Photo: Osnat Halperin-Barlev
Walk with me
Into nature
Where the fresh air
Flows through.
Walk with me
As we shelter
Under skies
Me, and you.
Walk with me
Hand in hand
Muddy boots
Flowers, too.
Let us breathe
And connect
With everything
That is true.
For the Tuesday photo challenge: Connect
Photo: Charlie Hammond on Unsplash
I believe the magic
That is people,
And the unremitting wonder
That is found
Undaunted
In their hearts.
I believe the small,
Persistent,
Staunch soul rumble
That continues
Shaken but unfailing
To grow
Through the hardship,
Making handholds of the worry
All the while.
For the dVerse quadrille challenge: magic
Photo: Na’ama Yehuda
Of all scenes
And joys and sorrows,
Of all the steps
And breaths
And sense,
There is the ebb and flow
And stillness,
That makes this
Movement
My heart’s
Place.
Photo: Franck V. on Unsplash
You are not welcome
Here,
With your
Contaminated fear.
You are not welcome
Here,
With words that hurt
And terms that mean to harm, divert,
Self-aggrandize, and
Smear.
There is a bigger risk
In hate
Than in keeping
Near.
You are not welcome
Here,
If you weaponize worry
To steer
Away from empathy,
Away from truth,
Away from the real challenges we share
As we ride great distances
On this one
Sphere.
Call this by its name.
Not by the rhetoric
Of racist,
Misinforming
Jeer.
Address it not in
Murky swamps
That deliberately
Throw mud into the
Gears.
Humanity is better
Than your insatiable need
To infect the
Atmosphere.
We’re on to you.
We see.
We hear.
We will hold steady to what
Matters.
We support the hardworking, factual and
Compassionately
Sincere.
But you?
You are not welcome
Here.
For Linda Hill’s SoCS writing prompt: Welcome
Photo: Na’ama Yehuda
Small and humble,
It fills bellies,
When there’s no
Choice of grain.
The green leaves,
The tiny fruit,
Pantry for
Times of pain.
For the Sunday Still’s challenge: #Close and #Green
Photo: Martin Adams on Unsplash
She’d appear out of her bed
As if in dream.
An apparition in their kitchen.
A small figure levitating up the stairs
From the nursery,
A flannel nightgown sweeping over the cold floor
And her bare feet.
They might’ve wondered
Why she had become
A somnambulist,
Had they not needed to keep
Any odd thing
Completely clandestine.
So they latched the front door
High,
And kept the very secret
Of her night-walking
Under the covers
Of unspoken sleep.
For the Weekend Writing Prompt: Somnambulist in 78 words
Photo: Smadar Halperin-Epshtein
In the big scale
Of things
Where watershed moments
Froth and fall in
Flush forward,
Each of us but a dot
Drenched in mist
Hoping life
Flows without
A fast-forward.
For the Tuesday Photo Challenge: Scale
Photo: Mads Schmidt Rasmussen on Unsplash
She was always one to cause
Quite a bit of stir
In every entrance,
In the very way the air around
Her every move
Would shift
To agitated waiting,
For something breathless
That was not easily worded
Yet nonetheless remained
Indelibly perceived as
Inescapable.
For the dVerse quadrille poetry challenge: stir
Photo: Zane Lee on Unsplash
“Quite simply,” she said,
“The very times when some in power
Are seeking to perplex you,
Are the times when you best make sure
That you are not at all confused.”
“For when what should be simple
Is deliberately made unclear,
And what’s logical is spun
Cheaply to cost dear,
It ought to signal your eyes
To remain widely open,
And your ears to insist on holding only
To the truth.”
She sighed and touched the blue print
Faded on her arm,
Seared like yesterday
In her heart and mind.
For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Challenge: Perplex in 90 words
Photo: Inbar Asif
There’s a hole in that kettle …
I don’t care, don’t throw it.
There’s a hole it that kettle —
This junk won’t make tea.
I don’t care if it’s holey
That pretty, red kettle,
I don’t care if it’s holey
It’s perfect for me! …
(Yeah, if you noted a bit of reverberation, this is very loosely based on “There’s a hole in the bucket” children’s folk song … ;))
For the Tuesday Photo Challenge: Junk
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