Jump for Joy #children #atozchallenge


Just one more

he pleaded with his papa

this horse is my friend

and he would be sad

no need to tickle me

to hear my giggles and glee

I’m jumping to touch

 the end of my rainbow


All ages jump

music sings inside their feet

high is joy


Bubble of Thanks #poetry #Thanksgiving

“Two bubbles found they had rainbows on their curves.
They flickered out saying:
“It was worth being a bubble, just to have held that rainbow thirty seconds.”

Carl Sandburg (quote from Goodreads)


It was unexplainable

that moment when I touched you

a giddy colorful rainbow

it was like giggles and hugs

all wrapped in one

It was unexplainable

that walk across the desert

my feet never touched the hot sand

you were firmly holding my hand

and I made it

It was unexplainable

the light in the sky

rays touched my skin

warming from within

and I knew you were near

It was unexplainable

when I learned you had died

taken all the bad things I had done

my heart you’d already won

and I cried

It was unexplainable

that moment when you touched me

a giddy colorful bubble

full of  giggles and hugs

in the sun we would run

The Poets United  prompt for today at Midweek Motif is Gratitude. This is a week (in the US) to really think about what we are grateful for. I am grateful for my God, family and friends!!!

  “Love each other as I have loved you.  Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.”

John 15:12

Part In Peace: Is Day Before Us?

bSarah Fuller Flower Adams (1805-48)

Part in peace: is day before us?

Praise His Name for life and light;

Are the shadows lengthening o’er us?

Bless His care Who guards the night.

Part in peace: with deep thanksgiving,

Rendering, as we homeward tread,

Gracious service to the living,

Tranquil memory to the dead.

Part in peace: such are the praises

God our Maker loveth best;

Human hearts to heavenly rest.

Such the worship that upraises

Pot of Gold #haiku #poem


Kristjaan Panneman takes a look at Kanshicho form of Haiku with Carpe Diem Haiku Kai:

“I will look at the separate “onji” of “Kanshicho” now and than I will try to explain what Kanshicho was meant to be.

Kan -> means: perception, expression

Shi -> means extravagance, pride, poetry

Cho -> means frivolity, number, butterfly
Kanshi -> means Chinese poetry

As I place those meanings together than Kanshicho means:

A poem in the Chinese way that expresses the extravagance and pride of the poet with the frivolity of the flight of a butterfly. And than Kanshicho starts to come to life. It’s an expression of something which is seen by the poet, a moment as short as the sound of a pebble thrown in to water, in which he/she sees the extravagant beauty  and pride of nature. That extravagance beauty is caught in a three lined verse with the frivolity, (in my opinion frivolity means “not strings attached, free”) of the flight of a butterfly.”

So here’s my shot at unconventional frivolous haiku:

rainbowecho 3924852858_53e886bc91

I’ll never let go

rainbow caresses my cheek

your smile in my hands

An Ode to Hope #atozchallenge #poetry #photography


If only

there was a rainbow

at the end of every storm

rather than a tender heart

torn adrift, forlorn


If  Only

there was sunshine 

to greet with each new day

instead of  endless tears

washing banks of hope away


If Only

I within your arms

ta hield against the cold

breaking shadow’s  greying spell

that’s what’s been foretold 


If only I imagine

a warm and moonlit night

your sunshiny kiss

dispels the  lingering cold

of a wintry frosty mist


I can only

dream pink petal snow

brushing against my face

soothing all the sadness

not leaving any trace


I’ll only

close my sleepy eyes

ruefully hope and pray

to see your smile

joyous rainbow in any day


The Ode: A formal, often ceremonious lyric poem that addresses and often celebrates a person, place, thing, or idea. Its stanza forms vary.

The odes of the English Romantic poets vary in stanza form. They often address an intense emotion at the onset of a personal crisis  or celebrate an object or image that leads to revelation. (Information gathered from Poetry Foundation)

Traditionaally each stanza is 10 lines ( I ended up breaking mine down).



It all makes sense (short story)

I woke up from a deep sleep to the same thing “nothing.” I guess I should be thankful; I have a job and a room of my own. But most  many days it is difficult to wake up to being blind. Have you ever wondered what the color yellow looks like? I can feel yellow, I can taste yellow, but I can never see yellow. When you hear the triumphant screech of a hawk that has seized its prey do you appreciate the swooping motion he makes as he dances in the sky? I can hear the dance – I will never see it.

I hate hearing. My ears taunt me with a knowing that my eyes will never experience. My teachers applauded the senses.

“your ears will hear better, you fingers will feel more intently as if to compensate for the loss of one of your senses.

“Easy for you to say teach you have all of your senses intact.”

“Tap,tap, tap.” my finely tuned ears can hear the white and red stick that acts as a replacement for my eyes. Not that I know what red or white looks like.

“Good Morning,” my ears hear an unfamiliar, melodic, perfectly tuned voice. “Good Morning Miss, ” hoping she can’t sense the insincerity in my greeting. She does something unexpected; she grabs my arm but she’s not steering me like most feel inclined to do out of pity. “I am new here; please show me to my desk.” I rarely am asked to help people. Obviously because everyone believes I am helpless. The smile on my face is now genuine as I deliver her to her spot. “Have a nice morning miss.” “It would be so nice to have lunch with a familiar face.” “Gladly. I’ll see you at the lunch hour.” I had never used those words before “I’ll see you.” For some reason I felt as though I might “see her.”

We could have talked way past the allocated lunch hour. She was so energetic, interesting, full of life. I imagined the way she looked. Tall, long hair, beautiful eyes, radiant smile, gorgeous. We established a routine. We met each morning outside, had lunch, parted for the day outside of the office. I didnt’ want to be too forward so I waited until Friday to see if she wanted to get drinks after work. She acted as though she had no other plans, no other friends, and made me a priority. It was nice to feel important to one person. We danced by the moonlight. I was grateful for my acute sense of touch; her body felt so good in my arms. Friday became a weekend of lunch, dinner and brunch.

Monday through Friday she found a fresh flower on her desk each morning from me.

One morning I heard a few of the ladies gabbing, “Oh how sweet for both of them.”

“Yes the perfect couple. Fortunately he will never know.”

“What “won’t I ever know? ” I wondered.

I was now grateful for my finely tuned ears. I knew her voice. Though she was cubicles away I  could hear her sigh or murmur.

I never thought it would happen but I was falling in love. I believe she was too. After a night of wine, good food, and dancing; she asked me in to her place. I held her, we kissed, my hands wandered, our bodies became intertwined under white gauze and moonlight.

Heaven must have been singing that night for I truly was. I woke the next morning with her head on my shoulder. My fingers had been so alert to her shape that it seemed as though I could make out her shape  and see black tresses cascade about my shoulder.

“Is this what love is like when you are tricked and you see images with your mind?” I smiled.

As we walked to work that morning, I experienced the colors of the rainbow raining down on my heart. Blues, greens, reds, pinks, purples, and yes yellows bombarded my senses. I walked her to her desk and beheld something not from my mind, or my ears, or my fingers. I saw the biggest chocolaty eyes peer up at me accompanied by a radiant smile. For the first time I saw!

The doctor examined my eyes and said, “It’s a miracle. Be careful as you adjust to this new sense and enjoy.”

My ears were still acute as they heard the women “I wonder how long it will last now that he can see. Once he sees how ugly the scars, from the fire, have made her, I wonder how long he will be able to bear it?”

That night  I touched the scars that my fingers knew so well.

I pulled her face toward mine, “the light has shown me how beautiful you are. I never want to let you go.”

Join me and read the other wonderful short stories on Theme Thursday. Our prompt was Light.

Thanks Velo Steve for the great Rainbow (perfect)