Photo: Inbar Asif
He did not know how to play
But they knew he’d be
Okay.
He was scared of every thing
But they knew that he was
King.
He had to learn life from scratch
But they knew they’d love him
Much.
He’s the sweetest boy there is
Even unsure how to
Please.
And whether he’s a bit autistic
His kind of love is
Simplistic.
He is now a happy boy
Who gets his life to
Enjoy.
For the Sunday Stills Challenge: Pets
Photo: Na’ama Yehuda
Too soon the colors
Blazing on the trees
And paths
And drains
And roofs of cars
Would calm,
And ground
And street
And city parks
Will match the clouds in
Moody monochrome.
For the Lens-Artists challenge: Monochrome
Photo: Herrmann Stamm on Unsplash
He does not like the new way the kitchen’s been done.
He does not like the curtains she’d chosen.
He cares naught for the way she turned the couch around
Or how she leaves the garage door open.
He will never get used to the stuff on her nails.
He detests hosting all of those book clubs.
He’s did not want his Foosball exiled downstairs
Or pink bottles to take over the bathtub.
Some days he thinks it had been better before
She showed up to give life a stir,
But she does make him laugh and he cannot ignore
The fact that he’s just nuts about her.
For Linda Hill’s SoCS prompt: Nuts
Photo: Smadar Halperin-Epshtein
He saw the gnarled trunk and the orbs
Round
And red
And green,
Undulating in the breeze that
Caressed his cheeks and flipped the end
Of his shirt up
Cool
On his tummy
When he ran.
He heard the crunch of grass-blades
Succulent
Under the smooth soles of
His shoes,
Each step sinking slightly into the
Soft
Saturated
Ground.
The thump of apple
Fallen
Filled his ears,
Alongside his own breath
Fast,
Excited
In his chest,
And the sound of his family
Drumming apples
Into their
Rustling plastic bags
And creaky wooden crates
And pinging metal pail.
He smelled the crushed grass,
The too-sweet scent of slightly
Rotting apples
On damp ground,
And a whiff of the caramel
That promised
One on a stick
For later on.
He stretched
To reach
Around the fruit,
The sky in his eyes and
The taste of last year’s
Treat
Faint and candied
On his
Tongue.
For the dVerse challenge: senses
Photo: Na’ama Yehuda
Ah, the curve of the coast
Leaning into
Itself,
Like a child’s
Sleepy head
Her weight slowly
Transferred.
Ah, the breath of the sea
Curling wave after
Wave.
A warm exhale
On your neck,
Child’s rest clearly
Preferred.
For the Tuesday Photo Challenge: Coast
Photo: Smadar Halperin-Epshtein
Until you manage to get
Past the jagged edges
Of life’s cliff,
You’ll dream of rivers
Soothing through
The valleys
Of What If.
Till then you’ll hold on
To old anchors
That keep you
Safe from doom,
And luxuriate only
In dreams of
Rappelling out
Of your fear’s womb.
For the Word of the Day Challenge: Jagged
Photo: Na’ama Yehuda
They stand together
Fully dressed
Their branches interlaced.
The streetlight hugged between them
Like a child
Held in embrace.
Note: all year long these two trees appear almost indistinguishable. Then comes foliage … and with it a different kind of double take for the glory people see.
For the Lens-Artists Challenge: Seeing double
Photo: A. Asif
In twilight we live.
In twilight we love.
In edges of morning
And evening
We strive
To become
What we hoped
We could master
As we have
Let the sun
Roll itself into
Night and
Rise the moon
To the dreams
We sleep of.
For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Twilight in 44 words
Photo: Kadri Vosumae on Pexels.com
“Do you know?” she asked,
Ankles deep in gold leaves.
“Do you know what the earth
meditates upon in autumn?”
“Ask the acorns,” he said.
“Query the roots of the trees.”
“Would they not,” she returned,
“Tell only their thoughts?
Would they hear the earth’s song
Over that of their seed?”
“Ask the squirrels, then,” he sighed
Rake in hand, a wind urging
His work to proceed.
“Or the sky, or the clouds
Or your own heart
Beneath that old tweed.
Ask the earth
As it speaks to the autumn,
While the soles of your feet
Fill these bags
Top to bottom.”
For dVerse Tuesday Poetic: the question as poetry
Photo: Na’ama Yehuda
The gray marble
Supports
With leisured rich
Array
The carved squares
And the luxuriating
Pebbled
Head in
Golden display.
Note: The photo was taken at Wat Pho, The Temple of the Reclining Buddha, in Bangkok, Thailand. The pebbled bits represent a small part of the ‘hair’ of the massive Buddha statue. The textures and contrasts of the surfaces were what caught my eye and so the angle of the photo is deliberately ambiguous.
For Cee’s Fun Foto Challenge: Textures
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