What if?

 

What will happen if that cloud,

shaped like that woman there ,never speaking loud,

decides to just take it -all the pain?…

decides to never lash back on a windowpane?

 

What will happen if that cloud,

shaped like that woman there, well-endowed,

decides to turn into a nest for birds?..

decides to turn into a pup, whose gender is a curse word?

 

What will happen if that cloud,

shaped like that woman there ,head bowed,

decides to forgo all it’s power?…

decides to hold on to it’s laden darkness forever?

 

— end —

Author’s note: Sometimes when I stand over the kitchen sink for the millionth time, I wonder about ,” what will happen if the clouds….”

Other times I wonder:

What will happen if I

decide to not do the dishes?  🙂

—

The definition of well-endowed in this context is: having a lot of something that people admire or want like intelligence.

—

This less than 100 word poem  was written in response to a 100 word photo challenge  posted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields each week. PHOTO PROMPT ©  Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.

Click on the ‘blue frog’  below to read other amazing takes on the same photo prompt:

 

Advertisement

The search

Finish the story begins with:  “He thought he found the perfect hiding spot.”

For all his darkness burning hot.

He thought he dug so deep a hole.

To bury all the hate in his bottomless soul.

He thought he sealed it with layers of resentment and pride.

Like cement mixed right.

He thought he built a façade for the world’s sake.

With charity and piety rendering it opaque.

He thought he was invisible amongst the herd.

The roar in his voice never to be heard.

It’s with that confidence he let me search his eyes on our first date.

I clapped with joy on finding the perfect soul mate.

———————————end———————————–

The 93 word above poem like story was in response to ‘Monday’s finish the story’ flash fiction challenge. This unique flash fiction challenge  provides  a new photo each week, and the first sentence of a story. The challenge is to finish the story using 100-150 words, not including the sentence provided. Details are available here:

https://mondaysfinishthestory.wordpress.com/2015/07/27/mondays-finish-the-story-july-27th-2015/

Memory lane

Searching through the narrow tunnels of gray

a memory arises, like a sliver of light piercing fog,

pushing aside the dark and dank:

gentle breezes,hair on tip-toe

deluge of drizzles, dizzily moist

fragrant earth, musky breath

flutter of butterflies, buttery fingers

velvety moss, finger-tip sparklers

benevolent sunshine, lukewarm inferno

Ah! the might of a stolen kiss!

—– end —-

This picture at first sight took me to a dark place but the light at the end of the tunnel led me  to the beginning of a tunnel: a hallway in my college, not very different from the picture in that it was long -dark-dank. At the end of that hallway ,during break, stood my boyfriend waiting for me, in front of the principals office…the best place to meet without generating  gossip.

I struggled to recreate that romantic moment in words..maybe because we wanted to steal kisses but actually didn’t …or maybe because the moment belongs to a different lifetime…or maybe it was a dream and this boyfriend was just a figment of my imagination.

My boyfriend and I lost touch on the day of my marriage…one minute he was there looking deep into my eyes, the next he was lost in the crowd. I have never seen him since…I suspect my husband is holding him captive in a dark underground tunnel..

I dedicate this poem to my one and only boyfriend on the occasion of his recent birthday.

——————–

This 56 word poem is written in response to the 100 word photo challenge  posted by Rochelle Wisoff-Field each week.

Click on the ‘blue frog’  below to read other amazing takes, that fellow Friday Fictioneers have, on the same photo prompt:

That’s an order!

The crew of the Angel Flame received orders to head out. Their captain gathered them and said:

There will be times when you feel

like a tiger swimming with sharks- way out of your element,

desperately wanting to come up for air – a torment.

There will be times when you have to

dive in and let yourself sink -into oblivion,

live beneath the surface, barely breathing- a mere pawn.

There will be times when your

screams don’t reach your ears – muffled by layers that cushions you,

weighed down by unreasonable demands – more than a few.

There will be times when you

won’t know which way is up – an unfathomable darkness,

 searching for light – tethered to an invisible  harness.

There will be times when you want to

paint the ocean pink –   fighting all the blues,

try to find your feet then and put on what life gave you -a perfect pair of shoes.

 

—————————————————————————————————————————–

The above story/poem was in response to ‘Monday’s finish the story’ flash fiction challenge. This unique flash fiction challenge  provides  a new photo each week, and the first sentence of a story. The challenge is to finish the story using 100-150 words, not including the sentence provided. Details are available in this link:

https://mondaysfinishthestory.wordpress.com/2015/05/18/mondays-finish-the-story-may-18th-2015/

Word count: 141 excluding sentence provided and title.

The drop

I existed. Why? What am I part of?  I never knew.

I looked around me.

We all existed. Why? What are we part of? We never knew.

Some of us disappeared.

How? Where to? We never knew.

Until the day I met him.

His touch transformed me.

I lost my form. I rose.

I saw all that I could be. The possibilities were endless.

Snow, Ice, mist….

Anything but a drop of stagnant water in an abandoned fountain that I was ,all my life.

I dropped. That was my last memory.

I existed. Why?

I vaguely remembered something about possibilities.

——————————————————————————————————

The above 100 word Allegorical story/Poem is written in response to the 100 word photo challenge posted by Rochelle Wisoff-Field each week. Photo prompt  © Copyright – Rachel Bjerke.

An InLinkz Link-up

Happy Belated Anniversary!

Last week was my parents 44th wedding anniversary. We didn’t celebrate it for a simple reason that my father is no longer alive.

When I reflect on my parent’s 28 years of  marriage I realize that theirs was a unique and beautiful one. They made it seem so simple and so natural that I was lulled into thinking marriage is a great game where both parties -bride and groom , husband and wife – are winners, equal partners.

Their marriage was a dance where they twirled and intertwined  into one entity to meet life and it’s adversities; and where they separated and showed their individuality , complimenting each other. They balanced the scale of yin and yang; not necessarily sticking to gender stereotypes. They respected and trusted each other despite their sometimes diametrically opposite principles.

His warmth

Her embrace

Their love for us

His reason

Her emotion

Their common sense

His principles

Her motivations

Their hard work

His empathy

Her sympathy

Their compassion

Her self-confidence

His humility

Their presence

His anger

Her calm

Their patience

His sacrifice

Her sacrifice

Their love for each other

That was my parent’s marriage …a symmetrical poem -where there was room for He and She and Them – the perfect nest for us children.

They each had their strengths and played them to the best of their abilities. The adverse life events they could control they tried their best to control; gave all they had to control….but there were too many that wasn’t within their control. They stuck together in it all…until death did them part.

In some societies a marriage’s success is measured by the longevity of cohabitation and  success of the offspring compared to a certain social group ; the wealth that they have amassed or social status of the husband and/or wife. Sometimes the success is measured in the height one spouse scales in their career and the other one is assumed to be behind the success. This is all the world can see and measure.

We can only intuit the dynamics of the marriage by observing the spouse’s interactions with each other. By the spark in their eyes or lack thereof, when they look at each other; Or whether they look at each other at all.  By how they speak to each other or about each other; Or if one is allowed to speak at all.

No one sees or measures that which goes on within four walls nor what goes on within the four valves (in the heart) of each person: the true marriage. No one can measure the value of a quiet evening playing chess together enjoying each other’s company. No one can measure the value of a spouse sharing without ego filters  the day’s events and the emotion it invoked: some times laughter , some times pain. No one can measure the value of intimacy. No one can measure the value of knowing that your spouse tears open their heart and pries open the lid to their soul just for you! And even more ,knowing that you can do the same without any fear of judgement.

In all those immeasurable ways, my parents had a successful marriage. That’s my observation as one who stood close to those 4 walls and those 8 beating valves.

It’s a shame that marriage anniversaries are not celebrated after the death of one spouse; especially such successful ones. Maybe its time to change that trend. Maybe its time to send a note or call and say to your one living parent….

“Your life together,

the way you lived it,

will always be my anchor

on stormy seas.

Happy Anniversary!”

Water – A Haiku

Binding  roots to sand ,felt ,

On wavy wind rippled silky dusty rocks,

Your presence even in absence