(Photo: Ben Rosett on Unsplash)
There was not much to do but wait.
And hope.
The lots were cast,
Though she had very little trust
In such.
It was not for her
To decide.
Now it was just,
The drip of minutes
Through childhood’s hourglass.
Dreams slowly fraying
Into dust,
While growing worries,
Poke trembling shoots
Into her heart.
Will this unknown,
Chosen for her
Husband,
Will he be
Kind?
For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Challenge: unknown in 65 words
(Photo by De an Sun on Unsplash)
She would have gone to bed
And let the mess wait
For the morning,
Or the following
Millennia,
Had it not been for voices
That still
Echoed
From her past
To smudge shame
Onto her
Present.
She grabbed the mop
And filled the pail.
For the dVerse poetry quadrille challenge: smudge
(Photo: Erol Ahmed on Unsplash)
She did not require much notice for her travels.
Her bags were packed. All papers drawn. There was enough of any currency she needed.
More than enough of
All the hopes.
Distance was not an issue. Time, however, sometimes was. And space.
There wasn’t always sufficient space.
To take the journey.
From here.
To as much as a step
Beyond.
Still, the need persisted.
It had to. For she was, in many ways,
Displaced.
In her own mind.
From the galaxy of dreams,
That could in a drop of a hat,
Respond.
For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Galaxy in 92 words
(Photo: Brett Jordan on Unsplash)
There had to be a way
To be heard,
Without becoming
What they fought
Against.
They refused to condone
Violence,
Hate,
Or putting others down
To make a point.
Instead,
They turned up
A crescendo
Of truths.
For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Crescendo in 37 words
(Photo: Owen Vangioni on Unsplash)
It wasn’t that
Which killed the cat.
Not inquisitiveness in predawn
Hours
When any decent mind
Would sleep.
Not curiosity about rustling shopping bags
Left
Fending for themselves
Whilst humans fetch more from
The car.
But urgent greed
To speed
Through
All nine lives.
For the dVerse quadrille poetry challenge: curiosity
(Photo: Johnny Cohen on Unsplash)
The sound began
A whisper,
Only to crescendo to
A cry
That made the very
Heart
Howl
In eerie
Resonance
Of pain.
Familiar
Again.
For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Eerie in 24 words
(Photo: Rainer Krienke on Unsplash)
There is a scar ripped open
In the canyon
Of this wound.
Where sorrow has wound time
Around grief tighter than
Some
Assumed.
There are still pools
Of tears
Repeatedly
Bled
As future holds
Its breath.
To broken hearts
Peace has not
Come yet.
For the dVerse quadrille poetry challenge: wound
(Photo: Lucas Myers on Unsplash)
There was little in their heart
But ice
And calculated cruelty.
A wanton abuse of
Power.
Ribald actions of
A misery intended
To inflict.
The wreck they left
Of any who had
Crossed them,
Threatened to hollow
Even the hardiest
Protest.
And yet,
There were still some
Whose souls
Would not give in
To ugly.
Whose light
Resisted.
Insisted.
Persisted.
For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: wanton in 60 words
(Photo: Cameron Stow on Unsplash)
They said she was wanton.
That from a child she’s been, capricious.
Her mom would sigh. Her father, frown.
They loathed how she refused to bow.
Ungovernable. Resisting.
She was, to them,
A moral stain.
A failure
In contrition.
They had stopped speaking to her
Till she had learned submission.
The wayward daughter of the tribe.
The one who lost
Her compass.
Only they none of them knew
That,
In shunned space,
She finally
Found
Life scrumptious.
For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: wayward in 77 words
It rained. It hailed. It stormed. It flooded.
It none of it mattered.
They laughed. They sang. They danced. They huddled.
They had a chance to reconnect.
In all the ways that mattered, and in some they hadn’t quite dared hope for, yet came true.
Oh, they were cold. And after a time, hungry.
But still the stories flowed. The tears, sometimes. The laughter. Oh, the laughter!
Best of all, the others who would otherwise pass by,
Who would pass judgment,
Did not.
Because the weather
Protective in its dreary wetness
Let them be.
Let them love.
Made it perfect.
For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers
Photo prompt: © Dale Rogerson
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