Tag: small town life

A Spring Namaste’

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn poetry4 Comments

Credit:  peacesymbol.org

Daybreak, a new illumination

Night whispers goodbye

as Venus lights the sky

My celestial companion kissing my window

                          I breathe

Seeking my own inner radiance

before the day’s illusions break the spell

The scenery is losing its bleakness

The tough alloy of the dead season

surrendering to the still fragile newborn

I taste the softness of the new dawn

The air a crisp green apple

My breath white and warm

with the rhythm of my feet

The old beech that holds the bend

is surrounded in a  yellow glow

My aching body is grateful in its movements

Each step a stretch and release

The coyotes call heard, but not seen

Fox and deer leave their traces invisible, but present

Do they watch me as I forge my morning path? 

My thoughts wander much like me

Familiar with the way

Creating my own inner landscape

as I enter a new day

Journey to the Other Side

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn Uncategorized7 Comments

Credit:  intentblog.com

At the time of the dismantling I used to wonder

used to sweat in desperation

used to be ensnared in your endless games of lashing out

 for  punishment of things that I did not do

for the person you thought I was

the one who punished you for her own guilt

At the time of the dismantling

I felt myself wasting away

sick with a loss of control over my own destiny (or so it seemed)

eager with a morbid curiosity about your private transgressions

At the time of the dismantling

I used to wish you would become a stranger to me

someone I would pass by on the street or the airport without notice

someone I would see by chance who didn’t bring me to the brink of madness

At the time of the dismantling

I wish I wouldn’t recognize you

to turn my head in instinct at your unwelcome presence

a witness to your lingering lurking

and latching yourself to people and places where I could be found

 

At the time of the rebuilding

I ceased to wonder

 became refreshed in renewal

no longer trapped, but free in my freedom

At the time of the rebuilding

I felt my self growing

a woman with curves and flesh

the mistress of my destiny

no longer curious but filled with awe at new love found

At the time of the rebuilding

you became unfamiliar

a transient that I passed by with ease

no longer on edge, existing on a different plane

At the time of the rebuilding

I no longer took notice of you

I see you on the street at a distance,

at peace with knowing that the long ago parting happened to someone else

 

Morning Clarity

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn poetry2 Comments

Credit:  www.leemaysgardeninglife.com

 

Venus greets me before the sun

The day’s first star in the East

I step out the back door

Settle on the steps

Sipping, Listening Seeing

My stockinged feet welcome the chill of the cement

A runner’s massage before the road’s daily aches

Birdsong chatter a welcome cacophony

Drowning out Winter’s silence once more

Ducks make their way to their liquid oasis

Rapid beating of wings a thrilling urgency

A celebration of the newer season

I fill my lungs, the air freshly cold

Nary a scent:pure

My mind has yet to be cluttered

I sip my beany brew

Offering up peace, honoring the gift

for this brand new day

Hope’s Beginnings

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn Flash fiction14 Comments

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

Different Than The Rest

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn Flash fiction, Uncategorized13 Comments

Credit: www.dreamstime.com

Nicolette hopped on the old big yellow for the first time once again. She didn’t bother taking a survey for possible seats to share with someone or even look for empty ones in the middle. Just sat herself down right behind the bus driver. She placed her side-saddle book bag on the empty space beside her. Of course, in 1973 no one thought to carry a bag for their books. Just wrapped them in paper bag book covers and a bungy cord. That’s if they even bothered with books at all. From her twelve-year old perspective, the only ambition that her peers had were playing spin the bottle in someone’s basement or smoking in the bathroom between periods. In fact, she could already smell someone’s morning high at the back of the bus.

She let out a heavy sigh.  A new school away from the safety and innocence of her elementary years where her teachers encouraged her intellect and her small group of friends felt free to be themselves and not follow the crowd. But when Daddy lost his job, they were forced to sell their small house and move to the local trailer park on the other side of town. Momma said it would be temporary and as soon as Daddy landed on his feet, they would buy another house back in their old neighborhood. Yet Nicolette-a girl Daddy said was born with an old soul-knew the family had a long road ahead of them. Dixsville Junior High would be her school for the next few years. A place where they said the inmates ran the asylum. Where the rough kids went. The Dixsville Dump. Not like Janesville where class sizes were smaller and teachers were respected and rules were followed.

Without warning, her brief reverie was disrupted. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her bag being moved to the floor. In its place, sat a long-haired “greaser” wearing a thin black leather jacket, dungarees and black boots. Nicolette dared herself to look him in the eye. Surprisingly, he had a tender, sweet face and a welcoming smile. “Hey there, you must be the new girl. Name’s Joey. You look like one of those smart chicks. Don’t worry, Dixsville ain’t as bad as you think. We’ve got some great teachers who look out for kids like you and me.”

Nicolette looked at him in disbelief. What was talking about?  Kids like him kept the teachers in line, didn’t they? And ate kids like her for lunch.  As if to clear her confusion, Joey asked her, “So what do have first period?”  All of Nicolette classes were Level 1-the courses for the geeks. “Geography with Mr. Fiske,” she replied. “Hey! Me too!” he answered. “In fact, all my classes are the Level 1’s this year. My dad said if I don’t get my act together and show some ‘potential’ (he said this word in a sneering tone) I would be shipped off to military school instead. No way I  am giving up this (he tugged at his jacket) for those  brass monkey suits.”

“HEY! MR. JOE SMARTY PANTS! COME BACK HERE AND HANG WITH US FOR THE REST OF THE RIDE!  “Oh. Looks like my boys want me.  What’s your name by way?”  With a quick and still shy smile she answered, “Nicolette.”

When the ride ended, she stepped off the bus first. As she walked the long portico to the roughly worn brick building, Nicolette knew it was going to be a memorable year.

Kellie took us back to junior high with this one! I know I am dating myself…

#FWF Free Write Friday: Time & Place

THE SCARF

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn poetryLeave a comment

Credit: www.ebsqart.com

It sat in a holiday bag

Hidden in a corner of the room

Collecting dust

Unsure of its status

A gift given to another from someone she despised

I took it out one day with its tags still on

The colors bright and bold

Much like myself

I gave it a wash to cleanse it of bad karma                  

In due time the intended passed it on to me

 

Its pinks and purples capture my face

Drape my body in brazen confidence

Captivating in black tights

I am a sexy bitch

A provocateur

Defiant in the face of the vapid vamp

Yeah bitch you bought it

And now it’s mine

 

I am a tangible tasty power

Unstoppable in my cape of fetching femininity

Unconquerable to attempts at intimidation

This cloth of steel will bring you to heel

Empowering hues

A fiery fuse

Freedom Forever

That’s my muse

Midnight Angst

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn poetryLeave a comment

credit: lensblr.com

Last night I was awakened

By the piercing sound of the coyotes’ call

And my own sweat drenched skin

Fear and loathing in the blackness

Restless as the night sounds invade

Their howls are wildly harmonious

As I throw the damp covers off

Letting the night air cool my heat

The creatures seem to sing beneath my window

Monstrously loud under the hunter’s moon

My body disobeys me, a stranger to my soul

Howling in its flashes of humidity

It falls into a nightly imbalance

A  disjointed discord

Void of rhythm and its bold beat

I leave my rest to amble in the air

Deeply breathing its frosty scent

A witness to the noir heavens

I offer myself to the divine’s fiery orbs

Boldly stepping, never fearing

My nocturnal companions

Whose silence is as loud as their songs

Mid-Week Meditation

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn poetry9 Comments

credit: coppertopkitchen.blogspot.com

Darkness at day’s awakening lengthening

The sun a sleepy, slumbering star

I open the door to feel the air

Breathing deeply, my morning amble begins

I sense cool cucumbers, warm butter, fermenting leaves

The morning gray kisses my skin with its dusky dampness

Cloaked in the void, my mind a jumble of thoughts

I let them in and out at their own will

I beckon Mother Nature to grace me with her daily rise

Relenting, she presents me with peach fuzz puffy skies

Woman to Woman

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn poetry2 Comments

Credit: www.mutantspace.com

I remember when I knew it was you

I felt your conspicuous stare

Your obvious observations

You had heard of me through your lover

A man of ill repute

A believer in his own lies

     Who couldn’t handle any truth

 Your curiosity couldn’t stand itself

 So I wonder

Were you

Satisfied?

Or more mystified?

Did you feel justified?

   Unaware that I knew it was YOU

Your morning appearances an insinuation

   Gathering  information about my situation

    I played it cool and remained myself

      Empowered by your insecurity

      Emboldened by my maturity

      Embraced by my community

      I’ve watched you watch me

    And I know you’re not like me

       I am graced by sensuality

            Secure in my femininity

Aglow in my luminosity

    I, too was once under his spell

   My life becoming a slow burning hell

I look at you and see you’re not well

Nearly heartless

                        A vacuous void

Neither shapes nor curves to your body and soul

Invisibly thin

                  As deep as spit

    (Well suited to him)

     Artificially earnest

With manners that are staged

Tinged with feigned politeness

      And a simmering rage

            I cannot say I wish you good luck

You see he’s only interested in a nice little fuck

I celebrate a new life

Possessed of deep roots

A bearer of ripe fruit

A feast for another much sweeter brute

Love Always

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn Flash fiction13 Comments

Jackson Wedding

He had fallen in love with those dark tresses first, he thought. Something about the way she moved her body as she walked by him set his soul on fire. Her hair moved in rhythm with the sway of her hips.  Her skin alabaster white and her eyes endless black pools-lit with a life affirming force. And then she spoke. “I’m new to town and I was wondering if there was a bookstore nearby. My brain is thirsty for words!”

“It’s two blocks down on the right. I can walk you there since it is getting a little dark,” he replied.

They shared the literary world and each other from that moment on. Although friends old and new dismissed their whirlwind romance at first, they soon realized that they were witnessing a lifetime love. So today, on this day, vows and promises were exchanged along with the anticipation of a new life they created from the love and pure passion of one another.

This Friday’s post is brought to you by Kellie Elmore. 

#FWF Free Write Friday: Image Prompt