Broken Syllables

WordPress Daily Prompt – Enlighten

I’m reaching through time and space,
From our past to our future,
Clutching strings of words,
Trying to weave them into meaning.
A tapestry of mystery
In every transmission.
Languages of love and loss
Mingling in comfortable confusion.
Searching for enlightenment
Among the broken syllables.

 

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Burn

WordPress Daily Prompt – Expect

As in, I did not expect this to work. I used a first line generator, first line was “Before the day of harmony the trees echo,”

Before the day of harmony the trees echo,
Below the mountainous bellow.
Begging to take cover,
Wild things trample over
Trembling ground;
Giving rise to roaring sound.
Hiding beneath cloudless skies,
Smoke snakes along paths of lies.
Desperate for salvation
We search for causation.
Missing truth among the darkness;
Unfeeling in our catharsis.
Before the day of harmony can return,
The world must first burn.


Please go take a look at The Perfectly Imperfect Bunch! We have some lovely and deep stories this week about writing through pain (or in my case around it). 

Silent

I’ve kind of had pseudo writer’s block lately. I want to write and post stuff but I don’t feel that what I’m writing or posting is all that great. It’s kind of a weird spot to be in. I’m hoping something helps to push me out of it but for the past few days I’ve been very “blah” about it all. Here’s a little something for the daily prompt, brave. 

WordPress Daily Prompt – Brave

I am not a brave person.

I am scared of roller coasters

And the dark

And silence.

But we’ve been silent

For so many years now.

I’m less afraid

Of the quiet

And more afraid of the sound.

Passing Through

WordPress Daily Prompt – Ascend

We’re all just passing through.
Dropping our bodies at the door
As we search for more.

Show me your soul,
Stand for me completely bare,
It’s all that matters here.

We’re all just passing through.
Picking flowers on the shore
As we wait for more.

Give me your hand,
Don’t leave my spirit alone,
It’s all we have to go on.

We’re all just passing through.
In a moment we’ll no longer be
So, please, just stand with me.


As always, go check out The Perfectly Imperfect Bunch!

It’s Only April

WordPress Daily Prompt – Cloaked

The darkness cloaks some bullshit.

Mari stared at the paper.

The darkness cloaks some bullshit. There’s some fucking noise outside, a siren. It’s all bullshit.

She pressed her temples. She really didn’t want to fail this student but he had turned in papers like this all year. This was shaping up to be the most ridiculous one yet.

The darkness cloaks some bullshit. There’s some fucking noise outside, a siren. It’s all bullshit. The jackass took off through the back door about an hour ago. It took the god damn cops an hour to get here.

“Jesus, I’m going to need some wine.” Mari had sat this particular student down just a week ago and explained that he really needed to knock it out of the park on this paper. They made a deal that if he could make an A she would pass him in the class. He knew the material and Mari knew he could pass if made the effort but the effort seemed to be completely lost on him.

The darkness cloaks some bullshit. There’s some fucking noise outside, a siren. It’s all bullshit. The jackass took off through the back door about an hour ago. It took the god damn cops an hour to get here.  I’m trying to tell them to turn off the god damn siren. Little bro is in the back sleeping. Somehow I’m threatening and now I’m face down in the mud with some fat white fuck breathing down my neck about Miranda rights. 

Mari poured two glasses worth of a red blend into her glass. “Ok, let’s power through. This is the last one.”

The darkness cloaks some bullshit. There’s some fucking noise outside, a siren. It’s all bullshit. The jackass took off through the back door about an hour ago. It took the god damn cops an hour to get here.  I’m trying to tell them to turn off the god damn siren. Little bro is in the back sleeping. Somehow I’m threatening and now I’m face down in the mud with some fat white fuck breathing down my neck about Miranda rights. I’m trying to tell them it wasn’t me. Now little bro is awake and his footsteps are covered in fucking blood. Wanna see cops get real? Show them a four year old with bloody fucking footsteps. I tell them the jackass took off and who knows where he got to since it took them a god damn hour to get here. Little bro is crying in the backseat but they won’t let me sit with him because they want my alibi. Fuck them, I work two jobs and they can call my bosses to verify. Fat fucks. Little bro keeps asking why and you know what? I don’t fucking know. But I graduate this spring and I’m already eighteen. Thank fucking god, or whatever, mom had a will that named me legal guardian. Just give me an A Ms. Vargas. It’s been a long fucking year and it’s only April. 


Don’t forget to head over to our collaboration blog, The Perfectly Imperfect Bunch! We have beautiful poetry and wonderful insights to writing it this week

Millie’s Gone

WordPress Daily Prompt – Fraud

Moira packed each picture away carefully. Eventually Levee Harolds family would want some things but boxes of wedding pictures featuring his soon to be missing widow? Those weren’t likely to be the best souvenirs of his life. There would be some story about sweet Moira Harolds spinning out of control in the wake of her husband’s death, perhaps she would disappear to begin another life. Those were details that the former Mrs. Harolds didn’t have to bother with.

No, the only concern Moira had was packing boxes that would be eventually picked up by someone and her new packet of papers.

Moira ran a thumb over a silver and gold frame holding a particularly stereotypical wedding shot of her and her now deceased husband. When she looked at it through the eyes of her new persona, one Vera Milguy, she felt little. There was perhaps a twinge of sadness for the former Mrs. Harolds, after all Vera Milguy wasn’t a complete monster.

Beyond that though there was something else brewing. A feeling that neither Moira nor Vera could quite place. A deep unsettling sadness was threatening to take hold.

“Maybe it’s better to set these to the side for now.” The woman dropped the frame back onto the soft carpeted floor and stretched. The former Mrs. Harolds had been quite sentimental. It made sorting through things a chore. None the less it was something that had to be done in some capacity. She smiled to herself as she thought of the guidebook. People would shit themselves if they knew there was a guidebook. 

Crossing the room she surveyed the few things left on the walls. Two large paintings, a collection of ornate masks and a rather decorative full length mirror. The former Mrs. Harolds had fine tastes, perhaps Vera could learn a thing or two from her. She turned in front of the mirror letting her black skirt swirl around her waist.

For a second she caught sight of herself, giggling like a child as her curls bounced around her shoulders. Without warning that deep unsettling grief leapt from the darkness and took hold of the woman.

She struggled to understand who stared back at her from the mirror. Was it the former Mrs. Harolds? Her new prospect Vera Milguy? Perhaps it was any one of the many others.

No, the blue eyes swimming in tears reached even further back. Her lips twitched and trembled as the sobs threatened to overflow. There was no longer a woman crying in her reflection but a child, the timid and shy Millie.

Without thinking she lifted a finger to her lips and bit it gently, it did little calm her but the pressure satisfied a nervous tick Millie had nursed since she was a toddler. Sweet Millie was filling with sorrow over the passing of Mr. Harolds. She was filled with fear over the path life was taking. The small timid Millie wanted to run home and cry in her mother’s arms.

“No.” It wasn’t the former Mrs. Harolds or Vera who spoke. “No!” Millie, a grown woman now, stared at herself with fists clenched. “Millie’s gone! Do you hear me! She died with her love when her father shot him the head!”

With force that surprised every persona she’d ever taken on, Millie slammed her fist into the delicate glass sending shards flying around her. The cracking and crashing echoed through the hallways followed by the clip of Vera Milguy’s high heels. Blood dripped from her bruised knuckles as she slammed the front door behind her.

“It’s better this way.”

Wrong Direction

Do you remember the days
When we’d hang off the bed?
Upside down, until the blood
Rushed to our heads?
We’d watch the world,
Through pulsing red tinted glasses.
Everything looked so different
When you were watching it
From the wrong direction.

When we’d hide from everyone,
Lost in our own private conversations?
We were always worlds apart,
Yet somehow, we ended up in each other’s arms.
Do you remember all my secrets?
Like the ones we whispered in the dark,
So not even the creeping wind could hear?
Do you carry them gently in your heart?
Do you crush them in the palm of your hand?

I saw you yesterday;
Hands in your pockets,
Watching the ground,
Guarding your bleeding heart
And speaking softly to my soul.
I started to ask you,
But you were heading off.
I couldn’t help but feel
It was the wrong direction.


Go check out The Perfectly Imperfect Bunch!