At the Mirror: Out in the Cold

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Eli Kyoko and I began following each other this spring. I’m so pleased to share a poet of immense talent with anyone who hasn’t discovered MoonLit Pieces.

Out in the Cold

by Eli Kyoko

I wore your hat to protect my head
from the debris falling from our family tree
but the spilling blues and red,
lumps the purple on my skin
The invisible scars, the indelible tints
Throbs and thumps within
‘Cause father, when you left
I saw how mother went out in the cold
gasping for life, bereft
She wore my hug to warm her skin, to endure your sin
I caught the cerulean falling stars from her cheeks
and wished for …

 

(Continue Reading: Out in the Cold)

The Seamaid

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The Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction Rodeo turns to Twitter. I gave it a go…

The Challenge #5: #Twitterflash. In this challenge, you are tasked with writing a complete 99-word story using Twitter. The story can be on any topic and in any genre, as long as it is exactly 99 words. Easy peasy, right? Not so fast…
-Every story must be made up of 11 sentences of exactly 9 words each.
-Each individual sentence should be tweeted, one at a time, for a total of 11 tweets
-Individual sentences are tweet-worthy and contribute to the story as a whole in a meaningful way.

The Seamaid

A mermaid’s sequined tail lures me to the sea
Gulls shrill a warning, I’m headed to a drowning
Lulled by a siren’s song, footprints forsake the sand
Wash away my castles when love sings me home
She is my nixie, nymph of an airless death
Bare toes sink, swallowed by the sea’s lapping tongue
Fingers caress my ankles, beckoning me farther from shore
Entangled am I in floating whorls of unbound hair
Her silver arms are the surge embracing my surrender
A life forlorn abandoned for her wild blue beauty
Yielding to the tides, breathless in my seamaid’s kiss

***

To read D. Avery’s winning Twitterflash, click here: Carrot Ranch

At the Mirror: Route 91, A Festival

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I’m switching around the blog schedule for NaNoWriMo, which I’m unofficially participating in this month. My goal is 80,000 words. Uh huh. I’m a nut. My muses are out drinking ale at the fire pit while they scheme about how to make this happen.

Anyway, my  “Sunday Blog Share” of the past will still be my every third post, but it will be on random days. So I’m renaming it “At the Mirror.” The Mirror is a reflective lake in one of my books, and when someone looks into its waters, they see the true beauty of their souls. The blog posts that I share are beautiful to me. They evoke emotion… sometimes joy, sometimes tears, longing, memories, or plain old awe.

Today’s post is by Diana from A Holistic Journey. The format didn’t allow me to post the beginning here. So… all you get is the link… ❤

Source: Route 91, A Festival

October

My backyard

I wrote this poem during my first fall in Oregon. It was inspired by the 10-mile drive from town to my home along Highway 47, one of many roads here that takes my breath away.

October

If I drive off the road of life
know I was distracted by the wilderness
gazing for a moment at gilded leaves
arched against jagged boughs of evergreen.
 
Perhaps I beheld a quilted river
of fallen crimson and vermillion
winding along the roadside
vine maples blazing in random rays of sun.
 
Had I gazed into the weave and texture of leaves
layers interlaced, sharp and dense against the sky?
Or the rain glistening, black branches of the forest bending
silhouetted by canopies of countless green.
 
Did I glimpse dry fields of weeds,
browning blades and flyaway seeds
the river meandering, my roadside companion
a tapestry of quiet color before me?
 
If I soar off the road of life
and fail to rise
know that I drove distracted by the wilderness
and my eyes brimmed with beauty.

***

Just a note that Catling’s Bane is free today until the 29th.

Sunday Blog Share: Beyond the facade

A lovely poem by Kim about kindness and compassion and our ability to make a difference.

Beyond the facade

by Kimberly Laettner – Peace, Love and Patchouli

 

You must have been a beautiful baby

the song plays quietly in the background of my mind

I hum along and wonder,

well, aren’t they all when you think about it?

When it comes down to a heart beating

and the miracle of cells dividing

multiplying

creating something so unique,

and why is it only

babies that can be beautiful

for when we see the dirty unkempt homeless man

or the woman with the missing limb,

what changes in the mind to see…

(Continue Reading: Beyond the facade)

My Muse Almost Got Strangulated

Another muse makes her feelings known. This one from Balroop Singh of Emotional Shadows. Her muse is sensitive, emotional, words that characterize Balroop’s poetry and prose. Enjoy.

***

She has been wandering around too much, meeting strangers, expecting appreciation, gloating at her beauty and intellect as she reclined leisurely in the glorious sunshine, having abandoned the shadows recently.

Having emerged from her poetic alleys, she got bolder and her escapades with young adventurers almost throttled her as she refused to wear modest garments…some of which seemed incandescent to her new friends. They tried to impose their opinion on her, telling her not to push people away with her ‘excessive alliteration’ and ‘lengthy’ words, guiding her to be humble and simple.

It was too much for the one who has never been snubbed, who likes to boss around, considering herself to be a spontaneous charmer.

She came home disappointed and has been sulking.

Source: My Muse Almost Got Strangulated

Sunday Blog Share: Shaded Memories of Moonlight


A beautiful wistful poem I saved for months to share today.
Comments are closed, please click through and Enjoy.

Shaded Memories of Moonlight

by  J.C Watkins Peace 

Do you remember the room? I do,
Sitcoms would titter on the old television,
the three of us on my old springy bed,
only one of us was paying attention,
I had thoughts of you instead.
In these shaded memories of moonlight,
your skin was warm and soft,
paying no mind to the comedy,
as life’s tragic drama unfolded before me.
Our hands would touch and
separate; almost like they were dancing,
entities other than our own,
flirting for us, deliberately glancing.

Do you remember the house? I do,
big and old and cheap, but real.
An unused living room as we’d live,
we’d live our lives in bedrooms,
only leaving to corner one another,
in that kitchen with the broken window.
In these shaded memories of moonlight,
the dance would continue, to and fro,…

 

Source: Shaded Memories of Moonlight at Mistakes & Adventures