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Lament for Ruth

A tribute from my friend’s heart.

JeanMarie's avatarWords from JeanMarie

“My most fervent wish is that I will not be replaced
until a new president is installed.” Ruth Bader Ginsberg, 2020

This Breaking News has broken
my heart, my hope.

Justice, my grief is suspended in fear.

What is to become of the poor, the abused, and the desperate
with overburdened wombs?

What is to become of the immigrants and the asylum seekers
caught in wire nets?

Who will ensure our POC, our LGBT, and non-binary
won’t be erased?

Justice, my grief is suspended in guilt.

With every Breaking News story of recovery
against all odds, I breathed a sigh of relief.

Your slight frame and bowed head
belied your strength and resilience.

Did our selfish prayers for your health and longevity
tie you to this mortal coil beyond your endurance?

Justice, my grief is mine to bear, not yours.
Go now to your final rest, in peace.

Notorious RBG…

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Farewell Justice

He said it well.

Bartholomew Barker's avatarBartholomew Barker, Poet

Farewell Justice

You fought with words and logic—
powerful weapons for justice
in reasonable times
but it’s easier to manipulate
some folks by advertising fear.

You struggled for so long
and now to honor your memory,
we must continue the battle,
to march in the streets,
to cast our ballots,
to assure your legacy is not erased.

You weren’t in the majority on the court—
but you represented all of us,
We the People.

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Marjorie Maddox

Take some moments and read this poet’s words.

Susi Bocks's avatarI Write Her

Duo of Dusk and Past

Always
the high notes crack
at the edge of sunset,
then slide past horizon into
never.

Never
into then. Past horizons slide
toward sunset. At the edge,
cracks sound high notes
always.

All Souls’ Day, 2018

Even now, awash in the world’s weeping,
Joyce, Richard, Rose,
they do not rise, but float,
bloated reminders of hope
Jerry, Cecil, David, drowned, drowning,
tense too often a matter of attention
to soul or soul-
full of what we’ve lost,
Bernice, Simon, Daniel,
the memory and the chanting
twinned tightly to whatever
belief we sing, whatever
Melvin, Irving, bodies we cradle
in the dark grave of corruptibility.
O slain cousins of ancient faith,
pray this day for us.

Not-so-hostile Takeover

All red-hot July,
yellow bobs
in a sea of green
until a blue breeze
and gray time
finally take aim,
fire a whiff of wind
across wispy…

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Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt!

We have a great team here on Six Sentence Stories, thanks to Denise’s prompts and support plus the way we support each other. Why not join in the fun! #prompt #writerscommunity #stories #poetry

GirlieOnTheEdge's avatarGirlieOnTheEdge's Blog

Welcome to GirlieOnTheEdge and Sunday’s prompt word reveal for Six Sentence Stories! I’ll admit (hold your collective gasps of incredulity, lol) I’ve not read any works by Ernest Hemingway. Having said that, I quite like the quote attributed to him posted below. And I daresay, there have been times I’ve felt as if I’ve run out of charges. However! There is this weekly blog hop, Six Sentence Stories. A writing challenge of which I’m most appreciative, Six Sentence Stories allows us to (if necessary) be tricked into thinking, “it’s only 6 sentences”, I can do this!”. What happens after we accept this challenge is a most beneficial experience. We’ve written words that otherwise may not have been written which equates to characters not given life, adventures not lived, mysteries not solved, joys not shared. So what do you think? Up for the challenge?…

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Gravity’s magic. It’s a 6.

This is what I call writing from the soul. Great post, my friend. Add the video and you never disappoint. Have a read, why doncha?

GirlieOnTheEdge's avatarGirlieOnTheEdge's Blog

Walkin’ Billy had no friends, born and bred a bastard’s child, his a heart grown wild.
Town after town, moving like a mountain river, currents never ceased – gravity’s pull kept him searching for the peace.

It left the day Momma died leaving him on his own, man-boy on the move to wonder what was the meaning of life alone.
Day followed day, year followed same, inevitable he grew weary of wallowing in the pain.

Settled in a small town instinct led him to, the voice inside his head it echoed “it’s all up to you”.
Heart beating strong in spite of life’s ironic twist, having searched four corners of the earth, Walkin’ Billy found himself returned to his place of birth.

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