poetry

Hang a Light on The Moon

full moon
Photo by samer daboul on Pexels.com

I just published Hang a Light on The Moon on Medium. Have a look 🙂

Hang a Light on the Moon

Keeping a close watch
eyes glazed from lacking true sleep
it’s the thing he does
watching each breath in and out
praising every moment

looking for the signs
wondering what happens next
never coasting hope
as the moon shines like a friend
shining to appeal his thoughts

appealing powers
please hang a light on the moon
giving energy
to the souls entwined here now
who knows when they will release

one thing is certain
moonlight is always shining
even if not seen
if the clouds should hide the view
knowledge is the assurance

illumination
backdrops shadows ’til the dawn
knowing soothing dreams
ever comforting slumber
souls hope for another day

when days turn to end
and forever rests come forth
comfort will be there
the soul no longer bottled
broken free for true release

This is in response to the Six Sentence Story Prompt “Coast”

and

The Living Poetry Monday Prompt – Bottleneck

 

Short Fiction

Blue Blanket

several yarn balls
Photo by Rijan Hamidovic on Pexels.com

Blue Blanket
Red-rimmed eyes, tear-streaked cheeks, cotton mouthed, she sat on her sofa, in her spot, as she snapped open the plastic container. A familiar fragrance teased her nostrils as she gasped and then allowed the scent to overtake her senses. Staring at the blanket through blurred vision, it was soft country blue colored, with fringed edges. Knowing this blanket was her sister’s favorite, she needed to keep this treasure.

Cozying in to the familiar soft comfort of her spot on the sofa, she gathered her yarn and hook. Excitement tickled her soul as she pondered the joy her sister would feel when she saw and touched her new blanket. While it was not her taste, her sister loved blues and mauves. Selecting the soft toned, country blue was easy. This would be a gift for her sister’s 21st birthday and she wanted to give something to her sister to treasure all of her life. As was her habit, she pondered positive thoughts as she hooked the yarn. Believing that keeping good thoughts would only make for many good things, she was certain that this blanket would bring much comfort and joy.

Holding the well-loved blanket to her face, breathing in the scent, closing her eyes, memories flooded her. Feeling the softness as she grazed the blanket with her fingertips, she came across a raised, rough patch. Looking closely, there was a stain, much in the shade of red, as in nail polish. This would have been from her niece. She loved the blanket and was likely wrapped in it while she painted her nails.

Working each row, creating the design, allowing for both durability and beauty, she counted and watched as the blanket unfolded into a work of art. Her old cat would keep her lap extra warm as he crawled underneath the workings. He was old and not so likely to bat the yarn as he did in his younger years. A bit of him would go along with the blanket, as it would be very difficult to pick out his golden fur.

Even after all these years, there were gold flecks in the blanket. Oh Kitty, she thought, you now can rest with my sister and her other pet children. Tell her to keep a warm spot for me, one day. She stroked the gold and closed her eyes, remembering the comfort he brought to her in all of his days. Dozing to a nappy sleep, she woke to nothing more or less than the changes of life. And peace. Peace in knowing that those before have no more pain and peace in knowing that those left behind can best bring comfort to each other. It’s the circle.

poetry

Ripping the Soul

crash foam ocean rocks
Photo by Ricardo Esquivel on Pexels.com

Ripping the Soul

ripping apart the nucleus of love
tearing at the riptide of shame
pressing into the soul
oozing from the pain
seeping into the decaying brain
cells are left with no release
but to grow less and fester more
such is the diseased brain
such is the life with loss
there’s shame where there should not be shame
there’s blame where there should not be blame
there’s hate where there should not be hate
so much else dies with the loss
so much else goes with the pain of decay
so much leaves
so much goes away
never to come back
taking the time to release these pains
taking the time to allow healing
taking the time to promote growth
renews the soul