Inspired by What do you see #293
quantifying time
experiences fill our days
life rushes us faster
our captured moments
take us back and slow us down
memories relived
Tag: memories
In Between Moments
Inspired by Moonwashed Weekly Prompt – Bittersweet &
Reena’s Xploration Challenge #362
i hesitate to recall the good
when the bad lurks nearby
it’s bittersweet to have memories
Carol Anne
Eileen
Eileen, my guide
Through the depths of my mind’s maze
With wisdom and care
You help me find my true self
In your presence, I find peace
Sunrise
Golden rays emerge,
Painting the sky with colors,
New day, hope awakes.
Nitro
Lost in memories,
Nitro’s pawprints on my heart,
Forever cherished.
The Morning Sky
Golden rays emerge,
Painting the sky with colors,
Morning’s gentle kiss.
Birds sing their joyful chorus,
Nature awakes with new hope.
Feeling Blue
In shadows I dwell,
Heart heavy with sorrow’s weight,
Hope’s light yet to swell.
~~~
Carol Anne (pen name) is a 40-something-year-old totally blind woman from Ireland. She is diagnosed with dissociative identity disorder and complex PTSD, and she enjoys reading, writing, and having fun. This is Carol Anne’s first feature with The Short of It.
If you’d like to be featured on The Short of It in the future,
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#TheShortofIt – Vol 1 The Sound of Brilliance and Vol 2 Reflections & Revelations on Amazon
Monica St Hillaire
TORMENTED
Boisterous ocean has one voice suppressed
Darkness encompasses dreary hollow
Podium destroyed where she once professed
Daisies wither with fallen leaves of grey
Synchronization of gloom will follow
Bewildered sun fights to save battered ray
No melody to fly in ascension
Grappled moment mere taste to not swallow
Plethora of scars too much to mention
Blurry moon forever shape of crescent
Gnarled road condemns maze one can borrow
Ruinous whirlwind wrecks past and present
Comfort dissipated by harsh wayside
Sadness dominion coercing wallow
In cheerful robin compelled to confide
Yearn for freedom as carefree apollo
Pensiveness always permit such sorrow
Boisterous ocean has one voice suppressed
Podium destroyed where she once professed
EVENING HOUR
caged bird chirps aloud
ember sunset fades away
warm red hibiscus
BYGONES
memory flashes
touch of worn kitchen table
tears begin to stream
AFTERGLOW
cherry tree dampness
streak of raindrop upon rock
distant croak echoes
LOST ANCHOR
Erroneous are my deepest thoughts,
Thinking forever and a day belongs to me.
Serendipity just a corner away,
And a brilliant moon will brighten the night sky,
In its exclusive fashion,
Because of my inner and undying love.
A desire that eagerly burns,
Within the walls of my soul.
Am I blinded by my memories?
Calculated scenarios that engulf my mind?
Carousel thoughts circulate inside my head.
I ponder occasionally,
Try to make stern sense.
If not anything else,
To know if I’m in an intricate realm,
Unaware to comprehend any distinction,
Between fact and fiction,
Between truth and falsity.
In the mouth of madness,
Winding road of uncertainty,
With chapters yet still unwritten
The journey continues…
~~~
Monica St Hillaire considers herself to be a “warrior of words.“ Writer of poetry and lover of free verse and haiku, she aspires to one day publish books of poems and short stories. Her first feature was in 2020. You can find her previous features HERE.
If you’d like to be featured on The Short of It in the future,
click here for the submission guidelines.
#TheShortofIt – Vol 1 The Sound of Brilliance and Vol 2 Reflections & Revelations on Amazon
Duane L Herrmann
Life Consequence
Our kindnesses that no one else knows of tell the true measure of ourselves. When no one else is looking, our true nature shines. So, what do you do when no one else will know? Do you rise to your most noble self? Or do you look out for number one? If the latter, you may have a later opportunity to improve; if not, you will carry that inability with you, a burden to drag you down. We never know what opportunities may await us to demonstrate our greatness. Failure is human; success – our best nature. We can try.
MEMORIES BE
Memories can change
be overlaid,
gain new meaning,
become
a friend they weren’t
before,
but effort,
progress,
must be made.
FINDING EARTH
We thought we
were going to the moon
but found the earth instead:
blue-white ball
suspended, alone, and single
in expanse of empty space:
one home
for one mankind,
we are one together.
ONE DOWN
Female sucks blood
eagerly,
hungrily,
for her children,
not looking
for her safety…
SPLAT!!!
One more
mosquito dead!
DINING IN
Sitting here
waiting for food
is what we do.
I’ve strung my lines,
food will come.
I’m energetic,
but now wait
for flyer
to be tangled.
LITTLE BODY
The body of a little boy,
just two years old,
washed up on shore,
his family fleeing
war and drought,
denied refuge.
What a relief,
ignorant sighed
thinking a terrorist dead.
~~~
Herrmann has published a sci-fi novel, nine poetry books, history, short stories, and more. He has carried kittens in his mouth, pet snakes, and conversed with owls, careful not to anger them! All despite a traumatic, abusive childhood, dyslexia, ADHD, cyclothymia, a form of Mutism, anxiety disorder, and PTSD. Herrman was first featured in 2020 and then again in 2022. This is his second feature this year. You can find all his work published on The Short of It HERE.
If you’d like to be featured on The Short of It in the future,
click here for the submission guidelines.
#TheShortofIt – Vol 1 The Sound of Brilliance and Vol 2 Reflections & Revelations on Amazon
G.A. Neal
Afterglow
Her beauty was stunning. You didn’t notice her metal crutches as she danced. They were part of her, hiding behind the wispy flows of her costume. The fact that she could do the intricate moves with only one leg was astonishing. Upon completing her dance, the audience gave a heartfelt standing ovation.
Backstage, her director and best friend fiercely hugged her. “See, I told you you could do this. You were magnificent.”
“It felt good to be back out there.”
“You are welcome to come back anytime. The stage loves you, and I think you love it as well.”
“No, I think I will go in a different direction. I was asked to come teach other handicapped students.”
“Wow, that would be marvelous. Showing others the beauty that can still be made by each of them regardless of their injury.”
“Yeah, that’s where I’m needed.”
Anger Cycle
Anger that breeds regardless
Makes chances of change hopeless
With hope taken out of the equation
Life leans more toward abrasion
With abrasion, there is more tension
Any thought of love…no mention
Life without love is meaningless
Making anger breed regardless
Smiling
Joys of smiling come from things we love
The smell of flowers or the warm sun above
Maybe it’s the squeal of a child with a toy
Or snuggling a puppy that brings us that joy
Regardless of what it is for each individual one
It’s a practice we continue for love or for fun
For a smile with others also makes them smile
Helping us carry life’s joys for a good long while
Our Dream
Mark stared at the embers, still smoldering. “It’s all gone.”
“Not really,” said Samantha, “we will start over.”
Mark looked out across the hill down into the valley. Everything was burned beyond understanding. The wildfire got caught in the storm, sending it ravenously along, eating everything in its path.
“I don’t see how,” he said. “Maybe we should go home.”
“No. We will rebuild. It will be hard, but we can do it. The house was spared. This was our dream.”
Mark stood looking at the charred vineyard, feeling hopeless. “Our dream gone,” he thought.
“Come,” beckoned Samantha as she bent down to the vines closest to her. Taking a small pocket knife, she cut off one of the charred vines. “See, the vine is not dead. We lost this year’s new growth, but the main stalk is still green.”
“Rebuild, really?”
“Yes, this was our dream.”
Memories
Sleepless night…fearful thought
What will be the outcome brought
Day of fun, no need for a gun
Scattering many from this deed done
What purpose comes of thoughts this bad
For deeds so dark and outcomes so sad
Engulfed forever of what was to be fun
Are memories now of deeds that were done
~~~
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. This is her second feature this year.
If you’d like to be featured on The Short of It in the future,
click here for the submission guidelines.
#TheShortofIt – Vol 1 The Sound of Brilliance and Vol 2 Reflections & Revelations on Amazon
Held Captive
Inspired by Sadje’s What do you see #191
the real of us
hidden behind the facades
of well-timed snaps
the real of us
captured unexpectedly
the gift of photographs
First Memory
I was tiny, maybe about two or three years old at most, carrying some plates to set on the table that Oma had given me. Her instructions were stern as usual, and I was scared to take them to the dining room. I walked real slow and carefully so as not to drop them.
It was my aunt’s apartment in Berlin, Germany, when it was still called “West Berlin.” It featured a large open living room and dining room. She and her husband’s veterinary practice was just beyond the double doors beside the dining area.
I remember my dress was a blue crushed velvet, with shiny buttons down the front. My white stockings are tucked into shiny black patent leather shoes with a strap across them. Even the details of the kitchen and all the other rooms are vivid in my mind. When my father was stationed in Berlin, I remember spending much time there when I was younger. It wasn’t always a happy place because my grandmother was strict. My mother and her sister also didn’t get along well; the tension was palpable.
Perhaps there are more memories yet to surface. It may explain why I’ve always felt like life didn’t start well.
Pfifferlinge
happy memories
unearthing chanterelle
healthy lunch eaten
Recently, a great memory came to the forefront of my mind. I was visiting my father for the summer in Germany where he was stationed. It was 1974, and I was not quite 12 years old yet. The neighbor’s kids became fast friends, and many hours were spent with them camping, hiking, and generally goofing off.
One morning, I went out to the forest with the father of one of my friends. We were on a mission to gather as many Pfifferlinge as possible. That is what the Germans called them, chanterelle is what I later found out they are called here.
If I recall correctly, we spent about three hours in the woods and brought back about two buckets full. This would be enough to feed the many people waiting for them back home.
I don’t know the exact recipe but I do know they were prepared in a pan with lots of butter and eggs. And they were delicious!! The texture and the taste are so different from the ones we so frequently eat here – canned or fresh.
Shame we don’t have any forests around here. I do believe I would try mushroom hunting again. :)
A Little Help From My Friend
Redux
Ghosts of the past linger in the chambers of my memory.
Like the heavy feel of lanolin staining memories a smudged yellow.
An intervening moment of serendipity removes the hold of bygone days.
Again, my simpatico relationship meaningfully ties me to my abundant present.
*I was given these bolded/highlighted four words during a visit with my bestie. Thank you for the inspiration, Terry!
Originally published 8/15/2018 on I Write Her.
I Write Her 