Story Saturday: Dreams (Poetry)

Photo by Konrad Odhiambo

 

*Written for #StorySaturday (Twitter)

 

 

Dreams

As sure as the sun rises in the morn

and the moon greets the stars at night

as I am with dreams meant to be alive and true

Advertisements

#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: Santa-Zombie Story

Nearly a year passed since the start of the undead plague

she’s been on her own since

in an empty house, in a not-so-empty neighborhood.

 

 

Christmas Eve

she decorated the dead tree with handmade ornaments

made from cereal boxes;

took the last can of Spam as her treat for the white bearded man

and placed the plate on a table beside the sofa.

 

 

With a bat in hand, and the sounds of death rattling at the front door,

she fell asleep on the dusty furniture

in front of the cold, stoned hearth.

 

 

Rustling sounds awoke her

with a great start,

as she swung the bat through air,

a voice sounded,

a voice so beautiful and warm

it caused her eyes to sprang open;

bewildered, stunned

she stared at the not-so-frightful sight.

 

 

A chubby man dressed in a red suit

stood before her;

she blinked and swinted

thinking she’d died already or just dreaming

but saw that this was no dream

Santa,

he was really real!

 

 

He held out his hand,

“Come, let me take you to a wonderful place.”

 

 

In a blink of an eye, she found herself

on the roof-top

where a sleigh and eight reindeer stood waiting.

 

 

Santa, beside her now, smiled;

a smile she’d thought never would form on her lips again,

she returned with glee.

 


 

Note: This story has been renamed to “The Last Child” and a video portion of this story can be found here.

 

 

 

 

 

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.

Dark Places #WEPFF: Black Heart

 

Today, I’m participating in the above contest/bloghop for WEP (aka Write…Edit…Publish).

 

Black Heart

 

Real love I’m undeserving of 

as torment and abuse 

are all I’m able to offer 

 

 

Such a sweet angelic soul 

he was 

I allowed fear and envy 

to rule 

 

 

Now standing at his final  

resting place 

pain, regret, tears fill my core  

 

 

Darkness now my only 

companion 

life ever fleeting 

death 

can’t come soon enough 

for this black-hearted bitch

You Tube Tuesday: Dead Poets Society

 

Over at my other site, Only the Lonely Press, I started a new video series called, Dead Poets Society, where I will take a poem of a given poet (long since passed on) and create a video for it.  This one above is one of my favorite Robert Frost’s poems.

Below is a bit of a morbid poem written by Emily Dickinson which I absolutely love.

 

I plan to create more videos for this particular series in the near future.

Do you have any (short) poems by your favorite poets to suggest?  If I like it (a lot), I may just create a video for it!

 

Story Sunday: The Protectors (Poem)

 

Bunnies of assorted colors

scampered around the child

in attempt to lead her

to safety

from the horde of flesh eaters

 

*Another poem I wrote for #StorySaturday.  This week’s prompt was bunnies.  And of course, I couldn’t write anything cozy or cuddly 😉

Story Saturday: Teddy Bear (Horror Poem)

 

I wrote this short poem for #StorySaturday (Twitter).  Today’s Teddy Bear Day and being me, I couldn’t write a nice and sweet poem-it had to be twisted and scary.

 

The girl hides under

the folds of the quilted cover

with her teddy bear

waiting

Murky shadows move

with an un-natural purpose

to claim and possess

wholly

When she opens her

eyes only to see the rising

sun, her bear on the

floor, frayed

She reaches for it and

embraces the toy to her wet face

and receives the scent

of death

You Tube Tuesday: From 35,000 Feet/Praise Aviophobia

 

(*YouTube Tuesday idea originally came from the Martians Attack blog)

 

Earlier this year, I had an opportunity to interview both poet, Geffrey Davis, and film-maker, Chad Howitt in regards to the above film (originally presented by Motionpoems).    For the first time ever, I had a credit in a film for assisting with the film-maker on the poem.  A pretty cool experience 🙂

 

I love the whole premise behind  Motionpoems in their goal to take poetry and bring them to life through film.

 

Incredible.

 

To see the original film and interviews, the links are below:

Film

Interviews

 

Motionpoems now in the midst of its seventh season, and I hope they have many, many more.

 

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.

An Ode To Spring: A Contest Winner

Over at I held a contest called, “An Ode to Spring,” where writers could write poetry about the coming of Spring (or hopefully, warmer weather!).   Today, it is my delight to present you the 2nd Place winner, Tate Morgan, for his beautiful poem, Spring Love.

 

In spring lovebirds hover fancy

till morning lit by the dew

Takes back winter’s heartache

restoring the love in you

 

The desperate cries of anguish

from a heart that knows no joy

Feeds long upon its own regret

tossing the soul as if a toy

 

Give to me your heartaches

lie down in the meadow green

Let go the sorrow of past loves

have rain wash the soul clean

 

Always to blossom in springtime

love feeds us of our dreams

Washing away the winter sorrows

from each one or so it seems

 

Take all of what you’ve been given

set aside pieces in you there-of

No broken promise of joy’s embrace

can outshine a true heart in love

Enjoyed his poem?  You’re in for a treat then!  Visit his page for loads more. 🙂

Crossroads (A Matter of Perspective)

crossroad4

 

As a writer, what does this poem say to you?

 

The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost

 

 

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Darkness Abound

dark valley

 

 

 

 

One of the most difficult challenges for me was accepting the fact that I have a progressive disease (Usher Syndrome).  The next challenge was admitting that I needed new skills/retraining.

Coming to terms to both of these took twenty-four years.

Better late than never, eh?

Even then, it was difficult.  It’s been like going through the grief process that spanned over two decades.

I was not only losing my vision while dealing with moderate hearing loss, I was also gradually losing my independence.  And that was the most painful part of all.

I felt diminished as a person. Inferior.

Worthless.

A liability to others rather than an asset.

I loathed feeling that way.

But, what could I do about it?

So…depression and anxiety invaded, and for a time, won.

 

Darkness

 

Darkness is my constant companion
Everything before me veiled
Stumbling I cannot find my path
The way is shrouded
Uncertainty fills my future
Which path to choose?
Dreams seem just beyond my reach
What is the point of even trying
When darkness is all that awaits me?

 

*Stay tuned for the next post on what I finally did about my situation

 

Reading and Writing Poetry (Poll)

All The World’s A Stage by William Shakespeare

With today being the 400th anniversary of Shakespeare’s death, I want to honor him with one of my favorite poems that he wrote.

 

“All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms.
Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.”

 

 

What is your favorite Shakespeare’s poem or play?