
blue skies
ten boys played soccer
taken by surprise
We never know when disaster will strike. My dear friend was hit by lightening several days before and survived. Sadness mingles with gratitude.
blue skies
ten boys played soccer
taken by surprise
We never know when disaster will strike. My dear friend was hit by lightening several days before and survived. Sadness mingles with gratitude.
I saw your smile yesterday
broad was your Kelly smile
reminded me of memories
long as a Gulu mile
small fingers intertwined in mine
dark ash upon your cheek
fought fire with the older boys
bravest child Id ever meet
I saw your smile yesterday
broad was your Kelly smile
reminded me of memories
long as a Gulu mile
bands all sizes on the floor
we’d make them for our wrists
love you knotted one for me
in colorful sweeps and twists
I saw your smile yesterday
broad was your Kelly smile
three short years of memories
but long as a Gulu mile
in such a little caravan
your body we conveyed
grandmother held you in her arms
wept o’er her precious babe
I saw your smile yesterday
broad was your Kelly smile
reminded of our memories
long as a Gulu mile
as your teacher I then shared
the picture in my heart
a tightly woven little place
it never will depart
I saw your smile yesterday
broad was your Kelly smile
knot of precious memories
they’re long as a Gulu mile
happy you tend to the garden
waking me daily with song
bringing cheer never sorrow
I find myself singing along
*
more work is there in the morrow
gather and fashion a nest
complaints never are filed
rarely do you stop for a rest
*
little one out in the wet storm
no jacket to fend off the rain
grateful for your reminder
sun always follows the pain
*
I take my pen sadly to paper
to write about someone I love
gone toward braodened horizons
taken gently to heaven above
*
spring raindrops
birds joyful refrain
tears fall freely
Today at Poet’s United the prompt is Birds.
This haibun is lovingly written for my father-in-law Robert who left us today.
a blurry reflection in wintry pond
from my pocket something priceless falls
“plop” is the sound I hear
I consider as it silent calls
“ninety years is too soon”
says old, wizened but sharp of mind
two wives I never intended to bury
for the century mark, I have time
I ponder his possibilities
friends mostly gone
better save your pennies
your days are long
a blurry reflection in wintry pond
from my pocket something priceless falls
“plop” are its last words
I consider as it silent calls
Sharing this with Poet’s United the prompt this week Nineties
It was cold down there
where my leg once hung
I never talked to my limbs
now I hold long conversations
with something that is forever gone
We made memories
palled around as friends
we were a team you and I
well we were
I guess good things all have to end
Think about “Us”
If you could do it all over
would you run off
at the first sign of trouble
leave me without cover
I always thought
you’d stand and fight
misconceptions run in my family
you were more concerned
about being right
*** For all those who have suffered amputation it is not an easy thing you face. That part of you will never get better and your diligence is required everyday to prevent infection. I met a man at the hospital and he was one his third bout of losing more of his foot. He had a great attitude about it I might add but his feet I could tell had become his friends.
I’ve cried for seventeen long months, I’ve called you for your home, I fell at hangmen’ feet – not once, My womb and hell you’re from. All has been mixed up for all times, And now I can’t define Who is a beast or man, at last, And when they’ll kill my son. There’re left just flowers under dust, The censer’s squall, the traces, cast Into the empty mar… And looks strait into my red eyes And threads with death, that’s coming fast, The immense blazing star.
~above is an excerpt from “Requiem ” by Anna Akhmatova*
Tears mingle in the dirt
whose ashes are these?
they look familiar
momentarily my tears sparkle in the mud
“oh yes that was my first love
he died at the hand of Lenin
my son is still awaiting my tears”
the ashes have worked their way
into the fabric of one shoe
clinging to memory
“please God give my frailty a purpose”
this shoe I ask that they not take
I must cling to it for warmth
when the winter breezes dry my once fresh skin
kiss my cheek with remnants of him…
~mdw
(my echo of a poem to this Russian woman who knew such pain)
Anna Akhmatova is known as one of Russia’s finest female poets. She lived during a time when freedom of artistic expression was unwelcome. Her losses were many…
This is being shared with Poets’ United Midweek Motif the topic Cancer.
This recent poem Winter’s Accusation deals with cancer the disease. I write occasionally about it but I usually try to stay clear of those doors.
She always seemed to wear pink
like a spirited blossom
that always embodied spring
where once we sat
there is a cold covering
nothing speaks of her warmth
dawning day in starry eyes
heat of molten sunsets
her flower petals drop
I traverse this white path
her bare footprints covered
frozen is the fabric of my tears
that fall like icicles
and I sit on our bench
waiting
alone
I went far afield on the Poet’s United prompt today. I am snowed in at this beautiful getaway – so the snow covered bench and the rambunctious pink begonia stole the show which was supposed to be focused on “Fashion.”
tsuka mo ugoke waga naku koe wa aki no kaze
shake! o tomb!
the sound of my wailing
is the wind of autumn
© Basho
Alone, I began
spring my awakening
autumn sings my song
The Carpe Diem Haiku Kai prompt is Grief. What sounds do you hear in grief?
I am privileged to know some remarkable and talented writers. Joseph Pinto is no exception. When I met Joe I was living on the Dark Side of the Moon which reflected in my darker than normal poetry. I had admired his writing as well as the work written by what I consider a Horror Guild called Pen of The Damned. I don’t know what other writers ponder (when their pen is resting) but I remember wishing that some day I could write to the caliber as these engaging horror writers each with a chilling style all their own. When Joe asked me to join PEN, I was dumbfounded but gladly said “yes.”
I know that writing with experienced writers helps to improve one’s own style. I will never arrive at the level of the horror writing that Blaze McRob, Nina D’Archangela, Thomas Brown, Craig McGray, Magenta Nero, Tyr Kieran, Zack Kullis, Jon Olson, Hunter Shea, and Joseph Pinto have achieved, but I believe my horror has intensified because of their patience and influence.
I am pleased to feature such a fine and intense writer as Joseph and urge you to dig deeper into the core of the world he paints on the page.
My inspiration for writing horror comes from a variety of places. Most of the time, I’ll glimpse at an image in my mind; it’s almost like a still frame from a movie. Using that image, a story will slowly develop and ferment like fine wine. Music, believe it or not, inspires me tremendously as well. I’ll take the emotion a particular song will churn up within me and use that when writing. Every day life is definitely a contributing factor, whether in my own cosmos or things I’ll read in the news. As far as I know, I don’t have bad dreams; none that I can remember, at least. lol
I started Pen of the Damned along with Nina D’Arcangela a little more than two years ago. It rose from a very simple concept: developing a platform that will promote and market both writer and guild alike. So we decided upon a strict limit of only ten writers employing varying writing voices. Each Tuesday, a new writer takes the spotlight, so to speak, and shares their work. The material is always free for readers and of course consists of horror fiction or dark, angst-ridden prose or poetry. We keep a strict maximum of 2,500 words per post. This ensures a brief but impactful read for all to enjoy during the course of their day.
We’re delighted that we’ve gained so many fans and are gaining more as each week passes. Our original goal has definitely been met. Nina and I have many dastardly intentions for Pen of the Damned – it’s just a matter of cultivating it to fruition.
***
Which I know from experience takes alot of work and is appreciated by each of the Damned members ~Leslie
My most recently published book is Dusk and Summer with Sirens Call Publications and is actually a contemporary fantasy story. I wrote and self-published it a little more than six years ago when my father passed away after a fifteen month battle with pancreatic cancer. Grief stricken and unable to process my loss, I came to the realization that I had to do something to make sense of it all. I sat to write what I’d initially believed to be a vessel for my emotions, but it unexpectedly transformed into a fantasy tale. Inspired by my father’s passion for the sea, Dusk and Summer was born.
It’s a book of love and loss; a bittersweet tribute to my father. It’s also a book of hope, of dreams made real, and of a fantasy world beneath the waves that is my gift to my father. My book will not only help anyone who has suffered the loss of a loved one, but will sweep readers away with its unexpected story arc.
The Sirens Call Publications team did an amazing job guiding me through the revision of Dusk and Summer nearly seven years later. They kept it as true to the heart now as it was then. I couldn’t be more pleased with the caring and compassionate manner in which they handled this very delicate subject matter and the professional acumen they displayed while doing so.
I’m also very proud to say that I’ll be donating a portion of proceeds from all sales of Dusk and Summer to the Lustgarten Foundation for Pancreatic Cancer Research.
******
I won’t say too much about Siren’s Call Publications now other than please check them out they have many publication opportunities for writers. I hope to get an interview with them in a forthcoming article.
The classic horror that inspired me comes from the literary medium, and that would be the early works of Robert McCammon. Reading from this amazing author definitely opened my eyes to a new and wondrous world and pushed me to become a part of it when I was much younger.
***
I was not familiar with McCammon but I am diving into his River of Souls.
If I could be a monster what would I be…can I cheat and give you two answers? lol First, I’d want to be Cookie Monster. I mean, who doesn’t love Cookie Monster? And a chocolate chip diet for life? Sign me up!
The second monster I’d want to be is Godzilla. I’d rise my cranky self from the bottom of the Pacific, stomp cities and scorch them with my radioactive breath- even fight some other monsters along the way. Oh yes, hands down, Gojira, or as you know him…Godzilla, King of Monsters! lol
*****
I have to throw this question in as I love the answers 🙂
What’s up next for me is the start of a new book. I’ve had an idea scratching around inside my head and it’s about time to get it out!
Thank you very much for offering me the opportunity to talk about myself and my most recent book. I’m truly privileged to be featured on your blog, Leslie!
*****
Here’s additional information about Joseph Pinto:
Joseph resides in Northern New Jersey with his young daughter and wife. You can find him in a multitude of places online.
Track him down on Twitter: @JosephAPinto;
Facebook: Joseph A. Pinto, horror author and more…
His personal blog: JosephPinto.com
The Pen of the Damned blog
He happily shares his deranged likings on Pinterest
He occasionally lurking in the halls of Google +.
Or, you can simply email him at authorjosephpinto@gmail.com.
You can pick up Joseph’s book, Dusk and Summer, in both eBook and print versions on Amazon and Barnes & Noble, an eBook version on Kobo, as well as other formats on Smashwords.
Please don’t forget, every purchase is more than a great book; it’s also a contribution toward the fight against pancreatic cancer through the Lustgarten Foundation for Pancreatic Cancer Research.
Learning to live by the indwelling life of Christ.
Gud skaper noko nytt ved sitt Ord og sin Ande, vi kan ta imot det i tru og få oppleve at han gjer sitt verk med oss. Hans skaparkraft verkar konstuktivt i våre liv og skaper noko som er verdifullt for oss. Naturkreftene verkar nedebrytande, i fylgje entropilova, men Gud er Ånd og det som er født av hans Ande består. Jesu frelsesverk er fullbrakt og fullkome. Han er den siste Adam, som er ifrå himmelen og som for oss har vorte ei livgjevande ånd. Han gjev oss den Heilage Ande frå himmelen av berre nåde. Han gjev oss det evige livet.
Looking ahead, without looking back (too often)
Thanks for following a cowgirl on her crazy life journey.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before. - Edgar Allan Poe
Hoping to make the world more beautiful
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With previous posting of "Our World" on Blogger
my humanity in written form
Experiments in Creative Writing, and more ....
Poetry by Mich
FOR READERS AND ASPIRING WRITERS
Everyday musings ....Life as I see it.......my space, my reflections and thoughts !!
From Board Books to Clean YA
Cherishing the Past while Celebrating the Present
FROM ONE PARENT TO ANOTHER
Living life with dissociative identity disorder and complex ptsd