One Single Impression: Ochre
morning dawns with ochre beams
blanket warmed and pillow soft
fetching me from wandering dreams
sprawled and tangled set adrift
nothing moves, disturbs the quiet
days flow into honeyed days
outside sunlight summers riot
peaceful slow and easy ways
One Single Impression: Ochre
and I would lay me down
in leaves of ochre and pine green
soft forest shadows all around
cool and misty dreams
and as the shadows grow
midnight blue and charcoal deep
fear is driven far below
enfolded in the wings of sleep
Sunday Scribblings #221 : lifeswap
Adelyn always heard that the kitchen was “the heart of the home”. She didn’t know about that, but it sure was where everything happened in her home. He was passed out now, head on his arms on the kitchen table. He muttered drunkenly and she whipped her head around, making sure he was still asleep.
He never made a move as she fished the key to the gun cabinet out of his pocket. She had her bag packed with necessities, not that she needed much. Now she was raiding the gun cabinet. He could just consider it payment for the knot that was swelling over her left eye.
She stayed after mama died. Didn’t have much choice. There wasn’t much you could do when you were fourteen. That was three years ago and things were different now. He had gotten worse, for one thing. The more he drank the angrier he got. This was the second time he had ever hit her. It would be the last.
She grabbed several handguns and boxes of ammunition. He knew what mama was when they married. She didn’t know until years later, that he tried to get mama to quit. He never understood that it wasn’t something she had a choice about. He blamed her and when Adelyn started seeing shadows, he blamed mama for that too. Said it was bad blood. That was the first time he hit her.
Mama walked in just after the first swing of the strap. The second swing caught mama on the back as she reached for Adelyn and pulled her out of his reach. She stared at him without saying a word until he lowered his head. He walked out of the house and stayed gone for a week.
That was all in the past. It was her turn to leave. Mama was from Michigan. Adelyn had a name and a town. She turned the key and the truck engine caught. She pulled up to the mailbox at the end of the drive and slid an envelope inside. She would be a thousand miles away before he woke up and found the note. There was a time she would have swapped lives with anyone for normal. Not anymore.
Writers Island: Change One Single Impression: Dawn and One Word: Tide
if I held the moon
in my hands
I would command
the ebb and flow of
ocean tides
hidden strings
wolves would sing
their night song
gazing at my face
my light would paint
the trees and streams
and though I change
and disappear
I would return
huge and bright
haunting dreams
if I held the sun
I would pour it out
flowers lifting faces
following my path
I wake the birds
to sing you the dawn
while I bath the sky
watercolor ballet
delicate traces
bring forth sweat
as you toil
then rock you at eventide
a symphony of royal purple
and flame
setting and rising
warmth my name
But if I could breathe the wind
I would cover the sun and the moon
with clouds and
blow them all away again
make you chase your hat
while I laugh
the trees would dance and bow
as squirrels cling
the oceans leap and burst
spraying the sky with diamonds
seeds scatter to wait
for the sun
carry the birds
fill the sails
in darkness and light
power of butterfly wings
Sunday Scribbling 220: Birth and Big Tent Poetry: milk, resent, praise, hungry, dangerous, cough, part, dark, comfort, stars, dull
milk and honey
land awaiting someday
dangerous to bet
on future wishes
leaves you hungry
in the night
resentment dulls
the appetite
a cough in the dark
becomes fear
that too much time
has passed just
sing your praises
to the stars and
take comfort in
the arms of
the present
part the veil
brush the darkness
away for daylight
gives birth to
another chance
One Word: without
without rain
I am dry and cracked
future mud
ever waiting racked
with need for something
I can’t even name
to tame the wild flame
of wishful thinking
sinking to the bottom of
the well of all I ever wanted
haunted by the ghosts
of many lives long
past the corner of
the street I used to walk
the ghosts could talk to
you but won’t they’re
mine and mine alone
atone for sins not understood
but do we even
if we could would we
make the change
arrange our lives just
so adjustment made
a sacrifice
for rain
One Word: Matching
I’ve been to the local coffee
mecca lattes and frappes soy
bible studies and whispered
small town dreams and
schemes whipped cream
but sugar free light
bible belted covered sin
sipped through
watching eyes in
pretty words with bite
supermarket checkout
gossip rags surreptitiously read
by ladies in Reefs with
Oakleys pushed back on heads
of frosted hair just so
politely speak then slide
the card and hurry to the
other side matching
hummer waiting grating
on the nerves
big fish in little ponds
wave hands and wands
but don’t forget the
past is past and
worries fade and wade
into the deeper water
wait an hour after
supper houses curtained
watching eyes the dishes
washed away the sins
of day after day
tv shadows letterman
top ten answers to
your billion dollar question
assuage the guilt the quilt
will cover all the
bills come due and
you can’t lay the money down
you already paid and paid
and don’t know why
the kiss goodnight
the sleep
the lie
Three Word Wednesday cxciii: erase, meadow, trace
Jae sank down to the ground. She whimpered. “Too much! Too much!” She buried her nose in the dirt but even that was alive with a million scents. Aedan stopped and turned toward her. His voice in her head, with all the night sounds. He spoke over all the sounds and the invisible string from his voice attached itself to something deep in her.
She joined with the pack, erasing all trace of confusion. She took a few steps and whined again. One of the others nipped at her hind quarters and before she could react, Aedan was between her and the offending wolf. She looked on from the side as Aedan stared at the wolf, hackles bristling. He stood silent and proud while the other wolf rolled onto its back, exposing it’s throat. Aedan stared for a moment and then walked away. Jae turned and followed close behind.
The meadow was bathed in moonlight. It made the silver tips of Aedan’s fur glow. Aedan stopped and turned to look at her. She hesitated, filled with the night and the strangeness. She lowered her body, arched her back and tucked her tail. She would trust him to keep her safe.
One word: brave Writers Island: Gift
I am not brave she said
there’s monkeys in my head
they scream and rattle
bars and scars and would you
please just take a look
the answer wasn’t in the book
she held the light and looking in
I saw the wires tangled tin
and copper mangled how
the mess was made
she didn’t say but I
knew time had passed and
problems massed and
worsened with neglect
prone to misery abject
the words won’t come and
ideas fade to boredom made
from separation
objectification instant
gratification no easy solution
too much thought pollution
I gave a description
of the prescription
get out of your head
you see where that led
set shoulders stiffened back
try to fake the things you lack
beat it with your tiny fists
always planning making lists
striking out against the tide
better to just let it ride
don’t hide your pride
is not your friend surrender
doesn’t mean the end you’re
in the stream the dreams
of other lives will carry you
just sink into the link to
all the waters flooding surging
changing paths and paths converging
lines will blur and colors soften
even birds ride currents aloft
let it go and simply float
and maybe
sometimes
rock the boat
Three Word Wednesday cxcii hidden noble roam
Mackenzie curled up on the swing on the back porch with her book. The swing creaked and if you moved wrong you would get splinters, but it was her favorite place. Ever since Mom dropped her off at gram’s six years ago, the swing was her refuge. Gram knew that if she was sideways on the swing with her legs up, clutching the blue and yellow cotton pillow, it was “leave me alone” time.
In the summer, she sat on the swing while Gram sat in the rocking chair, both with metal pans on their lap, snapping beans. Mackenzie loved those times. Gram told stories. When it rained, Mackenzie would sit on the swing and listen to the water pelting the tin roof.
When they got the news that Mackenzie’s Mom wouldn’t be coming back, she stayed on the swing all day, not speaking. Gram brought the blue and yellow pillow to her then and it had stayed on the swing ever since. Everyone should have a place. This was hers. Gram always understood.
It was hers, except at night, that is. Mackenzie never ever went outside at night. Not even to the porch. Gram said things were hidden in the dark. Mackenzie knew she was right. She had seen them roaming in the shadows of the woods behind the house. They were never clear, too dark in the shadows. She saw enough. Gram said the noble spirits lived up in the high places. In the summer they walked up into the hills and Gram was teaching her to see.
“Quiet your mind Mackenzie. Really look, not just at what you expect to see. See past the shadows. Tell me what you see.” That had been a good session. The best.
“Mackenzie, your mother would be proud of you.” They were walking back down the hill and stopped at a waterfall. It was warm and they sat on a ledge and stuck their feet in the cool water.
“”I miss her.”
“I know you do, but you have grown into a lovely young woman and you have been a good student. You are stronger than she was, stronger than me. When we get back to the house, I have something for you.”
“And I guess you aren’t going to tell me what it is?” Mackenzie smiled. Gram liked to tease her.
“No but the longer we sit here, the longer it will be til you know.”
They put their shoes back on and headed down the hill. “Wait here.” Gram went into the house. When she came back she had a stick in her hand. It was carved and about a foot in length. “Gram, it’s beautiful!”
“It was your mother’s. When her body was found, they sent it to me. I kept it until you were ready.”
She handed MacKenzie the wand and sat down next to her on the swing. “For the last two nights I have seen a Bodach in the woods behind the house. If you are left here alone there are things you need to know. I’ve taught you what I can.”
“Gram, I can’t even think! No, you must have been mistaken. Here. Take it back!”
“No. Listen to me. She took a red ribbon out of her pocket and placed her hand on the wand with Mackenzie. She wound the ribbon around and around the wand. With each wind she spoke the words, “The power of Rowan protects me and thee.”
“I love you granddaughter.” Mackenzie shook her head.
“I will not let anything happen to you.” Mackenzie put her hand on her grandmother’s cheek.
“We don’t choose, when my time comes it comes. I don’t think anything will happen in the next few minutes though so why don’t we get ready for bed. I’m an old woman you know and that trek up the hill today wore my old bones out.”
Mackenzie frowned. “You’re sure you’re okay?”
“Yes, child. Come on. Let’s go to bed!”
Mackenzie’s sleep was restless. She tossed and clutched at the blankets. She woke up just before dawn. A crow cawed from a branch outside her window. Mackenzie sat straight up and shivered. With the feeling of dread building with every step, she padded to her grandmother’s room, her bare feet cold on the floor. “Gram?”
She stepped through the door, no snoring, no sound at all. “Gram?” She went to the bed and knew even before she touched her. She was gone. “Oh Gram. No.” She crawled up onto the bed next to her and smoothed her gray hair. She cried until there was nothing left but gulping sobs. What was she going to do now? She was not ready to be alone. The sun was high before she got up and wiped her face. She slowly went about washing and putting on clothes. She looked in the mirror and started to cry again.”You look like you’re ready. You’re a mess!” she told the reflection bitterly. She washed her face again and went out to the back porch. She took the shovel and headed to the path at the base of the hill. There was a small grove of trees there. She began to dig the grave.
Lisa like to walk the track early in the morning but today was different. There had been too much to do and by the time the shopping was done it was too hot. Trevor helped her do a few chores around the apartment and grabbed them a couple of salads from the deli for supper. When the sun started to get low in the sky, they headed to the track and parked in their usual spot.
“Looks like rain.” Lisa said as she stretched next to the car.
“Yes, but probably not til late tonight.” Trevor locked the car and looked back to the north. The sky was dark far off on the horizon and the you could taste the rain in the air. “Looks like on of those summer storms. Lots of lightening and thunder but I bet it doesn’t last long.”
Lisa frowned. “I hate lightening at night. It keeps me awake.
Trevor grinned. “Come on you big baby. The walk will help you sleep.”
They started briskly around the track, the air heavy with humidity but the breeze helped cool them. “This place is so empty. I guess everyone else did their walking this morning.” Trevor looked around at the deserted park. “Maybe we should come in the evening more often.”
As they rounded the south end of the track they neared a walking bridge that led to the ball field. Lisa hated that bridge. Even on the sunniest days she got a little shiver and walked a little faster as she passed it. It led over a deep drainage ditch. Tall weeds grew around it so you couldn’t see the bottom. The storm would wash dust from the track and debris from town down the gully and Lisa didn’t like to think about what might be down there. As they passed they heard the sound of a guitar playing under the weathered wooden structure. Trevor stopped. “Do you hear that?”
“Probably some teenager. What are you doing? Trevor, don’t!” Trevor climbed down the steep bank, next to the bridge, holding on to tall weeks to keep from slipping.
“I’ll be right back! This guy is good – I just want to see who’s playing!” Trevor disappeared behind the curtain of weeds and shadows under the bridge. Lisa stood at the edge of the track, craning her neck to try to see. She wasn’t going to follow him. “Trevor? Come on!”
The guitar stopped. She heard rustling and grunting. “Trevor? Are you okay? Come on, let’s go!”
Lisa heard the sound of laughter. Not giggling cheerful someone told you a good joke laughter. The sound made her stomach twist and and she shivered. She backed away from the edge of the track. “Trevor?” She called quietly.
The guitar chords drifted up to her. She backed up against a tree on the other side of the track, tears running down her face. She sunk down to the ground, leaning her head on her knees. “He will come back. He will. I’ll wait.”
One single Impression: Icarus One Word: Hawk
Icarus was right.
to try for height
Sun warmed wax dripped
unnoticed, feathers ripped
dumped in the sea
price to be free
birds to fishes
all from wishes
gravity kissed
but who could resist
if wings were mine
I would fly that high
the cool breeze caressing
soft clouds solid blessing
I would reach out to take
scoop up a finger full of cloud
like frosting on cake
pop it in my mouth
ice cream cold
cotton candy spun sugar
melted can’t hold
I would dive with hawks
startled at seeing me
and they would wheel off
disapproval squawks
I would glide
graceful as those birds
gently slide
weightless on currents
unseen in the light
Icarus was right
Wrote this:
A month ago, poems poured out, nearly everyday. I worried that people wouldn’t come read, that I was posting TOO much. Then the time of packing and cleaning out came and I kept thinking – when summer comes. When summer comes. I repeated that in my mind like our last SS prompt – a mantra. Now summer has started and zip, zilch, nada…..
There are chores to attend to, left through the winter. There are papers and folders to sort through and cull. Stuff I brought home from years and years of saving “in case I need it someday”. There are naps to be taken. It will come. I’m not worried. Not me….
Then went to Sunday Scribblings and the prompt was mess
down the years and tears
the fears of what the future holds
unfolds on beaches
farthest reaches in the ocean
each and every living
creature giving up a piece a trace
of DNA now altered on
the altar of our way of life and
eyes to show fantastic
plastic throw away here today
gone tomorrow
all our sorrow we don’t care
won’t share just hurry coffee cup to go
don’t walk don’t talk
ac runs and engine guns
its only fuel we let it rule
its not enough to wreck the land we
venture now to oceans shores
we know the scores at two bucks
a gallon who is counting cost is
mounting make a wish
tell the fishes
food chain dishes
compromised forever more
fossil fuel whores
diseased the source
of tears of fears
for years
peace
Three Word Wednesday CXCII budge, nimble, theory
been feeling kind of dry lately. Here’s to summer and energy and creativity!
winter soul is
dark and dry
cracked and peeling
strips and scraps
hidden in a penumbra
of busyness
no amount of scraping
or searching
will budge the edges
hedged in ragged
bowed head in
a cold wind
wound around
choking smoking
theories clearly
sloughed off like so
much dead bark
dried leaves crumbled
breeze
soft morning air
heavy dew
summers breath
rains down and fills
crevasses and crannies
nooks and corners
step out into the
light of day
drink it in
nimble thoughts
race through pastures
glaciers gone
white to blue
green to new
draped in color
teeming streaming
abounding reach
out to pick lush
fruit
Writers Island Prompt#5 Blindside
I don’t know much
for sure it’s such
a truth that I know
less than last
the past is gone and
isn’t it just like the present
to visit when I’m not home
dancing in the future
a barefoot roam
certainty was solid
once but shifting sand
was all it took
to creep behind me
sneak up on me
turned my head and
blinked a breath
the side I couldn’t see
was always where the
trouble be and just
when land seemed
close at hand
the storm blew in and
blackest night took
out my sight and
with a tug the rug
that was my home and faith
was shaken and no longer
safe
a phoenix bird can rise again
I heard and though
I’m not a bird
I learned a bit you know
about the rising from
the ashes from the
crashes life bashes
blindsided upside
down and inside out
without
a doubt just close
your eyes and breath
and pray
Sunday Scribblings Prompt # 217 mantra
Adelyn stomped around the kitchen stuffing weapons and supplies in her backpack. She jammed a round into the gun and stuffed it back into the holster on her side. She clipped a huge knife to her belt. She turned her back as she peeled off her bloodstained tee shirt. Grabbing a clean one from the counter she pulled it over her head. If he had been paying attention he would have seen the scars on her back. He was rocking back and forth now, chanting over and over “oh shit. oh shit.” like some kind of mantra. He looked as pale as that thing that nearly took his head off.
She crouched down in front if him and gave him a smack on the head, then ruffled his brown hair. “Snap out of it! I get that you’re in shock but we have to MOVE! That thing was real and where there’s one, there’s bound to be more.” She grabbed his chin and raised his face so he had to look at her. She spoke in a calmer voice. “Chris, there is a lot out there that most people don’t see. It’s like a curtain separates this stuff from everyday people. My mama and my grandma were both seers and I’m one too. Trust me when I say this is real and we have to get out of here. I’m sorry you got pulled into this, but they have your scent now and I have to take you with me.”
Chris focused on her voice and her eyes and shook himself. “Wait. Wait! Okay. This is really real? I’m not going to wake up and wonder what the hell I smoked last night?”
Adelyn grinned and patted his cheek. “Nope, sorry. This is as real as it gets. Come on. We have to get out of here.  She stood and handed one backpack to him and picked up the other. She handed him a pistol.
He stared at her. “Is this loaded?”
“Wouldn’t do you much good if it wasn’t.”
“I’ve never shot a gun!”
She grinned again. “Just be careful. The safety is off. Anything tries to mess with us before we make it to the truck, you point it and squeeze the trigger until it’s empty. Let’s go!”
He followed her to the truck, copying the way she swiveled her head back and forth watching for things that made the bile rise from his stomach to his throat. She hadn’t wanted to take him with her. Grandma had taught her to never involve normals in her world. They couldn’t handle it. They would end up dead and maybe take you with them. Grandma was gone and so was mama. She was the seer now and if she had left him he would already be dead. The truck cranked first try. She kept it in good condition, tank always full. She stepped on the gas and they lurched forward. As they turned the corner onto the gravel road, the truck rocked as the raspy metal on metal sound of something screamed in the night. Adelyn punched it. Chris looked grim as he spun his head around trying to get a look. They heard the angry howl of loss as they sped off through the night.
Three Word Wednesday CXCI Abandon Precise Gradual
unable to remember
the precise moment
the turning
was it a point
a corner
a missed sign
a line crossed
so gradual
so bad you will
not notice not see
the change in direction
just shadows on
the wall we all need
protection from repercussions
choices abandoned
a hand on a shoulder
wiser older prone to thinking
not jumping not sinking
into sand it’s quicker
but stop and look
before you leap
keep the bones they
are not broken and
neither are you just
turn again you never
know where it will
take you for ever
is a long time to regret
forget heavy thoughts
you bought the atlas
turn the pages sages
don’t know everything
it’s just pretty pictures
little songs to sing don’t cling
to past mistakes just
shake it off and cross
it off the list the wish
the yesterday is gone
weighed down
in sleep awake
and take a chance
dance
One Single Impression #117 Floating
Long week – feels good to be back
hemmed in on all sides
need a thicker hide
the water getting higher
and higher
all noise and fuss
music is the stream
a childhood dream
running jumping from
narrow ledge to narrow ledge
stop and teeter on the edge
petty grouchy whiny mean
that ledge is a razor
and it ain’t Occam’s
this really is just what it seems
no more the crowded hall
you don’t want to fall
down that hole
I would go down to the sea
where skin can
shed the days the ways
the all and spread my arms
touch nothing but space
and peace and toes
can leave prints in sand
and hand prints can
be had for shells and smells
of fish and salt and I
will walk to sunset gulls
will lead me on to
leave the trouble
horizon doubles as
the end where I can lay
it down and sun will
burn the dross away