Photo: Ofir Asif
Walk about
The quiet earth
Where water used
To rush.
Meander in
The silent dunes
That nestle elder
Paths.
Wander into
Times long past
That witnessed nature’s
Wrath,
And let the calm
Like ancient balm
Seep through your
Whole
Into your soul,
To nourish you
With hush.
For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Meander in 47 words
Photo: Ofir Asif
Note: On the eve of Holocaust Remembrance Day, when we mourn so many lost to deliberate ugliness that nurtured systemic cruelty and harm … and when some try to deepen horrors by claiming the suffering hadn’t even happened … May we find a path out of hate and violence, and away from whatever catchy slogans used to justify a pseudo-superiority. For in reality, we are all one, and the terror of racism leaves none of us unharmed.
For Linda’s One Liner Wednesday
Photo: Stephen Paris on Pexels.com
It has long lain
In limbo,
All voices ebbed
Into dust.
As silent letters
On chalkboard,
Watch the desks
Left to rust.
At one time
Children chanted,
Poems rose
Learned by heart.
But they’d grown
And time hastened.
School-house days
Did not last.
Now it sits,
Heart quite emptied,
And still waits
For the past.
For the dVerse Challenge: Limbo
Photo: Smadar Halperin-Epshtein
Don’t be fooled,
It is in service
And it is blessed
By the Gods.
It will move
In a moment,
And carry all
In its hold.
In modern days
Muddy tires
Let legs be rested
Aboard.
No one here
Takes for granted
Improvement
Since days of old.
For the Tuesday Photo Challenge: Technology
Photo: Smadar Halperin-Epshtein
Windows blink
Sun and shade.
Emptied glass
Peers ahead.
While the dome,
Ivy wrought,
Towers time
Boggles thought.
For Travel with Intent’s One Word Sunday: Tower
Photo: Renato Mu on Pexels.com
They were never meant to be
Accepted.
They were never meant
To be
Approved,
Or approved of.
Cast-offs,
They were the anathema
To all some saw as
Civil
Or normative
Or worthy of.
They were cursed
By those of privilege,
Who for added
Privations
Then denounced them
As being
Incapable of
Love.
For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Anathema in 52 words
Photo: Na’ama Yehuda
Ancient stone
Not disowned
By old time’s
Marching on.
Newer walls
Chaperone
To contain
Buddha’s throne,
And only the peak’s
Crumbling bones
Tell of years
Now long
Gone.
For the Wits-End Weekly Photo Challenge: Decay
“We’ve come a long way from small children crawling under looms,” the proprietor boomed, arm sweeping proudly across the antique refurbished mill.
The group of portly men nodded sagely.
One of them patted a balding pate, florid face sweating in tailored wool. He was gratified to see another man masking a yawn.
The two-hour Textile Investors Tour satisfied requirements for business expenses, but the real draw of the area was a manicured golf course, good wine cellars, and a particularly discreet hotel concierge.
Too bad, the balding man thought to himself. A few crawling kids would’ve been right fine.
For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers
Photo: Amitai Asif
No mortar
No wheel
No motors to wield,
Yet time
And the elements
Toppled not what they’d built.
The wonder, the magic,
The near perfect
Craftsmanship:
Machu Picchu
Continues
To hold awe
In its grip.
For the Tuesday Photo Challenge: Wonder
Photo: Smadar Halperin-Ephstein
What lesson does history tell
Of shattered bits,
And scratched on bells?
Can peals of old
Be heard
Be said
So we not ruin
What’s ahead?
For the Lens-Artists Photo Challenge: History
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