Hope Chest

childhood dreams, neatly folded, safely tucked away

wrapped within whitewashed sheets, cleansed with salty tears

by victim of perverted desires, to demons falling prey

childhood dreams, neatly folded, safely tucked away

locked away in sturdy chest, forgotten were those years

buried ‘neath emptied bottles of Zin and Chardonnay


childhood dreams, neatly folded, safely tucked away

awaiting realization after facing all those fears

time capsule to be opened in light of present day 

childhood dreams, neatly folded, safely tucked away

wrapped within whitewashed sheets, cleansed with salty tears 

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Copyright 2015

16

marching band,

cruising streets,

sneaking smokes

‘neath stadium-seats

first-time love,

heart’s defeat,

death awoke,

brother sleeps

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Ms. Jenny is a sly one. Today's writing exercise was to use 16 words about being 16. I took artistic liberty and threw in a memory from when I was 19 as it was a significant event in our lives, and remains a tender spot to this day.  

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Don't forget to enter my Holiday Giveaway!

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A is for Avenue

The Avenue

White clapboard house, nightlight burning: 

elder couple stockpiling canned goods 

for impending wars, real or imagined, 

disappearing behind drawn curtains, hiding from hope

Brick bungalow, green tiled roof 

ghostly visitations, nightly apparitions 

appearing in twisted dreams of tormented child 

when Ouija board is played

Single story house, yard of dirt

filled muddied toddlers, urine soaked diapers

young mother earning wages

providing day care by television

Brick house, occupied by “Born Again” fanatics 

preaching “Good News” to all passers by... 

children know different, seeing Devilish signs

in dark marks upon the young one’s flesh 

Three story green house, full of secrets

where big dogs roam and shit throughout

yard too small, family too big, ignoring crap 

what is not seen, or discussed, is simply not there

Yellow house with stone porch

Grandpa enjoys walking around in underwear

calling out to children at play to come play games 

while Grandma’s away (shhhh, don't tell)

Red house, large back yard with climbing tree

Little old ladies, within, caring for the neighborhood

providing pink candies and respite

for those hiding from demons

Beige house, a porch swing to share

while the wise witch whispers gently

healing spells of love and kindness

for lost little girl visiting daily

Copyright 2011-all rights reserved

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Saturday Centus: You Are My Munchie-Boy

Mama rocks her babe gently
during their nightly ritual.

While nursing

the little duck plays

“You Are My Sunshine”.

Mama softly sings to her son:

You are my Munchie-Boy

my only Munchie-Boy

You are Mommy’s pride and joy,

Mommy loves you,

this is so true,

for you are my Munchie-Boy!

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Darn that Ms. Jenny...she only gave us an additional 50 words this week, plus the prompt (above in green). I guess we have a half Centus today. She was kind enough, however, to throw us a bone with the permission to use a photo with our story.

I'm only pretending to complain. Honestly, I must truly thank dear Ms. Jenny. Her prompt brought back sweet memories of my nighttime ritual with my baby boy. I would sing to him the above song as I rocked him gently to sleep. Even when he became old enough to put himself to bed, I would still sing this for him as I tucked him in. But that was long ago. Maybe if I ask him nicely, he'll let me sing to him once more.

Sunday 160: Dream #2 - Keeping Secrets

fearing her secrets would soon be discovered

she worked diligently to hide bottles of wine

and private mementos from her past

along the roller coaster’s wild path 

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I'm participating in Monkey Man's weekly meme 

where the point is to write a piece

in exactly 160 characters (spaces included) 

I am finding this is the perfect platform 

to share bits and snippets of my dreams

as I walk my life's journey.  

Alphabe-Thursday-Flash Friday 55: R is for Rebirth

Reflecting,

remembrances 

slowly revealed

Rough, 

ragged,

rancorous,

filled with rage

Reaching back further…

recalling those 

long repressed

Without remorse,

resistance,

or urge to run,

memories are resurrected

Whether real or revised

doesn’t matter, 

really,

for the resentments 

reign,

restrain,

hold me ransom

Relief…

not through retaliation,

but through resolve:

recognizing,

releasing,

refusing

bondage’s grip

Rebirth

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Sunday 160: Kansas Dreaming

Fluffy tufts of cottonwood trees

on gentle breezes flew

joins soft scent of prairie grass

wet with morning dew

add memory of meadowlark’s song

is when I dream of you

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Kansas has been on my mind of late. It is where I grew up. I often long for those days long past. The simple beauty of the prairie tugs at my heartstrings. The strength of its people give me hope. However, my memories will always remain with me. 

ad astra per aspera

To the stars with difficulty

This motto refers not only to the pioneering spirit of the early settlers, but also the difficult times Kansas went through before becoming a state. I embrace this motto for myself. For if it were not for those "difficult" times, I would not be who I am today. I am a Kansas girl, through and through.

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I frequently participate in Monkey Man's Sunday 160 where the only rule is to write a short story or poem in 160 characters total. It is a fun challenge and really stretches the mind of a would be writer. To read other entries or to participate, please go to his site. 

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All images above came from Google Images. 

Saturday Centus: Retrospection

I am joining Jenny Matlock's Saturday Centus. Each week we are given a prompt, a phrase in which to design a story or poem around. We are limited to 100 words, not counting the prompt. This week's prompt is “Objects in the rear view mirror are closer than they appear”. You are allowed to use the prompt anywhere within your writing, but it must be used "whole", not split up.

RETROSPECTION

He sat in the passenger seat of life ruminating about his present circumstance. He thought this was what he wanted but now he wasn’t so sure. 

Memories, carefully buried long ago and thought to be forgotten, were now making themselves known; memories that may hold the answer to the puzzle of why he chose this particular path.

He had not wanted to ever remember. However, years of running from his past, drowning his sorrows, and drugging the pain no longer worked. He was out of tricks.

With new-found determination he opens the window to his past. “Objects in the rear view mirror are closer than they appear”. Ain’t that the truth.

Alphabe-Thursday: The Letter P

The Path

Preoccupied with Pain

Poetically Portrayed...

She Patiently Processed

Its Potent Possessive Power
Penetrating the Psyche.

A Perplexing Predicament to Ponder.

Will she fall, as Passive Prey,
to Predatory Patriarchal Patterns of the Past?

Or in Protest

Will she be Prompted to Probe

A Purposeful Path:

One of Prayer, Praising, Peace?

Paradise.

Alphabe-Thursday and Flash Friday 55 Combo!

The Letter M is for Memories


Muddling through life..


a Myriad of Memories lurking
...in Murky subconscious depths.


Momentarily concealed...
but leaving their Musky trail within the Matrix of My Mind.


...Mysterious, Malignant, Meaningful.


Messy Memories...


Masquerading as Madness
beneath Masks of Melancholy, Manipulation and Mistrust.


"Must I Master these?" I find Myself Musing.
"Depends upon the Motivation," Memories Mutter back.

Flash Friday 55: Memories

The neatly wrapped packages, 

where her memories are stored, 

are begging to be noticed, to be heard.

They were boxed up; locked away so very long ago.

It is time and she's afraid.

She does not recall where she buried the keys. 

But the memories...impatient, persistent, insistent... 

tear their way through carefully tied bows.

I am participating in this meme hosted by G-Man over at Mr. Know It All. Have a peek and check out all of the other entries. There are some terrific writers out there. You won't be disappointed. 

Monday Musings-January 25, 2010

Today is the 29th anniversary of my brother's death, by accidental drowning at the age of 18. I would like to take a moment to remember the crazy kid he was. 


Mark loved life and lived it to the fullest, despite being diagnosed with a seizure disorder his freshman year in high school. He ran on the cross country team, drove a Suburu Brat, and adored his brand new niece, Laura Beth. He was a friend to all animals. He endured going fishing with his father and secretly disliked hunting (shhhh...don't tell Dad).  His favorite flower was the yellow rose. His favorite music artist was a toss up between Ted Nugent and AC/DC. He had tons of casual friends but a few very close ones. He enjoyed the occasional clandestine beer. He was both silly and bright. My Munchie Boy reminds me very much of him. 


Yes, we were very close in age (15 months) and fought like cats and dogs growing up. But we loved each other very much. We always had each other's back. I will always remember the time he stood up to the school bully on my behalf, such a tough little guy he was.  I still miss you, Mark, but the memories of your infectious smile, your love and your giving nature are the patches to the hole in my heart. May God continue to bless your soul. 


For a previous post on Mark, please visit this link.