Renewed Resolve: A Micro-fiction Monday Post

17 months passed

since stepping

into dark confines

beyond cellar door

Vision adjusts

yielding truth:

empty barrels

stark reminder

of life once led

(140)

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Fairy Tale: A Flash Friday 55 Offering

Photo Credit

Once upon a yesteryear

I believed in fairy-tales…

Prince Charming came

to slay dragons

wakening, writhing,

dancing in tempo

to rhythmic beat

of troubled heart

pound, pound, pounding…

truth

drown, drown, drowning

‘neath blood spilt

through pierced flesh;

sword’s tainted tip

eventually exposing

Prince’s flaws

as well…

once upon a yesteryear

I believed in fairy-tales…

Saying Goodbye: A Saturday Centus Post

(Prompt is in GREEN)

deep within 

she knew

time was nearing

despite desperate denials

fearful, bitter truth

came through child’s cry

“Mommy, please stop!”

how hard she had tried:

countless times 

countless ways

a few days here 

a few weeks there

eventually succumbing

to his always appealing
seductive spell...

his charismatic charm

controlling encounters:

different places

different times

secretly meeting
hiding

even cheating with others…

never worked
always resulting in

guilt

remorse

shame

deep down she knew

he was toxic…

he could

and would

kill…

destroying her soul

and yet

saying goodbye

was harder than she thought

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Preying: A Flash Friday Offering

Photo belongs to coupekid.deviantart.com

black-wolf prowls

perimeter  

of conscious thought

as desire to

adopt him,

train him,

control him,

consumes

every thought,

every action,

stealing time away

from search for

long lost child.

blackbirds spy,

keeping guard,

watching,

waiting

for moment

when memories of

how powerful,

how cunning,

how baffling,

predator can be

fades...

meanwhile,

ever vigilant…

black-wolf prowls

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Today's FF55 is based upon a dream from last summer. For more 55's please click on the link below:

5th's Sunday Seven: January 22, 2012

One Sip

One sip

crosses line

sanity

changes

course

~~~

desire turns

craving burns

bridges

precariously

built

~~~

wanting off

crazy trip

journey

to

abyss

~~~

hands up

crying out

God

please

help!

~~~

cannot face

triggered plunge

deepest

darkest

depth

~~~

boundaries weaken

beaten down

bottom

finally

reached

~~~

sun shines

through broken

borders...

splintered

soul

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5th Sister's Sunday Seven is a simple themed writing exercise. 

The rules are quite simple if you wish to participate:

1.  Compose a poem, short story, micro fiction, photo montage, etc...that fits into the theme of 7. Examples include, 7 words, 7 syllables, 7 stanzas, 7 stanzas of 7 words, etc.  Use your imagination.

2.  Post a direct link to your blog post within the comments section using a hyperlink or the URL of your post. 

3. Visit at least one other blog who has taken the time to play!

I look forward to reading your contributions!

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Written in honor of a good friend struggling right now

 In addition to the Sunday Seven, this is also my contribution to today's dVerse Poetry Challenge.

Battlefield: A Flash Friday Offering

anxiety

declares war…

ego trips,

detonating

mines

planted within

emotions

clandestinely hidden

below

conscious thought…

sanity wounded,

embattled,

enslaved,

prisoner of war…

cunning enemy

masquerades

as gilded

bottles

bewildering 

captive victim

until courage,

strength,

empowerment,

found when,

out of desperation,

upon humbled knees

defeat's conceded

upon whispered prayers…

only then 

victory,

freedom 

come

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The Parrot Dream

Photo Courtesy of Hideaway Farms Aviary

wasting away

imprisoned within

was he

plumage once

brilliant now dull

quite grey

how could she

have forgotten

glorious he?

morning’s light glints

off metal lock of

rusting cage

she takes note

memories rushing

guilt coursing

trembling she

attempts to make

amends awkwardly

placing wet offering

quenching parched,

aching thirst 

thinking he need

be grateful to she

this act of kindness

Instead he greedily

sucks dry, to his fill, 

and beyond

Horrified, she bears

witness to this

self imploding

this exploding,

bursting from within,

feathers flying

she was either

too late, or

not yet ready

to face fears

locked away

later realizing

what you feed

will grow beyond

all proportion

serenity found

by turning the key...

addiction set free

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The above free form poem is from a recently recalled dream I had when I was in my 20's (and in the throes of an eating disorder). I dreamt of a formerly beautiful parrot, locked within a cage. I had forgotten and neglected this bird for far too long. He was terribly emaciated, molting, no food or water to be found anywhere near. I gently placed a bowl of water within its cage. The bird eagerly lapped it up, but it was too much, too soon. It didn't know when to stop and ended up destroying itself. I was horrified. 

Fast forward 25 years. One morning last week I was at the kitchen sink. Something in the backyard caught my eye. It was a parrot! A large bird with green plumage and a crimson head. It looked just like the parrot that was in my dream. Fearing that the bird was lost I went outside to see if I could catch him, but he flew away. I haven't seen him since. 

Do the two things (one a dream/one a real occurrence) have anything to do with each other? I believe so. I feel that my God is telling me that the caged bird is now free...I have nothing to fear, not even surfacing memories. I am no longer on the path to self destruction but rather I am on the right path. I am exactly where I am meant to be as I continue to "trudge the road" towards my happy destiny.

Sensational Haiku Wednesday: Anticipation

Ah…expectations

Give rise to disappointments

Acceptance is key

Haiku Wednesday is always a joy to participate in. This week’s theme was ANTICIPATION. I equate anticipation with expectations. When I EXPECT something, I am bound to get hurt, or upset that things don’t quite go the way I had envisioned. In my spiritual quest I have found to live in the reality of the here and now. To accept people and situations for whom and they are, not what I want them to be. It truly is freeing.

If you would like to view some silly expectations vs. reality images, please click here.

To participate or view other entries, please click on the link below.

Just Write: And so I Run

Just write.

That is just about the only rule of this writing exercise sponsored by Heather of The Extraordinary Ordinary. I adore Heather’s blog. Her honesty, open mindedness, and willingness to share her life, her struggles, her fears, her joys, and her view of the world. Her blog was an integral part of my being able to admit to myself things that I longed to shut the door on. She planted the seed. It just took me a little while to catch up. She truly is “extraordinary” and I will forever cherish her.

For a more detailed explanation of this exercise please visit here.

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And so I run.

I was born a sensitive soul into the chaos of the world around me. I felt things deeply, cried easily, and so I run...into hiding when comfort could not be found. There I bury the pain.

As I grew older the sense of being not quite like others began to take hold. Everyone knows, being different is a big NO-NO as a teen amongst one’s peers.  And so I run...towards those things that helped me forget myself, to feel good, and to feel a sense of belonging to the “crowd” that I so wanted to be a part of.

Graduation came. Chaos turned to crisis at the death of my younger brother. I couldn’t cope. I couldn’t stay home. And so I run...on a spur of the moment, poorly thought out decision to attend a different college that would take me to the big city.

These were the dark days. I got pretty good at being what others wanted me to be but at the expense of being true to my self. Those caged emotions, memories, heartaches, and hurts began rattling within their confines. And so I run...at the 1^st opportunity to remove myself, geographically, from what I assumed was the cause of my misery.

Ten years ago I began running. Literally. It was an on-again, off-again love affair. I reveled in the accolades that I received when I began to place in the races I ran. My ego and my pride grew. But there came a time, just a little over a year ago that I stopped running. Both figuratively and literally. I took those keys to the holding cell of all the pain and turmoil of my past and summoned the courage to turn the lock. So there I stood...fearlessly facing come what may (well, to be perfectly honest, there was tremendous, deeply rooted fear. I had no choice but to turn it over to God and be willing to receive His help).

It has been a wild, crazy, rollercoaster of a year but I wouldn’t change a thing. My running became metaphorical. And so I run...towards the freedom from self, selfish will, and towards service to others. And so I run...grabbing that hope, those promises, and the miracles that are coming true each and every day.

A couple of months ago, I put back on my jogging shoes and began to run physically, as well, after my self imposed hiatus. Some old behaviors began to insert themselves…I had to get faster, if I don’t how will I ever place in the upcoming race events I am attending. But God has a unique sense of humor. Because I was going after this for all the WRONG reasons (pride, ego, accolades) he decided to sideline me with a minor injury. I can still run, but now realize that I must do so with a different purpose: spiritual and physical health. I am using my runs as a private meditation time with my God. I am discovering that speed isn’t important anymore. It’s the journey, not the destination, that counts. And so I shall continue to run...to build the endurance necessary to travel God’s chosen path.  

And so I run. 

I Now Dream

I now dream

of magical things…

freedom to fly,

soaring to great heights

without wings…

standing my ground

against forces of evil

devoid of wand,

realizing true strength

comes from within…

being acutely aware

of mysterious power

effortlessly generating

life sustaining breaths

when submerged,

caught in currents

under depths

of ocean’s tides.

are these things

truly magical

or are they

seeds of the spirit,

planted, tilled

in soil of soul’s eden

as sun shines light

upon wreckage of past;

casting away shadows

of internal struggles

and lifelong fears,

of shame and

of self will run rampant:

decaying debris,

waste from years

of stinking thinking

becoming compost

for clarity, honesty,

open mindedness,

and willingness

to take root, 

sprout forth,

and grow,

harvested

in the mystical,

magical dreams

I now dream

Copyright 2011

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It's been one year, to the day, when I embarked upon a very special journey. Although it was promised (if I did the work), I remain in awe of the spiritual awakening that has become a part of my everyday life. I would like to thank my family and friends for their loving encouragement and support, but most importantly I pray prayers of thanksgiving to my God for it was His divine intervention and grace which led me upon this path. I am truly blessed. 

Sunflower Soul

sunflower soul

waxing weary

of false façade,

this make-believe mirth,

while woes are wending,

sorrow sweeping,

vainly through veins…

yes, sunflower souls

indeed have veins

as well as dreams,
desires rooted deeply
within prairie prayers

waiting, wanting, wishing

for courage to be she

sunflower soul swaying

towards son’s song

turning, tilting,

soaking strength

from heaven’s tears

spirit blooming,

bearing seeds of hope

Copyright 2011

Flash Friday 55: The Closet

first sanctuary,

retreat from chaos

raging daily…

hiding spot

from harmful ones…

seeking,

yet always found…

eventually filled

with meaningless possessions,

meaningful to her…

until day she returned

finding her treasures,

trinkets,

thrown away, cast aside…

harboring secrets,

concealing cache…

magic crimson elixir

no longer enchanting,

replaced by memories..

flashbacks demanding 

their stories be heard. 

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Sunday 160: Coming to Light

When the time drew near

a heavenly white light,

so bright, 

approached

Unfortunately,

it was unable to

retrieve the child’s soul

for he had built his wall too high

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The above is based on a recent dream

Monkey Man is host to Sunday 160: where one must write a story or poem in EXACTLY 160 characters (spaces included). Please visit his site to read other entries and complete rules.

Coming Home

By the time this is posted I will be flying home after a most important sojourn to the prairie. I spent time coming to terms with my past and taking ownership of my part. I gave myself the time to acknowledge old wounds, to let go of pain, and to finally grieve. Only by facing my issues and my fears head on am I able to finally release them. It's a matter of survival. My journey towards healing and spiritual growth continues. 


Today I am grateful for the support and encouragement of family and friends. I am truly blessed. 

I Heard the Cry of Mourning Dove

I was working on a "Flash Friday 55" for G-Man's meme. Unfortunately, I was unable to trim this any further to suit with his rules. So, instead, I present to you my "63 Words on Thursday". 

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I heard the cry of Mourning Dove

rousing me from dreams

chanting hymns from high above

singing just for me

I heard the cry of Mourning Dove

sorrowful the song

her dulcet tones were trilling of

loss, of pain, of wrongs

I heard the cry of Mourning Dove

weeping in the tree

tears of healing, hope, and love

from branches fell on me

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Sunday 160: Dream #5-The Journey Begins

Hopping aboard 

slow moving train 

journeying into past 

1^st stop: Highland House 

dropping off dirty laundry 

picking up key 

opening door 

to future 

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My contribution to this week's Sunday 160 for the Monkey Man, loosely based on a dream of mine. What can you say in exactly 160 characters?

Y is for Saying Yes

I’ve cried yes to childhood dreams

to hopes, desires, promises implied

only to capture, cage, stifle them

by burying deep inside

I’ve shouted yes to magic spells

enchantments invoked, conjured, cast

captivating, bewitching me;

part of wizarding man’s craft

I’ve whispered yes to forbidden fruit

harvested, fermented from vintner’s vine

a potion to numb my fears;

courage from bottled wine

Yearning to find a way out

of messes my yesses have wrought

gathering tools, weapons, skills

as internal battle is fought

I’ve learned the only yes that counts

is to Spirit, Father, and Son

for all that’s truly necessary

is Their will, not mine, be done

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I found "Y" to be particularly difficult this go round. I struggled to come up with enough words beginning with Y to make write a prose of any sense. So instead, I'm offering something a little different from my usual alliterative "alphabet style". I based a poem around one word. I'm not sure if it's successful or not, but it is what it is. Enjoy. 

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Alphabe-Thursday/Flash Friday Combo: J is for June Bugs

Prelude:

It felt just like

a cold January night

unaware the journey

was soon to begin.

For June bugs froze

in mid air flight

between sips of wine

and jiggers of daddy’s gin

~~~~~~~~~~

Jaded eyes now seeking,

piercing through the fog

over steamy cups

of jasmine tea.

Memories, though jaundiced,

have been jogged…

jostled and jolted

into reality

At this juncture,

praying hard not to fail

juggling, struggling,

with choice that's made                                                                               

to step off the jagged,

junk strewn trail

and into light

of the jewel toned glade

~~~~~~~~~~

Post-Script

The June bugs have found

their voice at last

warmed by embrace of a brand new day.

No fearing, no regretting

the remorseful past.

Simply finding joy in jubilant song.

It truly is better this way. 

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I will be working all weekend so may not be able to comment on all the wonderful Alphabet/Flash Friday entries. I shall return on Monday. Oh, and for the record, my Flash Friday 55 contribution are stanzas 2 and 3 of the poem above. 

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.