Photo: Amitai Asif
Water-worn by the ages
By the floods
By the rain,
Time has carved
Eras’ layers
Through the rock
Grain by grain.
Scars of years
Line the wadi
To funnel life –
None in vain.
For The Tuesday Photo Challenge
Age Value
Trauma and Development
Roseate
Photo: Philip Coons
Optimistic in nature
Does not mean roseate
For reality may
Introduce caveat
Of the need to remember
Many times of ill fate
While never forgetting
The good we can create.
Merriam-Webster’s word for June 10, 2018:
Roseate
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!
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Shenanigan
Photo by Tookapic on Pexels.com
A trick elicits grins by design
But the smirks are clear sign
Of those who won’t admit
The high cost of deceit.
Merriam-Webster’s word for June 9, 2018:
Shenanigan
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!
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Kind of Famous
Photo: Dvora Freedman
“I’ll be famous,” she said, twirling and eyeing her reflection in the mirror. She was wearing a particularly twirl-worthy skirt and a shiny pair of sandals.
“Yep, famous,” she repeated with finality. She spun a few more times then stopped mid-turn to face me. “Do you know what famous means?”
I raised an eyebrow in half-query, half-invitation. Children’s explanations are immensely more informing than anything I might attempt to guess at.
“It means everybody knows you and everybody likes you a lot.”
“It does?” I lent a slight undulation to my voice in what I hoped was just a smidge of challenge for the second part.
She’s a perceptive little one. She caught it. Paused. Frowned. Pursed her lips and pursed them again in front of the mirror to inspect the effect. “Well, everybody knows famous people,” she countered and puckered her lips a few more times to make a point. “But … maybe not everybody likes them?”
I smiled and raised my eyebrow again.
She straightened and crossed the room to lean into me. “Because some famous people can be bad?”
I wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Some. Sometimes people get famous but not for very good things.”
She nodded into my side. “Like Hitler and … you know?”
“Yes. Hitler … and some other people … are known for doing very very bad things.”
“I don’t want to be that kind of famous.”
I gave her a squeeze. “I understand. I wouldn’t worry … You are nothing like that … You have a beautiful, loving, caring heart. It’s not a bad thing to want to be famous. Most famous people aren’t bad. Most people in general aren’t bad. Famous and not famous ones.”
She leaned into me a moment longer. She knows hardship. Young as she is, the pain of cruel actions isn’t abstract to her.
I took a deep breath to remind her she was safe. She followed. Took another. Shook the pensive worry off and looked down into her magnificently twirl-worthy skirt.
“Well,” she stood and made a quick half-turn, watching the edges of the fabric lift and roil and dance and fly. “I’ll be the good kind of famous.” She walked back to the full-length mirror to reinspect her reflection. “The beautiful heart kind …”
For The Daily Post
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“Make Me Disappear”
Photo: Smadar Halperin-Epshtein
“Make me disappear,” she said,
As her eyes pleaded to be seen.
“I don’t care anymore,” she said,
As her voice begged to be heard.
The bruises on her skin long faded
But the wounding in her heart remained
Unhealed
Unchanged.
“I want to not be anymore,” she said.
But it was pain and the isolating loss of shame
She needed to erase,
Not life itself.
For The Daily Post
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Care to Observe
Photo: Osnat Halperin-Barlev
It is not
The bruisers
Who denote
Importance
For what one should
Obey or discern.
It is the smallest
And the vulnerable
Who call
True attention
To the biggest
Issues
Left to tend.
For The Daily Post
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Awaken
Photo: Ofir Asif
Awaken to what never should have
Taken place,
Yet had.
The millions
Whose lives were snuffed by calculated horror
Tattooed hate,
Enslavement, and
Smoky clouds.
Remember it,
Because such evil
Should not be allowed,
And yet there are the voices
Still denying.
There are those
Who would repeat,
Who relish violence and
Lament “not finishing the job.”
Awaken,
To what never should have
Taken place.
Yet had.
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Fickle Fury
Photo: Ofir Asif
In the furor of fury
Frothing rage
At the truth,
Do not let floods
Form furrows
In foundations of sooth.
Let the foam
Ferry falsehoods
Like the filth film
From swamps,
And find footholds
In facts
Against fear flashing
Tromps.
For The Daily Post
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For The Long Haul
Photo: Dvora Freedman
In places too many
On this one blue-green ball,
Children haul
More than the weight of firewood
On their backs,
Big or small.
Sorrow, loss, illness, agony
Needs unmet
Unheard calls …
Yet they are all
Our children,
Their pain is our
Shortfall.
They are worthy of better:
In the now
For the future
For humanity’s long haul.
For The Daily Post
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Churn and Roil
Photo: Atara Katz
In the winds
Of turmoil,
Hold on tight
Don’t recoil.
For all change,
Churn and roil,
Shapes the earth
Feeds the soil.
For The Daily Post
Na'ama Yehuda 
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