Three Old Bitches

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You know, I didn’t think we’d survive in that pounding surf  

Tell me about it, Myrtle. It felt like a hurricane was sweeping over the Gulf 

No, No Myrna, it was the gosh darn pelicans thinking we were still housing those crabs

True enough Phyllis. Thank goodness those babies flew the coop a long time ago.

Well, I certainly was relieved when we washed up on shore at sunset!

Yes, indeed a beautiful sight just in time for a little shut-eye

Only to be rudely awakened by that beach loader. Geez, just when we relax, we get moved again

Now, Myrtle, you have to admit the driver was a hottie!

Oh I must say I was getting a case of the vapors when he laid me down in the sand…  

Well girls, I have to admit that he sure picked a cozy spot for the three of us

Until that middle aged beach babe spotted us…

Yes girls but she has a plan, I believe

Well, it looks like we’re going for a ride since she plopped us down right beside her truck 

OOh I am all a- flutter Myrtle,  I hear there’s some BIG conch shells in these parts!

Myrna, I think you’ve got  a bit too much sand stuck that shell of yours. Those conchies are always after the younger set

You’re right about the sand Phyllis and we’re about to get some shaken loose. It’s been a long time…

 

Our Lovely Miss Kellie presented us with a most original prompt this week! I left out the mystery since I had taken this photo earlier this month and knew I would use it someday in my writing. It fit perfectly for today’s prompt. My oldest son came up with the title after he saw the photo and dared me to use it!

Here is your FWF prompt:

per·son·i·fi·ca·tion
pərˌsänəfiˈkāSHən/
noun
 1.
the attribution of a personal nature or human characteristics to something nonhuman, or the representation of an abstract quality in human form.
Select something nonhuman and write about it as though it were human. It is up to you whether or not you reveal what it is, but I have found it a lot of fun to leave it a mystery and allow others to guess at what you were writing about. 🙂 Have fun!

The Mighty Fall

Øyvind Gregersen

Øyvind Gregersen

 

The mighty warrior of freedom had grown weary

Her values trampled upon

Pieces of her principles pulled away

Her mirror image tarnished by corporate forces

Waving their claim as ‘people too’

as an excuse to influence the laws of the land

Rights to vote

Rights to assemble

Rights to privacy

Rights of access narrowed

under the guise of false frauds, false gods and false enemies

Created through the soft wars on color, orientation and women and the poor

 Leaving us all with the question: What does freedom mean to you?

 

 

Ms. Kellie Elmore gave us quite the provocative image prompt this week:

Use the image at the following link as your inspiration. I can’t wait to read the responses to this one! http://1x.com/photo/45546/

Well, I never like to get too opinionated about issues given that we lack a civil discourse these days. I am a woman of strong convictions based on my life experiences.  Five decades worth certainly means something! But my beliefs are mine and I do not expect to share the same ones or to convince others that I am right.  Actually, the image reminded me of  a book I once read that has stayed with me for a long time. Margaret Atwood’s  “The Handmaid’s Tale” was written in 1985 and I read it shortly after it was published.  (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Handmaid%27s_Tale). I highly recommend it.

Siridean

Credit: wildgoddesslife.com

   They may not know Her

But she knows their thoughts

She senses their neediness

their desires

the impulse to share their story

-a piece of  themselves 

She does not judge 

She  feels their pain

The stain

of  their indignities and indiscretions

their joys and sorrows

When She walks down the street

a sea of people part

nearly bowing in reverence

to Her very presence

They cannot help themselves

They yearn to touch Her

Her very being is an illumination

a soft glowing beacon

Her attention is discreet

The slightest of touches 

temper their souls

surrounding them

in a healing blue light

She is a weaver

a Tantra  goddess melding together

the human and divine

A starry  messenger

 A natural-born remedy

A harbinger of peace if only for a whisper of time

 

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Not sure where I got this from to be honest. Thanks once again to Kellie Elmore for taking me to a place and space I never expected to go!  Plus the added bonus of adding Poem #12 to WordPress’ challenge!

Namaste’ my friends!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Light in My Hands

to love

 

 

A Young Life snuffed out in an instant by a speeding driver

A Mid-Life so full of memories, becoming rapidly unknown

A Mature Life declared terminal by a slow-moving diagnosis

Bad surprises make us stand still

Hold our breath

Fall to the floor screaming

 Look life in the eyes

Open your heart to hope

Lift yourself up

Gather strength through others and within yourself

Seek out joy

Remind yourself why you are here

Each moment is a step towards a new beginning

 

 

The first 3 lines of this piece are bits of news that are close to home. We know we cannot control serious illness and sudden tragedy. No words can offer real comfort. We can gather together and hold one another close and stay grateful for what we have and are there for one another.

Life is so very fragile. Find your joy today.

 

Thanks to Kellie Elmore for this power  Free Write Friday prompt. And I have the added bonus in making it another poem for poetry month!

Voyage to Nirvana

 

Image Credit: stuffpoint.com

 You find yourself in the lower level of an old ship. A calendar on the wall says  1682. There is a small window, and the view is nothing but open sea and a setting sun. There is a staircase and you can see daylight at the top…

 

Lydia awoke to the sound of vomiting, the stench of urine and shit and the feeling of her body being buffeted against a rough surface. Her mouth was parched as her tongue scraped across her lips in a feeble attempt to quench her thirst. Her eyes searched for information in a near void of blackness. Straight on, a piece of paper crudely slapped upon wooden beams.  In her blurred vision, she could make out four numbers:1682.  As her eyes adjusted to the low lighting, she realized that she was looking at a calendar. August 7, 1682!

Dazed and out of sorts, she attempted to arise only to be slammed down by a sudden jolt.  Something was not quite right. She stood up once more only to fall over once again. As she tried one final time to upright herself, a phantom hand grabbed her forearm. “Aye, where you going there, Missy?”  Could it be? Was this her former lover disguised as some sort of rag tag sailor out of a pirate movie? God, he was wretched looking. And then she looked at herself.   A gown of some sort corseted at the chest and waist. She was covered in a heavy shawl and her long flowing hair-did she have hair?- was atop her head hidden beneath a bonnet.

This was too weird. Where the hell was she? That tequila sure was strong last night. How many shots did she drink, anyway? As she looked around, there appeared to be others in the “hole” with her. Men, women, children in various states of sleep as well as health.  Then that smarmy voice called out  again .”Come on lovey, give it over a little.”  One hand was at her breast and the other up her dress. But her foot reached the perfect target just in time for another rolling around the room. He screamed and she found herself up against a set of stairs, her head aching. She looked up. Daylight! Lydia mustered all her strength and crawled on all fours to the top.

“Hey, babe. Sounds like you had a rough night at Club 1682. I made your favorite breakfast and some strong coffee. But first let’s get ourselves in that warm bubble bath made just for two.”

 

 

Thanks once again to Kellie Elmore for the Free Write Friday prompt!

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Buried Truth

Credit: weheartit.com

I didn’t understand it then, but I understand it now…

What it means to be born from deceit

The lies they told themselves to protect you

I didn’t understand it then, but I understand it now…

Unconsciously rejected by the one who bore you

Lovingly accepted by the one who was betrayed

I didn’t understand it then, but I understand it now…

The secret kept from you until you were of age

You convinced yourself  that it didn’t matter anyway

I didn’t understand it then, but I understand it now…

Their union at last came undone, the past too much to bear

A slight shift in your world, one you could not even hear

I didn’t understand it then, but I understand it now…

You left them then, never to return again

 An anchorless  journey that continues today

I didn’t understand it then, but I understand it now…

Falsely sure of yourself and never whole

Flitting from place to place and woman to woman

I didn’t understand it then, but I understand it now…

Never quite trusting but always controlling

Hoarding your feelings, a collector of sins

I didn’t understand it then, but I understand it now…

The stain of  your beginnings remains with you still

A jagged edge, a dizzying precipice and a perilous fall

I didn’t understand it then, but I understand it now…

 Kellie gave us this one line today:

I didn’t understand it then, but I understand it now…

And this is what I created!

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#FWF Free Write Friday: Ponder this…

by Kellie Elmore

Hope’s Beginnings

This house has a story…what is it?

Image Credit: We Heart It

“Do you ever wonder what really happened in that house?”, Blake asked. They were sitting in the truck just moments after he and Julie had signed the purchase and sale on the former Stanton family property. Julie had grown up in these hills and was once close to Jeannie Stanton,  a childhood friend who disappeared one fall afternoon in their fifteenth year, never to be heard from again. Jeannie was one of seven children from that rag-ma-tag family where chaos and cracking heads ruled through the dirty deeds of their patriarch, Joe.  Jeannie’s mother was far from quiet herself, known to pull heavily on the tap at Smitty’s, the local bar where she worked serving drinks and other ‘amenities’ to the men from the local coal processing plant- long since closed and cleaned up. No one even knew for sure if all seven of the kids actually were Joe’s. The EPA finally did its job and the old brick campus had been successfully retrofitted and resurrected into  a world-class sound studio.  Famous musicians from across all genres recorded some of their best work in this forgotten corner of the state. Julia and Blake had become big hitters in attracting legendary acts to record and even stay in the area.

Blake, of course, had no idea of what to expect when he first entered Julie’s childhood world. They met in London, both working as sound engineers, honing their talent with the best of them. When Julie’s dad- an engineer and business man himself- bought up some of the old factory buildings from the government, he decided that some of them would work perfectly as recording spaces. Others he turned into research and development spaces. Soon he was attracting fervent interest from scientists keen on learning and creating new avenues into the world of sound.

On a return visit home with Blake last year, he and Julie had come across the abandoned property. Knowing its negative history had not stopped them from envisioning a place that would serve as a haven and respite for kid’s who were victims of abuse and neglect. Too many of the Stanton kids had become lost souls. Now that Julie had the means and connections to turn things around, she set her heart and mind on making it happen.

Just then, a rumbling sound came up from behind them. A fleet of contractor trucks loaded down with heavy equipment came roaring up the rough road. Blake planted  a kiss on Julie’s lips.  “Time to get to work,” she said.

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Another great gift from Kellie Elmore this week!

#FWF Free Write Friday: Image Prompt

by Kellie Elmore

Magdalena

Source: We Heart It

Source: We Heart It

She ambled out into the hush of the city’s streets,the Arctic air at once taking her breath away and filling her lungs with renewed life. The spectacular chill washed away the late night’s pungent plundering. Another evening another man.  Pure bliss coupled with an exacting need to refill that sugar in her bowl.  The dark season only increased her need for the heat of skin on skin. She liked the anonymity of it, never knowing quitewhat to expect even when she was well acquainted with her conquests. The conversation ended as soon as the key unlocked his door. She wasn’t interested in small talk or the intimacy revealed in some random deep conversation. Each encounter was a relief and a revelation, each getting their share and never once feeling used or abused.

She never liked to stay, never enjoyed the tangling of limbs and sheets in the aftermath. Never wanted to greet the day with him. She preferred a quiet exit as he lay soundly sleeping. Nights like this when the world seemed dead asleep were hers and hers alone. She could make first tracks. Listen for the squeaky crunch of her boots on newly fallen snow. Shelter  herself beneath the awning of her umbrella. Alive,silently satiated, but still simmering with anticipation, awaiting the sensual mystery of a subsequent surrendering.

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#FWF Free Write Friday: Time and Place Scenario

by Kellie Elmore

An image prompt that took off down an unexpected path. But hey, isn’t that what free writes are all about?  I am thankful once again to Kellie Elmore for helping me tend to my muse! XO

Unchartered Waters

Source: We Heart It

When he first left, she felt that she had been tossed overboard. Forced to swim against impossible currents. Paddling with one oar. Surely, she was gasping for air.  At best, she could tread water.

If she stood still too long, she could feel a nibbling at her feet. Those predators sent from the deep to test her willingness, her courage to face her darkest fear: Could she make it on her own?

Then as sudden as the tide turns with the pull of the moon, she discovered the means to propel herself through the fierce storm of waves and the deepest of  cold waters. With each stroke,  the oasis of a new beginning was within sight.

Weary and worn but never defeated, she arose from the surf. Transformed from her journey through the salty brine, she reached  the shore.  Gorgeous, with the countenance of both an Amazon warrior woman and delicate nymph, she turned and bade farewell to a life laden with lies and libel. Her new path a revolution, a revival and revelation.

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#FWF Free Write Friday: Image Prompt

by Kellie Elmore

A Free Write Friday composed on a Sunday morning. Thanks to Kellie Elmore and all the other inspirational composers for their continued support!

At Last

Credit: wallpoper.com

I remember the first time I saw you.

Walking towards me in the heat of the day.

I remember that first conversation.

Hours of intimacy, our skin pruned and blistered from the water and sun.

I remember that feeling of connection.

Immediate ease, our bodies in unconscious rhythm.

I remember the endless days awaiting your arrival.

Airport greetings, my heart leaping and skin tingling.

I remember the soft downy covers.

Sheltered from head to toe, your heart on mine.

I remember knowing we were forever.

When just the sight of you

or the sound of your voice

or the touch of your hand

feels like the first time.

Another prompt from dear Kellie that gets to the heart of the matter. In love and in life it is always the small moments that count.

Click on the link to read other talented musings!

#FWF Free Write Friday: Ponder This

by Kellie Elmore

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