
Photo: Amitai Asif
She could not believe her eyes
As the path forked into surprise
And the end of trail became
Just step one into the game
Long the day stretched on ahead
Hours left for them to tread.
Photo: Amitai Asif
She could not believe her eyes
As the path forked into surprise
And the end of trail became
Just step one into the game
Long the day stretched on ahead
Hours left for them to tread.
The link below is to an article by Dawn Haney (thank you, Jenny, for sending it to me). It is very well done and immensely relevant.
Take a moment to read it, and perhaps a few more to allow your realities and reactions to have the room they require and deserve. If you are so inclined, leave a comment below and share your thoughts about the article, of the things you’ve found to be helpful, and the realities of balancing activism with self-care.
In these times of rampant overwhelm and maddening injustice — especially if you carry your own wounds and trauma history — may you find the support you need, the awareness you seek, and the way to provide aid to the vulnerable in the pace and manner you can manage.
And may we all, indeed, be the adults kids need.
From the article. Photo by Brooke Anderson.
“Bah,” they taunted. “Your resolutions never last.”
She stewed.
When her twin brothers showed up for their monthly siblings’-dinner, muscles and righteous bravado rippling under too-tight shirts, she knew what they were expecting: Frozen pizza or boxed mac-and-cheese. The usual Candace-can’t-cook stuff.
They sprawled on her couch and let her putter in the kitchen.
“When’s the pizza ready, Sis?” Brian called. “We’re starving.”
She smirked. He and Bobby lectured her alright, but she knew they secretly looked forward to their junkfood fix.
“Oh, no pizza,” she brought out the shot glasses. “Wheatgrass!”
For Friday Fictioneers, August 10, 2018
Photo: Ofir Asif
Rare drops join
To overflow
Silt and mud
On the go
Desert lands
Scoured so
A stream bed
Parched no more.
For the Wits End photo challenge: Moving water
Dedicated to the potential for life that desert rains bring … and to the young souls who were lost in a flash flood earlier this year.
Photo: Inbar Asif
Tucked away in the weald
They heard a lone
Fairy sing
Of the flowers she weaves
And the whispers of leaves
Of old blooms
And new blues
And the elves in the yews.
This post continues the blogging challenge in which Merriam-Webster’s Word of the Day, serves as inspiration a-la the “Daily Prompt.”
Want to join me? Feel free to link to this post on your blog, and/or post a link to your blogpost in the comment section below so others can enjoy it, too. Poetry, photography, short stories, anecdotes: Go for it!
For more visibility, tag your post with #WordOfDayNY, so your post can be searchable.
“Follow” me if you want to receive future prompts, or just pop in when you’re looking for inspiration. Here’s to the fun of writing and our ever-evolving blogging community!
Photo: Smadar Halperin-Epshtein
Eight brown ducks bobbing by
In the shade, under sky
Waiting for humans’ bread
To fall down on their head.
For August photo a day challenge
So the meetings that were called a lie
Had in fact taken place on the sly
And collusion repeatedly denied
Is now admitted as if justified
While a letter obviously dictated
Proves a propaganda calculated.
No question remains
For anyone who has brains
That those who yell out “Fake-news”
Are the ones who perjure and ruse
Just as they who the fact-finders accuse
Are the ones to truth molest and abuse.
This post continues the blogging challenge in which Merriam-Webster’s Word of the Day, serves as inspiration a-la the “Daily Prompt.”
Want to join me? Feel free to link to this post on your blog, and/or post a link to your blogpost in the comment section below so others can enjoy it, too. Poetry, photography, short stories, anecdotes: Go for it!
For more visibility, tag your post with #WordOfDayNY, so your post can be searchable.
“Follow” me if you want to receive future prompts, or just pop in when you’re looking for inspiration. Here’s to the fun of writing and our ever-evolving blogging community!
Photo: Atara Katz
As the stories unfold
Pried from time’s
Stranglehold
Bit by bit
You’ll behold
What the fingers
Of old
Would have seen
Could have told.
For the d’Verse Poets challenge: Unseen Things
Photo: Ofir Asif
For we owe
Them to know
How rows of woe
Not long ago
Came to show
What can grow
If we do not forgo
Those who kowtow
To the lowest of low.
For the Tuesday Photo Challenge: Row
Photo: Dvora Freedman
What did she want in that bottle?
What did the store owner allow?
Did her friend understand why it mattered
And how?
Did her own yellow sandals
That fit only sort of
Used to hang in the window
In a bag from above?
What words did they exchange?
Did the girl smile or sigh?
I look at this photo and wonder
What she had asked to buy.
For V.J.’s Weekly Challenge #10: Conversation
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A community for writers to learn, grow, and connect.
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never judge a girl by her weight
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