Photo: Na’ama Yehuda
I am waiting for you
To come back.
To grab hold
And place me
Against your forehead,
As you adjust the strap.
I am waiting
For you
To return
From where you’d left me
Behind
Or forgot
I might yearn
To be perched
On your brow
Holding firm
Against burn.
For the Lens-Artists Photo Challenge: Waiting
Photo: Na’ama Yehuda
Soft ripples spread
Like ribbons of
Silk
As morning heads
Toward shimmering
Heat.
Note: The photo was taken in Ko Samui, Thailand, on an August morning. It was sublime.
Photo: Martin Adams on Unsplash
She was queen of artifice. The mistress of malicious.
She made rules that made no sense yet claimed to be officious.
There was no way to do right by her. Even flattery was suspicious.
She’d lay down her law with harsh demands. Her punishments were vicious.
“Beware the dragon,” many warned. “For she is capricious.”
Those who did not heed soon realized that her attentions weren’t auspicious.
She was queen of cruel decree. Her requests often lubricious.
They learned to lay low and wait. Salvation would not be expeditious.
But the day came when he arrived, beautiful, seditious,
And turned the draconian,
Propitious.
For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Draconian in 103 words
Photo: Marina Shatskih on Unsplash
All those dreams that he had
As a child
Snug
Under covers
At night,
His tattered teddy
In arms.
His dreams
Parsed out
Into slivers
When
Under stars
At war,
His battered rifle
The only thing
He could
Hug.
For Linda Hill’s SoCS prompt: Dream
There was beauty in the shallows.
The mirror of the skies. The crystalline water in their unabashed reveal. The bottom — old and newer bits together — inviting her to step in and stir the quiet till it rises soft between her toes to momentarily obscure all things.
Opacity reassured her.
Like the enveloping from clouds when they leaned in close in misty acknowledgment, it held reminders:
That life was often muddy.
That clarity was temporary, hard won, and easily disrupted.
That fog spread quickly and lifted slowly, leaving damp disorientation in its wake.
That even shallows could reflect upended bowls of heaven and earth.
As if it heard, the water summoned her and she stepped into the silt. Wavelets nipped at her ankles, snapping cold against her skin.
Her toes disappeared, and she thought how apt it was to have her foundation hidden underneath a swirl of settling.
She breathed and closed her eyes and stilled and became one with the water, one with the sediment of time and the detritus of being.
Slowly, both the lake and her mind cleared.
She heard her spirit whistle on the wind.
Photo: Inbar Asif
Down the slippery slope
Of icy past
And current treachery
They go,
Balancing precariously
On the edge of
What to do
With what they know.
For the Tuesday Photo Challenge: Slope
Photo: Na’ama Yehuda
Speed of passage
Matched
By change
Of time.
A City moment
Snatched
By yellow
In its
Prime.
For Cee’s Fun Foto Challenge: Yellow
Photo: Na’ama Yehuda
Yellowed gold
Touching white
Lighting day
Glinting night.
Perfect fingers
Splayed bold
Last hurrah
Before cold.
For Dawn’s Festival of Leaves
Photo: Monika Grabkowska on Unsplash
She looked so fraught
I thought she fought
For what she brought.
She apparently did not
But then still she almost forgot
To tell me of some fish she’d caught
And how distraught
The worms she bought
Were at the thought
That she decided that she ought
Just put potatoes
In the pot.
For Linda Hill’s SoCS challenge: “ght”
Photo: Hongmei Zhao on Unsplash
In the blackest night
She woke
To hear the flutter of her
Heart
Singing melodies of courage
In her ears.
As the hours ticked
Long seconds full of
Ink,
And stretched worries
She had long learned how to
Blink,
She held on to
Wisps of memories
Mirrored in her unshed
Tears,
And recalled the echoes
Of abandon
In the giggles
Of her very early
Years.
For the dVerse Poetics challenge: Black
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Na'ama Yehuda 
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