Orange sun is setting
too few memories
I look in her garden
even bugs will do
so little remains
my little rose is gone
even tree stumps decayed
hidden in waxy green
I find her smiling face
Camillia pink blush
I want to inhale
one remnant of us
To Mothers everywhere who plant seeds in the hearts of children.
Happy Mothers Day
I heard a banging on the steel grated door.
“Umm huh. Yeah I’m coming. Hey Peely.”
“Here this is for you.” The errand boy, who we were both so found of, handed me a box.
Inside was a hat I had admired for months, The card underneath in her handwriting.
“Peel, ya know what I hate most about this town?”
“Yeh, Sam, I know. It’s so damned lonely.”
“Tonight a few people are gonna wish they were just lonely. ”
I looked under the envelope flap and saw four names circled in red.
“Hey Peel ya got plans tonight? I need a special delivery…. ”
****
“Just one sniff of these beautys, that’s all that’s needed, Peel. ”
“I’ll make sure that he takes a big whiff. ”
“You must be subtle. Remember this guy can sniff out trouble like a shark. As he looks at the card, make a comment like: ‘The more expensive these damn flowers the less they smell. And then: “Oh I’m sorry, sir, did I just say that out loud?”
“If the wife or mistress is around, she may inhale first. ” Peel’s eyes grew big.
“That’s okay it takes several minutes to take effect.”
“What if I demonstrate?”
“Yes, Peel that would work fine except then you would be poisoned. Hmm wait a minute. Can we plug your nose?”
“I have some of those foam ear plugs. ”
“Ok, yeah cram them up your nose right before the delivery. Use a little Vaseline as a seal.”
“This had better work. ”
“Careful this guy suspects his grandmother. PLEASE Don’t go getting yourself dead.”
“I won’t, Sam.”
Lately, People I care about find themselves under headstones…
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721.
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722.
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723.
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724.
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728.
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731.
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732.
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735.
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738.
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739.
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741.
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742.
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743.
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745.
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748.
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750.
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752.
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754.
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756.
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757.
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759.
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762.
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764.
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765.
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Too warm in your arms to form poetry
feasting on the heat in your eyes
chilly are the moments without you
left to focus on dawn’s skys
send me a rose when you’re thinking
about how you will miss me too
warm on the fire of memory
write of our love in haiku
rose imprint
snow too soon will forget
all memories
The words sung in a song
conveying 3 minutes of trite
something like
“you looked in my eyes
now its all gone wrong”
*
Wish washy
touch of your hand
electricity is spent
replaced with a sign says “vacant”
over your heart
*
words you once said
attached to a laughter
we were writing love’s chapter
pages are dispersed
and driven over
during the evening rush hour
*
yes,it all meant something once
the roses, the wine, romance
the moonlight dance
where we promised…
that was before
it all froze in the snow
sun-kissed were those days
and nights
dreams could not compete
with you
❤
regrets fan like
War and Peace
you left
I became a fool
❤
my favorite glance
into the past
your eyes
they sparkle blue
❤
the knowing smile
upon your lips
I’m lost
what should I do?
❤
I held one futile
aching heart
torn
ripped beyond repair
❤
revive, cannot
the petals dead
red roses
that lie bare
❤
misunderstood
I always was
I’m here
but you aren’t there
Believe it or not each of those is a different filtering effect from Picmonkey.
I think landscapes can benefit from all these different filters.
I have to say I normally just clean up my shots with contrast and maybe a little more light.
Would love to know what filters you use and what photo-editing is the most helpful for your photography.
The WordPress Daily Post Photography 101 prompt for today was using filters. Daily Post has a challenge for everyone whether you get involved daily, weekly or monthly it’s worth a shot.
Words whispered in candle light
trust of one
vows spoken
perhaps intentionally taken
by one
long stem roses
often sent
no reason given
who were they to?
red with guilt
vow given
twisted thorns
agreement sealed
the last petal falls
in blood
fragrant offering
undeserving of soft beauty
I’ve been forgiven
Today at Carpe Diem the prompt is forgiveness. Join us as we delve into the world of Haiku.
petals pulled away my heart
spikes picketed into my soul
waters that once so freely flowed
dried up and blew away
***
petals pulled away my heart
love it seemed between us too
wrapped up with a bow
came dead upon delivery
**
petals pulled away my heart
words inscribed in red
buried long ago
none can unearth love’s end
**
Petals pulled away my heart
locked up by your deception
one of us must go
I’ll gladly take the keys
Photography “Roses”, “The Key” © L. Moon 2013
I love the visual of locks and keys especially the old fashioned kind. Today’s poem was inspired by Kim at Poet’s United / Verse First the prompt – “Lock”
“Damn you,” she clenched her fists wanting to throw her iphone, where she read his last message, against the wall.
“Are you really going to just walk out of my life after a text?”
They had met on-line. Isn’t that where everyone meets these days? Many things in common: thrill seekers, loved life, hated commitment, music, romance oh yes the list went on.
They actually met because he had tweeted lines from a favorite song. She loved that song and RT’d it. Then she responded with a line from a favorite song of her own. He happened to RT her back. This went on for weeks. Once in a while they’d exchange a few words; not much more you can do on Twitter. One day he put up words from a song that spoke to her personally. He knew it and she knew it. Now the air was swirling with innuendo.
He wasn’t the only guy she “talked” to. There was something about his words and love for music and life. They finally started a Facebook relationship. He saw pictures of her rather than a postage stamp avatar. “You are beautiful and so athletic” he commented. The remarks about her beauty were daily. They went past her beauty to what she was wearing. She looked for ways to turn him on in text.
They discussed places and people and things and sometimes they discussed their bodies and what they would do if they were in the same time and space. The wonderful thing they both knew – there was no commitment. How can you be committed to a blip on the other end of a computer chip. So they kept chatting; little by “chatted “with went by the wayside. They were sucked in to a relationship.
“Naw that can’t be he shouted one morning. I can’t be in love with her. I don’t even know her.” But when he thought about it he knew more about her than his ex-wife. They talked about everything in great length. He knew where the scar from her first bicycle accident was she knew when he had his first crush. They got alot more personal – he knew moles, tender spots. he knew the word to type that would drive her crazy and she? All she had to so was whisper his name in text and his heart started racing.
He couldn’t do this. What if she wasn’t who she said she was? She could be a dog. But he realized that wouldn’t matter he loved her heart though he’d never held her body. He yearned for that woman at the end of his computer and phone.
He sent her a text: “Sorry can’t talk anymore – no commitment rule.”
She hated the fact that she would tingle when she heard from him. Now the words she had always embraced shot an arrow to her heart.
The battle had just begun. In her mind, she contrived all sorts of hateful things to post about him on Facebook. She had an arsenal of insults in 140 characters for twitter. Her blog would carry a series of poems lined with sadness. Her launch date – the day they met.
But – she still hoped he would change his mind before that date. She would will her iphone to buzz or beep. No cooperation. She lost her desire to chat on Twitter and Facebook. She dreaded running into him.
It was the countdown. Tonight at midnight she would launch her retaliatory effort at his heart. She was walking into her building after lunch. It had been a good week so far. She had stopped looking at the phone and the computer screen every second of the day.
She looked great in her business casual, attire. Just then a man walked up with a bouquet of pink roses. Grabbed her arm and said “I can’t do this without you. You have become my world.”
She stared at the man who, until this moment, had always been at the end of her computer. He was sooo much better looking than his photos. She let him sweep her up in his arms. They lost track of time as they kissed, listened to each others voices, and kissed.
Back at her office she got a text:
“Have dinner with me for the rest of our lives….”
As she cleared her computer of her “War Room”, she mused “All is fair in love and war.”
Our prompt was War. Please go to The Tenth Daughter of Memory for more War Stories.
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
Books by author Diana Coombes
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
penned in moon dust 