Worthy #atozchallenge #writers

girl at coffee

the lack of a smile in her eyes told me

she too young to hide that radiant glow

 too much tarnish to buff away

butterflies and girls should fly free

you are worthy this you should know

go with nature dance, sing, Play!

W

Too often young people are made to feel they aren’t good enough.

What a shame when someone with so much potential is robbed before even given the chance to try.

What do you do to stay young?

Highlighting some writers who make a difference in my blogging world:

Linda has a heart for the nature around her (and she’s a great storyteller)  – Rangewriter

Charlie writes poetry that hits the marrow – Read Between the Minds

Mabel writes keenly about the mix of her Australian and Asian culture Mabel Kwong

Magyar lives somewhere between the sea and the world of haiku Magyar Haiku

Honore writes, shoots amazing photography and shares his travels – This Corner of the Woods

Ranu her pen is embraced in beauty –Sabethville

And some A to Z folks to enjoy today:

I am Woman #survival #poetry

 

so many walked

Looking up at the crack in the sidewalk

Unable to scream, I shudder

I feel the concrete about me move

“no please, not again” I mutter

I see the hand ready to strike

I brace myself like steal

I hear a board contact

There’s nothing that I feel

I look out at the falling snow

powdered sugar lightly shaken

oh to be nature pure

what hasn’t man from me taken?

I gather up my will

There are sounds beyond the mist

gentle breezes blow ahead

so many things I’ve missed

I look out at the falling snow

powdered sugar lightly shaken

wishing I could be pure

what hasn’t man from me taken?

You may not know my name

my boots trudge the well known way

“Survivor” I lay claim

with love this path is paved

 

The prompt this week at Poets United is Survival. The prompt is in recognition of Women around the world who have survived abuse, war, life…  International Day for the Elimination of Violence against Women

Do you know that 70% of women have been raped? (That number is low.) I was part of a group of women writing about the atrocity of rape and how accepted it is in many cultures.  A  male friend of mine commented that it wasn’t a big deal (unless you were a virgin) when you were raped. No comment!

My title Echos a Song by Helen Reddy: I am Woman

 

 

 

 

 

It was only 98 cents… #children #flashfiction

She smiled a big wooing smile that only a daughter can pull off

“98 cents daddy that’s all”

“well that sounds like a bargain little darlin. Are you sure I would hate for someone to take advantage of you?”

“No daddy if you promise 98 cents the puppy will be all mine.”

How could he refuse that face?

If only he had taken a class on refusing beguiling females 101

When she was sixteen he heard  “it will only be 998 dollars daddy and it’s cherry red all the kids will be my friend daddy please.”

this flash fiction/prompt is in 98 words (including the title) per the authoress of Saturday Centus – thanks Jenny

The Winding Game (a short story)

“Mama says another ten times around sissy.”

“Is that all?”

“I know, I like doing this winding game with you too. What can we do to make it last?”

“We we could start over; she will never know.”

“As long as we have the right amount at the end,” the younger sister chimed in.

So the girls unravelled the colorful yarn and played the winding game for a long while.

“What have you been doing my darlings?” the mother said when she came into the room.

“We did exactly what you asked,” the girls said in unison.

The mother smiled knowing that the yarn had been much neater when they had started.

Mama knew what they had been doing. She and her sister had enjoyed the “winding game” when they were girls.

Visit Monday’s Child for more children’s prose, poetry, and short stories based on a picture prompt

Who is this man? (Theme Thursday)

“Come on Jessica you have to tell a story. We all have to.” A redheaded girl with freckles said in a bossy tone.

The girls were telling stories. The typical slumber party fare: scary, something personal, or what they caught their siblings doing.

Jessica was introspective and shy; sometimes people forgot she was around and that is how she managed to get pieces of the story she was about to tell now.

“There is this man who is in love with my mother; tall, dark, handsome, smooth British accent – you know the type. But there has always been something about him that I wondered about. Like who is he really? What is the secret he holds back? You have to promise not to tell anyone what I am going to tell you. I am trying to put together information about him and I don’t want him to get wind of what I am doing.” A hush filled the room as the girls sat up in their sleeping bags. One light, from a flashlight,  shone on the story teller’s face.

“He’s got a story to tell, but I think he must hide it for fear of being discovered. You see he was in the war. He was a pilot who carried secret information. He may have been part of the CIA or whatever they call it in England. He has a scar on his face probably from a knife ; his hands shake at times when he sees my mom handle the large carving knife. Once he told me he was about to be captured when the resistance saved him – he was that close to taking a cyanide pill. You know those are the kind that kill you instantly.” A gasp, from one of the girls, was heard in the dark.

“He has a locked glass cabinet of medals,  knives, and hand guns. He must have been a hero to have all those medals. But he says he doesn’t like to talk about it much. I overheard his boss at a cocktail party tell one of the guests that he had built something top-secret to spy on other countries via satellite. His boss says they have to keep his whereabouts in the plant a secret so people don’t find him. My brother told me this cool story about when they went driving in the mountains at night. He has a black Jaguar; it’s fast. He turned off the headlights while he was driving the mountain roads. Who knows how to drive like that?”

“And get this he has a daughter in London but he never talks to her. He says, “it wouldn’t be safe.”

One night, when he was asleep, I heard him talking in his sleep. He said, “gotta get away, make my escape soon before they drug me again.”

The girls started talking all at once:

“Maybe he was in an enemy camp and they were trying to make him talk.”

” He sounds like a James Bond guy who knows all this cool stuff and has to kill people.”

“Maybe he’s like a Jason Bourne and he has all these identities.”

Well my mom is worried because he hasn’t contacted her for days and he hasn’t shown up to work. That isn’t like him. They talk ever day and he is usually at my house.

The girls had plenty of ideas about what had happened:

“They found out who he really was.”

” He had a secret cover and someone turned him in.”

“He has lots of enemies if he is a spy.”

” Someone broke in his house and kidnapped him.”

“He’s dead.”

A hush filled the room.

Late that night young girls were discussing  who this man really was. They pondered  different scenarios to his disappearance around one, low on batteries, flashlight.

Several days later, Jessica’s mystery was solved. Her mother got a phone call from her employer. The man known as “Brandon” had been in hiding for several years in the United States. He was returned by officials to a British mental institution.

Go to Theme Thursday for more

Thanks to Taberandrew for the 007 photo

She’s Gone / He’s Gone (Teen Suicide)

Molested by a neighbor

she told me one day

Asked her parents for help

they knew not what to say

she begged and pleaded

a break from this beast

They didn’t aid her

her problems seemed the least

they were until that day

she left them a note

she couldn’t forgive them

was all that she wrote

***

Everyone knew this boy

had talent we read

had so much promise

a senior they said

he lived to the heights

not wanting to bend

he planned it for prom night

next  morning was his end

***

Why is she gone Why is he?

they had so much to offer

doesn’t society see?

life can be so hard

give to our teens

hope, support and  love

people they can depend

maybe then

this wouldn’t have been their end

Teen Suicide

Has your life been affected by teen suicide? Not a day goes by when a teen doesn’t contemplate, attempt, or succeed at suicide. I was in the ER last weekend; a teen fortunately was brought in before it was too late. People in tears in the hall a somber cloud hung in the wing. Pumping stomachs – is it enough? How can we be there before the final bell tolls? Who should tackle the problem? We all can play a part. Be a shoulder, be a friend, be that someone who a teen can depend on. Even a smile of acceptance in a crowd can convey hope in desperation. Make a difference it may just save a teen’s life today!

Photo: Ragged by Paleontour

(Lic Creative Commons)

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