Quintessential NYC

NYPD SmadarHalperinEpshtein

Photo: Smadar Halperin-Epshtein

 

There’s much more to New York City

Than the bustle of Times Square

But “The Crossroads of the World” is quite likely

Recognizable anywhere.

Even the New York Police Department

Is fittingly lit in neon lights

Its bold, large letters dwarfed by billboards

That chase the day into the night.

 

 

For the A Photo A Week Challenge

 

Opportune – New Blogging Challenge

This post begins what I’m trying on as a new twist on an old idea — I will be utilizing Merriam-Webster’s lovely Word of the Day, as my (hopefully daily) inspiration a-la the “Daily Prompt.”

Miss The Daily Post and want to join me in this experiment? 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. 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!

Merriam-Webster’s word for June 3, 2018:

Opportune

 

Old door Turkey OsnatHalperinBarlev

Photo: Osnat Halperin-Barlev

 

If one door

Has shut

On a path

Not yet over,

Opportune ways

May become

The future’s

Treasure trover.

 

 

For Merriam-Webster Word of the Day

More Than Afterthought

Hike OfirAsif

Photo: Ofir Asif

 

As good things end

And dear friends

Bid farewell,

Sweet and sorrow mix

Into the heart

And air

For things that will no longer be

And all to be remembered,

And for the many wonders

That will continue life

Just as the soul

Intended.

 

Dedicated with gratitude to all at the Daily Post, on their last day of The Daily Prompts, and the last week of the Weekly Photo Challenge, which along with the Community Pool and First Friday, are closing shop after 7.5 years. I wish them all much success in their future blog-ventures!

 

For The Daily Post

Broken Whole

grindstone base AtaraKatz

Photo: Atara Katz

 

As the cracked places show

Marks of toil

Disavowed

And the grooves of grain passed

Whisper tales of

Repast

Broken pieces reflect

Wholeness more than

Regret.

 

 

For The Daily Post

In Memorial

Keyed-bugle-Bersaglierhorn

Photo: Bugler.com

 

As salutes recoil

And bugles call

May hearts recall

The arms emptied

And the lives ended

For freedoms defended

As sorrows entwine

With honor defined.

 

 

For The Daily Post

Kind of Famous

Rose DvoraFreedman

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

Lookalike

a walk SmadarHalperinEpshtein

Photo: Smadar Halperin-Epshtein

 

“How to tell them apart?”

Asked some who’d seen them together

In all kinds of weather.

“Why try?”

Those who knew them replied.

“They are two of a kind,

One older in body

The other in mind.

One father, one son,

Always two, never one.

One sighted, one blind,

They live life, intertwined.”

 

 

 

For The Daily Post

Antiquated

cathedral SmadarHalperinEpshtein

Photo: Smadar Halperin-Epshtein

 

Now in the antiquated, hollowed space,

Prayers no longer have to brace

Against an aged, leaded grace.

Even as wall and ceiling hold

Cold memories of gilded old

And toil of many, still untold,

Awed orison can freely rise

Released from threat of long demise,

Through open air into the skies.

 

 

 

 

For The Daily Post

Guilty Faced

white dog AmitaiAsif

Photo: Amitai Asif

 

The tail wagged a welcome and the tongue lolled excitement, but the head swiveled back to the mess.

Guilty faced.

A chewed up slipper lay dead by the remnants of the morning’s newspaper.

The throw from the couch draped itself over spilled dog food, one corner deep at drink from the water bowl.

Wet soil from the tipped over planter paw-printed itself on the floor, the forbidden-to-jump-on cream-colored loveseat, the rug.

The pooch looked around as if to find another culprit.

He yipped hopefully. Maybe you didn’t see …?

When subterfuge failed, the penitent tucked tail and proceeded to ‘hide’ behind the sheer curtain.

A moment passed.

A nose peeked out, a rueful paw over one eye.

“Are you maybe not mad anymore, person of mine?”

 

 

For The Daily Post