Write Photo 10/4

Rocks and the ankles of fragile women; obstacles the ocean must break. These waves scream on approach, all foam and gnashing jaws.

Amber eyes aglow against purple skies, beset concrete brows and permanent growls. No, the ocean sees, intimidation must be quelled.

It has no choice but to settle and whittle. Slowly it carves away that which once was, pulling it out to the deep.

Slow lines hollow into caverns, places steeped in crystalline mystery. While the water gathers, quietly sabotaging steady feet.

We forget the what the water promises to keep. As we watch colossus fall, we wonder if she ever stood at all.

I’ve seen some people I follow participating in this and I’ve been meaning to check it out. I saw this weeks photo and thought it was just so stunning. But I know I’m kind of late!



My head is a balloon floating from a child’s hand. The bed, beeping machines, city streets with colonies of feet fall out of focus below me. I’ve never been much a believer in heaven or hell but beyond the clouds there exists a veil. It waves me forward, a welcoming call.

Oh but I can feel the child like tug after all. My balloon head fills with lead, plummeting, it lands squarely against the bed.

Perhaps it’s a bit too loaded, this moment they allude to in death. The pressure to ascend just right, or be doomed to plummet into the hand of a mad man, is enough to drive one from sanity.

The nurse slips a round or two into my IV. I never truly see her. My mind shuffles like channels over the TV, all white noise and infomercial pleas.

For the briefest of seconds a signal flickers. Sensations flood my mind, driving me quickly into overtime. Between the thrashes and splashes the nurse stands stoic, medicine at the ready.

I don’t say much, my tongue operates like the finest mush, but the nurse with her ruby smile assures me. She pats my hair and caresses my arm.

“Don’t worry dear, I’ve got the cure right here.”



The Subtlety of Dying (Repost)

This was originally posted in Sept 2017. I was working on something else that’s been floating around my head and started thinking about this. The prompt at the time was thorny, the RDP prompt today is brace

What did it feel like?
Dying I mean?
Was it cold?
Or wet?
Kind of like being born again?
Was it light,
Or dark?
Or maybe a bit of both?
Did you know then,
When it happened I mean?
Did you see God?
Heaven and Hell?
Or was it just space and time,
All melding together in one?

The sweet soul gives a wispy smile,
Dying, her voice echoes,
Well, I do remember that well.
Momma told us it would be ok,
It wouldn’t hurt at all.
But it was kinda like falling,
Your stomach flies to your throat
And down to your toes,
Except it’s all at once.
Then you land,
And it’s kinda like landing
In your grandmother’s old roses,
When you fly over the handlebars
For the very first time.
It’s all excitement and adrenaline.
That is until you land,
Then it’s kinda thorny.