Monthly Archives: August 2020

The orphanage ~ Smita Ray #writephoto

Saltmort hunkered down for a flat stone and skimmed it along the lake. On turning back he scrambled up to the grassy bank, plonked down and cast a glance around. His old ramshackle orphanage stood right ahead of him. Its … Continue reading

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Flux Tree

* Long ago Coyote was walking his way. He came to a hill on which he saw a man cast his eyes out of his head into a Flux Tree. They hung in the branches of the tree until the … Continue reading

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True Blue ~ Jules #writephoto

the generations have come and gone, the stone steps remember each one sunrises brings them light and warmth dusk then welcomes workers home Continue reading at Jules Pens Some Gems

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Soul-gazing

The waters of the earth are heaven’s glass We, in their calm reflection seek our own, And, lost in wonder, think the stars surpass The simple spark we hold of truth unknown. The mind, its logic lost in paradox, Requires … Continue reading

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Worn ~ Di #writephoto

The steps were the same as they had always been, smiling in greeting to all who approached the threshold. Ma took pride in keeping them clean, but the weeds were starting to tease their way through the cracks. The third … Continue reading

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Shared #midnighthaiku

Seeds of life forming Born together, separate A common thread shared

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A love story, part one: The outer edges of poetry ~ Tallis Steelyard

Reblogged from Jim Webster, aka Tallis Steelyard: I wished to tell the story of Hindle Walbarrow. But then I ran into a problem. For it to be at all comprehensible I had to provide all sorts of background and exposition. … Continue reading

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Worn ~ Trent P. McDonald #writephoto

Through the stiff rhythms and the sprinkling of wrong notes, the tune stood out. It wasn’t quite right, but it was very recognizable. But then that last chord, F-A-B, instead of F-A-C, wrong out in all of its wrongness. Timmy … Continue reading

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The House that Fish Built: Connor Cruel Crest…

* The house that Father Fish built was constructed in this way: it had nine compartments from fire place to wall, with each facade made of bronze, standing thirty feet high; it took a wagon team to haul each beam, … Continue reading

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Stairs ~ Balroop Singh #writephoto

At last I am here. Eyes brimming, I look at the stairs, worn by the vagaries of time but flanked with love by Mother Nature. Do you think you could guess my ecstasy? Never. Not even my soul mate could … Continue reading

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