‘Fiction In A Flash Challenge’ Week #20 NEW Image Prompt! Join in the fun! #IARTG #WritingCommunity #FlashFiction #ASMSG #WritingPrompts

poetry from Jan Sikes

Writing and Music

Author Suzanne Burke posts a new writing prompt in the form of an image each week and the responses are absolutely amazing!

 Each week she features an image and invites you to write a Flash Fiction or Non-Fiction piece inspired by that image in any format and genre of your choosing.  Maximum word count: 750 words.

This is my contribution. I want to give you a little background on this poem. When my late husband was dealing with such a difficult physical decline, during one of the many hospital stays, he developed pneumonia and I feared he might not live until morning. I held vigil throughout that long night and this poem came to me. I remember searching for pen and paper to get it down, and I remember the tears that fell as I scribbled it. I felt that I had to give him permission to let go and…

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the unraveling

This poem by Kat Myrman is so beautiful I had to share it.

like mercury colliding...

the unraveling

the tapestry is unraveling
earthy tones of brown and
tan, yellow and red fading,
white patches soiled from
blood and tears, offering no
warmth, no consolation,
threads splintering, breaking
unable to hold together the
dreams of the innocents
wrapped in it like a shroud…
where are the seamstresses
with steady hands and nimble
fingers, trembling with needles,
eyes too narrow to thread, to
mend the tatters, to scrub
the fabric clean, to restore
the tapestry, or better yet,
to weave a new cloth, one
that is brilliant, softened
with batting, large enough
to cover all who slumber,
to shield us from nightmares,
from the darkest of nights,
to bring us safely to the dawn
we’re hanging by a thread
tossed by tempests, trembling,
chilled to our bones
while the world burns

~kat


Crawling out from under my rock. Sorry for my recent silence. I confess that I have…

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Poetry: The Silence

She slips

off

her rocker

and giggles:

can it be
can it be

that all I

can see

is

a reality?

She says, “Last night I thought
I heard God, but it mighta been
the Supremes.”

Wanna die, wanna die
from flying so high

today I am ten
and tomorrow
I’m 60.

More quiet,
more quiet,
more crazy
&
quiet.

(c) 2015-2019 Rob Goldstein

At the Mirror Blog Share: re-generation

I love the way writers on WordPress support each other. This is a brilliant share from Myths of the Mirror.

Myths of the Mirror

It’s been a long time since I’ve shared a blog post “At the Mirror,” featuring a writer or poet that turns my bones to water with the power and beauty of their words. As life regains a semblance of normalcy (and I prepare for NaNoWriMo), I’m delighted to share this powerful poem from Lindi at Fresh Poetry:

Re-generation

by lindi-ann hewitt-coleman

‘we are the daughters
of the witches
you did not burn’

the sons of slaves stolen
and traded like cattle
on cotton ships across the atlantic

we are the illegitimate children
of colonial bastards and the women
who were stolen from their homes and lived

we are the grandchildren
of the potato farmers
who did not starve.
we are descendants of the jews
that were not killed

we are the children…

(continue reading: re-generation)

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