credit: 8tracks.com
One last sleep before my journey
We lie with just a sheet
and the whir of the fan
lulling us to dreamland
Our bodies take turns finding ways
to stay tangled, twined and touched
Fingers, legs, torsos, arms
tug, pull, envelop, whisper, graze
Nearness, breath, a sigh
until morning’s deep solitude awakens us
attempting to shed night’s imprinted stirrings
Photo credit: wermsgarden.com
The sun makes one last valiant effort to shine through the mist, and for a few seconds, everything steams, yellow and gray. Then the rain sweeps in and everything is gone.
A trip back in time when this month’s beginning was her world’s ending
Bracing for the inevitable
As the storm’s clouds raged in the distance
And when it came, her body crumpled in defeat
Nights sleepless, Days motionless, Tears endless
Rifling through papers
Reading
The Destruction
The Anger
The Deceit
She
Collects
Gathers
Tosses
Burns
Returns them to the Earth
Dissipating Disintegrating Disappearing
Extinguished and Extinct
This week’s prompt from Kellie invited us to take the last few lines of a memorable book or poem and create a story or poem based on it. This quote is from the last two lines of “Those Who Save US” by Jenna Blum (her first novel- I highly recommend reading it).
August is not a favorite month of mine and I have been thinking of ways to write about some jumbled up feelings that this month represents for me. Kellie’s Karmic Connection has helped me sort them out a bit!
Hello my friends- Once again, I would like to thank Colline at Colline’s Blog (http://collinesblog.wordpress.com/) for nominating me for another WordPress Award!
This award acknowledges the bloggers who have had an impact on a blogger’s WordPress blogging experience.
When I started blogging a year ago this month, I had no idea where this creative journey would take me. I knew that I was committed to the process and writing personal essays was certainly something that came easily to me. I wrote weekly and was satisfied that I had a tiny following. Then one Friday in March, I realized that I wasn’t sure of what my Sunday post would be about. So there I was poking around on WordPress when I came across Kellie Elmore’s Free Write Friday prompt! Because of Kellie’s large audience, I received new followers and great feedback as well for my piece.
The rest is the present. There is no doubt in my mind that Kellie ( Kellie Elmore) was the tipping point for my blog’s growth. Kellie is a solid supporter of my writing and it is through her weekly prompts that I have developed my writer’s voice. She is an amazing woman and writer with a heart of gold. Because of her, the following people have been the keeper’s of my flame:
Charlene @ Brighterdays Blog
Maria @ xxculture
Neens @ awritersfountain
Colline @ Colline’s Blog
These women possess their own creative talents and they consistently support my writing. I cannot thank them enough. They keep me motivated and inspired.
I know there are more of you out there! So I send my heart felt thanks to you as well for your support! 🙂 🙂
Credit: Tumblr
Peck. Peck. Peck. Poke. Poke. Poke. She could hardly move. The midday heat was burning her up. Lola had fallen asleep in a cornfield the night before. The cool air had lulled her into a deep sleep and she missed the sunrise.The chance to get a head start. Her two day journey to freedom was testing her endurance. Lola needed to get information to the Renewal Party about the enemy. And here she lay-prone-arms out, palms up in an offering. Peck. Peck. Peck. Poke. Poke. Poke. She opened one eye and then the other. The sun was blinding, making it difficult to see what the annoyance was. Something was tapping at both her hands. Lola tried to lift her head a bit. Even opening her mouth was impossible; it was dried shut. She began to wiggle her fingers and toes. Peck. Peck. Peck. Poke. Poke. Poke. It was getting worse. Her ears perked up at the sound of a swoosh landing at the left side of her body. Another swoosh on the right. Then the sound and pain of flesh being torn from her skin. Lola tried to scream but all that emerged was a raspy whisper in her throat. Rip. Peck. Poke. She rolled over into a fetal position still unsure as to the source of her pain and anguish. She rose on all fours and began to crawl out of the field. In her blurred vision she could see a forested patch. Then SWOOSH, SWOOSH once more. Turkey vultures! More were coming in for the kill. Except she wasn’t dead. Yet. They were poking and tearing at her back as she was slowly crawling out of the maze. Gaining strength, she began to lift herself into a crouch. And just when Lola was nearly back on two feet, she felt the icy end of the rifle in the center of her forehead. “Git yourself all the way up, woman. You ain’t goin nowhere.”
Once again, our dear Ms. Kellie Elmore presents us with a challenging and imaginative prompt for this week!
#FWF Free Write Friday: Time & Place Scenario |
It’s high noon. Sun blazing. You awake in a field and birds are pecking
your skin… GO!
photo credit: www.atmos.washington.edu
Her earthy sensuality drew him to her like a magnet. He had not wanted to attend the art show opening but Joe had insisted he give it a try. Karen’s good friend, Ella, was showing her paintings and sculptures at a local but well-known gallery that night. Joe wanted another guy to join him. He knew that Tom, his long-time friend since childhood, would not let him down.
He was surprised by the emotions her work evoked in him. The images varied; landscapes, abstracts, etc. But it was the ones that displayed human relationships that grabbed his heart. He found himself not able to stand, so he took a seat by a window bench. From this vantage point he was able to observe the easy way she worked the room. She had a peaceful charisma about her and laughed easily. To Tom, she was the piece de resistance- a woman who possessed both an inner and outer beauty. Her auburn hair flowed onto her shoulders, her green eyes glimmered, her skin was neither porcelain nor olive toned. It exuded warmth- a place where he could softly land.
She found him there after the show was done. “You look a bit out of your element,” she said.
“I want to buy one of your pieces,” he replied.
They had been inseparable ever since. Her calming self-assured nature provided him with a sense of peace that he had never known. Together they created a life filled with children and solid friendships.
She still painted and sculpted in between raising the kids and creating a home. She had become active in the valley’s art community and it was there that she met the president of a nearby art college. He was impressed by her work and her leadership as well as her promotion of the arts at the local level. He offered her a teaching position at the school and also wanted to commission her work.
As a result of this offer, Ella wanted to expand her studio space to the room above the garage. She had even gone as far as accepting a few bids for the job. Moreover, she had quickly said yes to the position. All three kids were in school full time and her schedule would easily fit in with theirs.
Tom completely supported her executive decision. His relief at not being caught helped make it easy for him. Summer ended. Fall began. Work buzzed along smoothly. The studio went up quickly. When he had to work late, he would often find her there lost in her work. Many nights they made love on the floor amidst the spilled colors and clumps of clay. Her lips always offering words of love. Her hips like pearls of water. Her skin once again giving him a soft place to land.
photo credit: www.searchlightphotography.com
A searing bile rose up in his throat. He ran to the bathroom and heaved noisily. His mind began to race. How could she have found out? He thought that he covered his tracks. His world was about to implode.
Maybe Joe would have a clue. He inhaled deeply as he pressed the contact number on his phone. “Tom, buddy! How’s it going out there?” Joe answered in his usual hearty voice. “Karen and the kids and I thrilled that Ella and your brood will be coming down. And we are so excited to hear about Ella’s job offer and her ideas for the studio!”
Tom quickly shifted gears. He explained that Ella’s good news was the reason for his call. Without missing a beat, Tom told Joe that he was planning to catch the next flight home and surprise everyone down at the beach. He would probably be there tomorrow. Joe promised to keep it to himself.
With that decision, he bought himself some time. He took a long hot shower and scrubbed himself until his skin felt raw. Last night’s shenanigans, his abbreviated sleep on the sand, the strange journey back to the motel and his recent emotional state had left him drained. He crawled to bed and fell into a deep sleep.
When he woke up the next morning, he was ready to go. He had enough clean clothes since he only had worn his cycling outfit for the past 48 hours. If his wife asked about the bike, he would just say that he stopped off at the office to get it after he landed.
He pulled into Joe and Karen’s place bursting with confidence. And there they were: his beautiful family: The boys with their jet black hair and his daughter an exact replica of her mother. Flowing auburn hair and those deep green eyes that you just lost yourself in.
He had returned to safer harbor. Or so he thought.
photo credit: www.lisamccourthollar.com
He was enveloped in darkness. Sitting in a dank hole. Naked and surrounded by the fetid smell of his own feces and urine. Drip, drip, drip. Something-water, maybe- kept hitting the top of his head. He got up to feel his way around. SLAM! His body rammed against metal bars. He gripped them tightly, screaming: “HELP! HELP! HELP!” No words left his throat. Something was attempting to pry his hands from the bars. He kept hearing his name and the sounds of rasping breath…
“Tom, Tom, wake up!” It was his wife. She was trying to loosen the grip of his own hands on his neck. He suddenly became alert but his breathing was labored and he was sweating profusely. “You were having a terrifying dream.” There was concern in her voice. He muttered something about pressure at work. Looking out the bedroom window, he noticed that the sun was rising. Good time to clear his head with a ride. He dressed quickly, filled his water bottles and hit the road.
He refused to think about the nightmare. Instead, he focused on the rush of riding fast and tackling the hills. For the next week, he was on automatic pilot. Rise early. Ride until it hurt. Work relentlessly. He made love with his wife each night with the sole purpose of feeling exhausted in order to ward off the fear of another dream.
The remedy was short-lived at best. He felt on edge. While work was going exceptionally well and home life was harmonious, the old churning and burning was kicking his ass. His boss was pleased with the latest project’s completion ahead of deadline and suggested that he take an added break to spend time with his family. Tom took this as a sign. A way to remove himself once more. He had two more days at work to come up with another escape plan.
He told his wife nothing of his boss’ recommendation. He kept his bike at work on purpose so as not to raise any suspicion. When he awakened on Thursday morning, he told his wife that he was going to ride his bike on a route from the office. He took the first of two small bags with him and placed them in his truck. The following morning (still with the bike at work), he pretended to have gotten a text from his boss asking him to come into work ASAP. He took another bag with him under the auspices of another “ride” later. Just before noon, he placed a call to his wife, telling her that he had been called out to the West Coast site to fix a problem. He would need to fly out in the afternoon. No need to worry about clothes he told her. He had enough with him because he had been cycling from work.
By the end of the day, he was ready. The hard part was over. Surely a week of distraction would help cleanse the dirt from his mind and spirit. Before he knew it, his truck was moving northward once again.
photo credit: warmnotes.com
He let out a sigh. Time to refocus. He looked at his watch: 6 AM. Good. He would drive into work and be home in time to see his wife and kids. A quick shower would wash away the remainders of last night’s encounter. He dressed, put the note in his wallet and hit the road. As he entered the highway a wave of nausea hit him like a Mac truck. He pulled over on the shoulder and crawled over to the passenger side of the pickup, opened the door and bent over. Must be the beer from last night, he thought.
He arrived at work earlier than usual and had a very productive day-meeting his deadlines with relish and very little pressure. He gave himself enough time at the end of the day to stop at the store and buy all the ingredients for dinner-wine included. He missed his wife suddenly and without a second thought, bought the biggest bouquet of flowers that he could find.
When his family arrived, the table was set, wine was poured and dinner was ready. They all looked relaxed after their respite on the beach and greeted him with joy and laughter. He felt good. At bedtime, the kids went down with ease-salt air does have that effect-so it was a pleasant surprise to find himself wrapped in his wife’s arms without either of them collapsing in exhaustion. She talked of their trip to the doctor’s and the home grown remedy for their daughter’s barking cough. How Karen and Joe opened up their home to all of them and of how the sea air had been a rejuvenating experience. He listened attentively smiling inside and out. He kissed his wife tenderly and held her close. He loved the feel of her skin, the small rise in her stomach and how he could hold her breasts with his hands. When he entered her he felt whole again. She smelled like home.
photo credit: www.myfountainonline.com
Stepping inside, she leaned back against the door and said: “Which do you want first? A cold one or a hot one?” He took the beer from her hands and put it on the table by the window. His heart was racing. He felt the rush of adrenaline and pure heat. Grabbing her by the waistband, he pulled her to him with a force that drew him down. He stopped thinking and felt himself falling further and further into an unknown abyss. He could taste her desire, her hunger. They did not speak. She pulled at his belt and his shorts fell to the floor. Then everything came undone. They were skin to skin. Until now, he did not notice her youth. She was clearly a decade younger than his 37 years. Her body was angular and thin-a cyclist’s frame. He had to keep himself from comparing her to his wife’s soft suppleness- a mother’s body. Ample in just the right places for him and still sexy.
Her assertiveness astounded him. He felt helpless and at her mercy so he let himself go. After, they shared a beer or two and spoke only of cycling as if they were buddies trading stories. It was both strange and comforting in its simplicity. The night stretched on pretty much like their earlier bike ride-back and forth in a silent lustful rhythm ceasing only to refresh themselves with another beer.
He began to feel the sweet release of his current suffocation slough off with each meeting of their bodies. Maybe this is what he needed- a distraction that took him to places he could only experience with a stranger. Maybe this would be enough to quiet his mind.
With the beers gone and their bodies finally spent, they fell into a deep, tangled sleep. In the morning, she was gone- leaving only a note with her name: Lauren.
photo credit: oabchurchconnect.wordpress.com
She stood there with a six-pack in her arms wearing a pink t-shirt and navy short shorts. The simple ensemble enhanced her sea blue eyes and her trim, fit figure. Her curly blonde hair was still damp from a recent shower and the wetness dripped down her shoulders through her shirt.Everything about her exuded a certain confidence and energy that he noticed immediately when he came upon her on the bike route earlier that day. She had just finished fixing her flat when he stopped to help. No need to play hero; instead she invited him along for the rest of the ride. They fell into a back and forth rhythm and cadence, each drafting the other as the route climbed and dropped along the rocky shore. She didn’t seem overly curious about who he was or where he was from. Yet, he had somehow let it slip that he was passing through and staying at one of the local places for the night. In truth, he had yet to check in anywhere. Somewhere along the way he decided that he didn’t feel like going home. When the ride ended, she let him know that she had to get to her afternoon shift at the local bike shop. She gave him directions and told him to stop in to check it out.
Before he knew it, he got himself a room and after showering, shaving and grabbing a quick bite at a nearby diner, he drove down to the shop. It was definitely a hang-out for the area’s cycling community and everyone seemed to know one another. She was busy chatting up a customer so he pretended to look around at the merchandise. After she rang up the order, he brought over a bike bottle (He really didn’t need one but how else to slip her his room number?) He handed her his debit card along with a piece of scrap paper-Room 204.
In the meantime, he covered his tracks with his wife. She had left a message that their youngest child’s cold had worsened to a serious cough and that they were going to the doctor’s. Later, his wife left a voicemail stating that the doctor recommended some time at the beach to cure their daughter’s congestion. She and the kids were heading south to Karen and Joe’s beach place for the night and into tomorrow. A slight pang of guilt and then relief washed over him. He made a quick call to work to let them know about his daughter’s illness and then he was done.
He swallowed his feelings and concentrated on what was about to happen.
Building A Life Of Hope 