#Story Sunday: Seashells (#Poem)

Photo Credit: Pixabay Free Images

 

This poem was written for the prompt, seashells, for StorySaturday on Twitter who gives a new prompt each week.

 

 

On the golden sand
pinkish shells spread out in jagged bunches
the sea calls from the deep
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#YouTube Tuesday: Man’s Hands

I wrote this poem not too long ago about my thoughts on nature, and how man tries to imitate it with his own creation.  Below you can either read it, or watch in video format.

 

Beauty and magic

are found in nature

where the urban

landscape

only hopes to

emulate

 

 

Guardian, keeper

of sacred and pure

unmarked, noble

from man’s

immoral hands

these peaks stand

 

 

This world darker it

grows, compelling me

to the mountains

in search

of what my heart,

soul yearn for

 

 

No city or wealth

created by man’s

hands can provide

the hope

and harmony

crafted by earth

 

 

Now I understand

the soldiers’ need of

retreat to the

quiet

after wars

to a place where true

healing exists

untouched, unblemished

by man’s hands

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

#Poetry: Desolation

 

Desolation

 

Even tho the sun shines,

I feel no warmth

 

While the moon rises at night,

my eyes are shuttered against its rays

 

My heart’s hard and

the red fluid of my flesh runs cold

 

I long for the quickening

of my essence once more

 

But all I see is darkness

and the way back now forever shut

 

 

#WEPFF December Challenge: With Every End There Is A New Beginning

 

Below is my poem for #WEPFF December Challenge- The End is the Beginning

Enjoy!

 

 

 

The End…

for all things, there is a season

this we’ve been taught

though we rarely dwell on

until it’s standing

dauntingly, devastatingly

before us

 

 

To let go…

the hardest of all to do

of those we love, cherish

for the heart, the flesh,

pain is undeniably real

as the knife

 

 

Look…

to the horizon,

the sky ablaze with vibrant morn colors

and remember, that for every night

there is a dawn,

and a time for new beginning

 

 

All that’s required of us

is not giving up

for the night will end

as any season

and with a new day,

healing and hope

Story Saturday: The Old Tumbleweed Ferris Wheel

 

The Old Tumbleweed Ferris Wheel

 

Ferris wheels I used to enjoy

until I met Tumbleweed

strapped in cages

spinning in all directions

while the wheel turned

clockwise

Then sudden it stopped

leaving my brother and I

hung upside down

at twelve o’ clock

The strap across my laps

had come undone

now literally dangling

 untethered

To ease our nerves

we sung

You lost that loving feeling

till the cage reached

six o’ clock

Needless to say

I never rode another

Ferris wheel

since that day

You Tube Tuesday: Black Heart

 

For many years, I had this guilty pleasure of seeing my written words come alive with images and music.  Instead of waiting to have someone else produce it in to a short film, I created my own videos using Kizoa 🙂

This particular poem I wrote for a contest (October).  It’s meant to be a horror poem, but it is especially horrifying for me as it is taken from my distant past of a person I once was.  Long story.  Perhaps one day I will be brave enough to write about it in more detail.

If you’d like to participate in YouTube Tuesday, post something from YouTube that you enjoyed and tell us a bit about it.  Don’t forget to include the link to this post in yours so I can check it out.  Also, if you’re on Twitter, tweet about it using the hashtag #YouTubeTuesday.

The Tree

 

She'd been locked in the house for months 

as the undead raged outside

 

Famished and dehydrated 

she stared out the bedroom window 

and spied the pair again

 

For days, these cats roamed out 

on the limbs of the enormous hardwood tree 

as she wondered how they're surviving the apocalypse

 

Today, she decided to find out and proceeded

to climb out the second floor slim windowpane 

 

As she dangled on the limb, she glanced below

 

There her momma stood, gaping up to her daughter 

mouth opened and gnawing as if ravenous with 

flesh-thirsting hunger

 

She scrambled up on the branch 

and glanced towards the tree's core

 

A small hollowed hole revealed the bloody mass of flesh and bone 

and it was then she realized what a grave mistake she'd made