Rainbow Shafts/Evoke

WordPress Daily Prompt – Evoke

Rainbow shafts falling from above,
Reflecting through a prism,
Evoke memories of your love.
Your light shatters like a bullet through glass,
Splashing over the old wood floor
Of the aisle we tried to make it down.

I also can not get enough of this ….


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Funnel Clouds and Silence

Word dump writing attempt, prompt – WordPress Daily Prompt – Funnel

Music of choice: Artist – Balmorhea – no specific song or album, just listening to them on Spotify.

Funnel.

Funnel clouds.

I’m from tornado country.

When I was growing up it would rain all winter, cold shocking rain that pierced your skin when it hit. When spring came the rain didn’t stop, it just warmed up but brought with it heavy downpours and storms.

Try explaining tornado sirens aka repurposed air raid sirens to people who have never had to worry about them before.

Or why the yellow sky sets me on edge.

But the purpling blue cloud of a man descending on our skyline doesn’t.

People seem to forget how quiet it is …

Right before the storm.

That’s not a saying just because, it’s true.

The birds know.

Beasts know.

When that funnel hits the ground …

They’ve been telling you.

It’s the same with all disasters, earthquakes …

Almost with human made ones too.

Heartbreak.

The silence almost always precedes it.

Hits to the gut, the legs, the back …

There was always unimaginable noise

Yelling, screaming …

Then silence.

Or at least a call for it, “shut up!”

The universe begs us to be quiet.

Listen.

There will be plenty of noise when that funnel cloud hits the ground.

It sounds like a freight train, rumbling everything around.

Walls start crumbling …

When I was in school they pretended that having us sit in the hall with our heads covered and our asses in the air would protect us.

It’s ironic that it’s almost the same position you end up in when life’s noise becomes too much.

On the ground.

Hands over your head.

After all, your most precious commodity is your brain.

You can break your spine,

Lose your legs,

Never walk again.

But as long as you can still think,

As long as you can still reach for that silence.

Understand.

My 10 minutes are up.


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Songs of the Lonely

“The lunatic is on the grass …”

Picture and a poem, what a treat neither have anything to do with actual treats though.

Picture day 2 of 365 is here.

Songs of the lonely
Coming through.
Tears on parade
With mascara running down their face.
Hands shoved into pockets,
Coats turned up to the wind,
As the band marches by
With armies of aching hearts
At their side.
Well look at us now,
What have we done?
Spinning, spinning,
The band marches on.
Brass and bracket,
Drum corp beats,
Perfect harmonies
For songs of the lonely,
Passing each other in the street.


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Here’s To The End

WordPress Daily Prompt – Finally

Today ends what I’ve perceived as my roughly 2 day pity party.

Life is hard sometimes, everyone has shit they go through, things they have to battle. If you’re truly lucky you don’t have to walk those paths alone, you get to walk them with people you care about, who care about you, and will stick there with you through it.

Can we really judge people for jumping ship though? Sometimes what other’s are going through is just too much. Or maybe it’s far too heavy to bear in addition to the load you already carry.

We want to believe that people should be there for us no matter what. We want to believe that they should wait for us.

Truthfully that’s too high of an expectation. Not everyone understands and not everyone has the want to understand.

That’s ok.

At the end of the day we can’t control other’s, only ourselves and our reactions.

I can’t will someone to accept the long period it took me to come out of the dark. I couldn’t push someone to put their life on hold so I could push them away while I drowned.

I can’t fault someone who chooses to see that situation for what it is and steps back.

Life is funny.

It gives you what you wish for in the most surprising ways and at the most awkward times but it ensures that you learn and grow.

At the end of the day our memories are all we have and our perception will always be our reality. We can’t change that for other people, only ourselves, and we have to make peace with the decisions we made in the heat of the moment. Maybe you regret them but you can’t change them, you can only learn from those moments and change going forward.

And that’s ok too.

So here’s to the end of the year and the beginning of another.

Little Doll

WordPress Daily Prompt – Torn

When I was young,
Wandering the French Quarter,
I picked up a little doll.
It was straw,
Scraps of fabric sewn,
Haphazardly strewn,
Over my little loves eyes.
Then I met you,
The music in my soul.
The doll grew old.
We were young,
Self narrating stories meant for two.
Our love grew blue
Like jazz on a rainy day
Or soul songs in a minor key.
The little doll,
Rife with Orleans memories,
Became a hated thing.
In blind passion
I ripped and tore,
Never realizing it held my score.
Now I’m torn,
Shreds of skin and bone,
Hanging bare.
Finally you’re home.
What’s the matter dear?
Are you scared?
Am I not beautiful enough
With my haphazardly strewn skin
Sewn over my eyes?


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Spinning, Spinning, Move … Get Out The Way

Stream of Consciousness Writing Attempt – Prompt – Compass (because wordpress said so).

Music of choice: A Grave Mistake: The Lore Variations by Chad Lawson

But first, I have to get Ludacris Move Bitch out of my head *set start time back 4 minutes*

Whatever happened to Mystikal? Is he still alive?

Ok, now that I got Luda out of my system *oh shit, my oven’s still on*

Ok, now back to Sir Lawson and this timed stream of consciousness writing.

Compass.

I had an old compass when I was little. I think I dug it out of my great grandfather’s things after he passed. It was old and rusted, the little red dial never functioned right. Sometimes it would just spin around and around. I took it in the woods once, on a boy scout camping trip … yes I’m a girl, no I wasn’t a Boy Scout, but my cousin was and his sister was the friend I was allowed to have. They went on a camping trip and I got to go along, my one experience with tent camping. Never again.

Anyway, I took this compass out in the woods and my cousin and I decided to go walking. I had a compass so we were good, so we thought. We ended up lost by some river. It stank. God the stench was horrible, like something, or hundreds of somethings just up and died right there.

The mud, we were in Mississippi or Alabama, probably Mississippi. The mud was that red clay type of mud. The kind you read about in old literary greats. Stuff written by Harper Lee, Mark Twain, people who grew up with their feet in that mud.

It stuck to my shoes and threatened to pull them off. I was really grossed out by it, I already couldn’t shower, I didn’t want to get muddy. Then, as we’re walking along, hoping the river will lead us back to the campsite, we happen on dead fish.

Just tons of them, dead fish bodies laying in this mud. It explained the smell.

My incredibly overdramatic cousin decided to act out a movie scene where she fell to her knees and screamed. Over the dead fish.

My 7 minutes are up.

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