click here for the submissions guidelines.
#TheShortofIt
making bad decisions
just to survive
just enough sabotage
to ruin my day
surviving despite it
even thriving on occasion
even elegantly
to brighten my day
Memories Sweet Taste
Taste the memories
Harvests after sweat and spade
Earth has its own soul
This Thing About Trees
leaves tangle in her hair
from aging trees
roots locked
in shared vibrations
spring brings growth
rings stretch the girth
age is crowned with colors
changing in time
sangria scented lips
tease in her shade
youth finds folly
yet, the wisdom
of the sage
overseer
prevails
there is no way for youth
to escape the elder court
its shadows and arms
hold all there is to know
about the beating
of the drum
of the heart
There Was A Night in Raleigh
Twinkling little lights
captured my attention
stars about the night
A celebration
clinking glasses
over charcuterie
I walked to the window
once formalities are done
I gaze downward
My eyes are drawn
to the thrift shop
on the corner
Bright lights spill
to the sidewalk
an elder struts his girth
Another day of gratitude
to make a scuff and repast
to take the flavors in
And we haven’t had dessert
but the man wrapped
in the blue blanket
sleeping on the bench
warmed to a cotton-filled dream
which was just enough to forget
the planets did not align
for him or his kind
Sprinkle, twinkle
make a fire in the barrel
warm the hearts
of humanity
Dessert is best served
to those who deserve
the sweetness
let him have mine
An Uncertain Life
he cuts through the night
with the sharpest knife he finds
from his busy mind
fast pacing his life
he stumbled over leaf piles
not noting the signs
waiting for the train
a kitten rubs against him
he shoos her away
coffee and bagel
riding the speed track subway
ready to get off
panhandler plays harp
he calls his job to check-in
stops dead in his tracks
what he heard is how
this day ends all his ventures
now he’s on his own
he sits on a bench
full of angst stares at his cell
not sure what to do
he stands up and looks
at all that surrounds him now
could he be the man
with harmonica
maybe the bagel schmear guy
how about those leaves
blowing, floating, gone
they’re no longer in his path
lost at the turning
~~~
Lisa Tomey is a poet, writer, & publisher from Raleigh, NC. She is an editor for Fine Lines and manager of the poetry circle of the Garden of Neuro Institute. Follow her on ProlificPulse.blog & ProlificPulse.com. Lisa was featured twice on The Short of It – May 2020 and October 2020. Her piece, Silence, featured in the first anthology – The Sound of Brilliance, and was nominated for the Pushcart Prize.
Submissions are now closed but if you’d like to be featured on The Short of It in the future,
click here for the submissions guidelines.
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Inspired by Reena’s Exploration Challenge #256 – Re & Moonwashed Musings Weekly Prompt – Directionless
the prerequisite of reasonable goals
drive, stamina, and interest
otherwise
directionless apathy
offers up zero outcomes
Seasons change, nature matures, and life continues leaving behind memories for us to recall and reflections raising concern.
autumn, in our
garden is still
a lively place
things change
as the light
begins to fail
while now,
honey bees,
are back
and colchicum
suddenly comes up
(we had forgotten)
from distant fires
imported smoke
has come again
fueled by
dry things,
untended
by some who
do not care.
our world burns up
they think it
is their world.
but i don’t care
whose name
is on their deed.
(their smoke is ours)
il mio villaggio by Frank J. Tassone
Montebello
a maple-lined street leading
to the mountains
I still listen for echoes
of our children playing
I Write Her 