Anita Neal


The mountain quenched its mighty thirst as minuscule droplets of water tried to fall. Momentary satisfaction. Grass stretched their blades upward as they drank in every molecule of moisture, too many days with no rain. Vegetation across the globe was beginning to dry up.

The earth was off its original axis because of mankind.  He had robbed the globe of every natural resource creating an imbalance not only of natural occurrences but of man himself. He was imploding from the inside. Yet he continued to create one disaster after another, trying to correct errors from the past. Too much damage had been done.

Jason turned over in his sleep, waking with a start. The room was cool but sunshine came through the windows. He went to the window to see the lush green foliage outside his window. A dream, that’s all it was…or was it.

My Toes

It’s a cold day in May that has come our way,
And I can’t seem to get my toes warm
My coat is all snug, my hat fits like a glove
But I also want my toes warm
I’m inside the door, I feel the cold floor
And I still can’t get my toes warm
I go to the fire, for it’s my greatest desire
To just feel my toes warm
I take off my shoes, my toes looking blue
And finally, I am getting my toes warm.

Will We Ever…

Will we ever be able to stand by one another in unity and peace?
It would be like fresh cool water from a spring being poured over our heads to cool the unrelenting heat of anger that we don’t even understand.

Will we ever be able to support one another in unity and peace?
It would be like adding a soothing ointment that softens the wounds of war and heals the ugly scars we cause on one another.

Will we ever be able to love one another in unity and peace?
It would be like the valleys of heaven descended down upon us to show us the beauty and kindness of life that we all were supposed to enjoy.

Will we ever be able?


We all have a purpose, we who live this life
We try to understand it, hopefully with no strife

We come in many shapes, some round and some tall
 Man, beast and plant are here to be loved by all

If a purpose isn’t love, sad that purpose be
For it is through love, our beauty is to be

The Fragrance of Spring 

After a long winter’s nap and the trees begin to bloom
Senses begin to awaken from the cold winter’s doom
The eyes see beauty first as it breaks forth in bloom
Some filling the branches with barely enough room

But noses of all creatures are lifted to smell the air
The fragrance of spring, something we all want to share
The trees bloom first with apple, cherry, and pear
Shrubs like the lilac have fragrance beyond compare

The lilacs and their fragrance will draw you in close
To some it’s a delight and to others it smells gross
But to bees and butterflies, it’s as sweet as any prose
Visitors to the garden, there are none that will oppose

Air to Breathe

There is a small crack to the side from which I can draw fresh air.
It’s refreshing and brings about hope, hope that soon this will be over.
There is a stillness now, the energy has abated, and…it is quiet.
Is he gone? Is he done? Am I safe?
I can now move. I pull the pillow from my face, breathing a huge gulp of air.
I get out of bed, my hopeful needed nap, now a nightmare
My shirt is stuck to me from my sweat, I am trembling
I quietly leave the room and go into the kitchen, water, I need water
I look out the window and catch the glimpse of his red truck
He is barreling down the street. I am safe for now.
Will there be a next time, will I survive it?
Maybe it’s time I should leave….


Anita Neal is a writer who loves to write from the heart. While two poems are playful about the seasons, the others are reminders of where man could be going if not careful. We are given a “Purpose” for this life and we must be mindful of the Creator’s purpose. See other examples of her work at She was featured on The Short of It in 2020 and her work was published in the anthology – The Sound of Brilliance. Anita’s piece – “A Monarch Task”, featured in the first anthology – was selected for the Pushcart Prize.


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The Injured Party

The tiny slivers of glass made me blink furiously, the blood flowing freely. It’s scary dealing with this alone. As usual, Richard’s words cut just like the glass he threw at my face. He would probably paint my anxiousness as silly now. Maybe my eyes that he blinded would finally change him? Probably not.

Thankfully, I had the foresight to tape the events of tonight. In secret, of course; otherwise, I wouldn’t see the light of day for years.

I set up a meeting with the police to provide them with this sample of what I usually had to endure.

Inspired by The Sunday Whirl – Wordle #526

Reblog – Lingua by Candice Daquin

Hope you enjoy this piece by my friend Candice Daquin. I adore her! Her words are magnificent and her emotions exquisite! I fell in love with her writing about mid-2018, and have been following her ever since. She writes what’s in her heart every time.


If you saw everything in retrospect

What language would you hear?

Climbing through cumulus clouds

The color of death valley

Sand strewn prayers

Over scraped knees and heavy cello bow

You slapped me backhanded

I watched myself

Fall like water

Wet against the sound

It excited you to see

Blood on my lips

The outline of violence

Lacing time and roses with secrets

You look out at a stark dull day

Feel glad you have the assurance of what stands rigid behind closed doors

We wear bright smiles at parties

The golden couple, they admire our rehearsal

Like pedigree animals who mask their bad nature

I’d bite your hand

And he’d fill your throat with glass

The lowered sun casting a haze over

Our magnification

Teaching darkness to obscure the simmering

Hand pinching my thighs open, striking

Quiet match of fire beneath

I hold onto your dismissal

Like butterflies


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Carotid Wine


She’d had enough.

His end was near, didn’t know it though. He was clueless.

Her knuckles tightened around the elegantly shaped wine glass. Instinct and rage fueled the glass crashing into the side of the table. Only one crescent-shaped shard fell away.

It was the perfect edge to damage a pulsing artery.

She gracefully, furiously, lunged for the side of his throat. His vital organ cut wide-open. A rhythmic stream began pumping out, gushing blood down and out over his body. With stunned horror, he gripped his throat to stop the bleeding.

She watched, fascinated, as he was dying.

My Utopia


In my dreams, I see humankind…

with no discrimination.
treating all living with care and concern.
displaying no violence.
living reasonably and logically.
promoting peace.

In my dreams, is sadly the only place where I can find these qualities consistently.