I Love the SNOW 
I love the NEWNESS OF SPRING TOO!
Will it be today? Picture a birth of a bud! Where are you —new growth?
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Tag: Creative writing
Beware of the Family Tree
A Photo Challenge #359
Too, too Tired! A Haibun with Haiku
Just to create conditions that something did happen a long time ago. A memory to awaken according to dVerse at … click here for more information, CLICK!
Going back in time is something expected as one age. This memory always comes to mind when I do this exercise, and I have often recalled it.
I could barely walk; therefore, I must have been about 24 months.
Knowing I couldn’t have been more than three. I remember walking outside with my mother and her lady-friend. I remember sitting down on the sidewalk and sitting there, sitting there.
My mother refused to pick me up; she kept coaching me to get up. After a few moments went by, but it seemed to me at that time a very long time. She started to walk ahead with her lady friend, leaving me to sit there.
Now that I am grown, I imagine she said something like this, “okay, just sit there, but I am going home.” The picture in my memory is; it seems as if she is far, far away; I am frightened — she left me!
I would not get up to run to her since she seemed an eternity away.
I can still see how tiny both she and her lady-friend were because they were so far away in my mind’s eyes.
In reality, they were only about 50 feet from me, and I know this because my mother would have never left me!
Stubborn baby girl
Take my hand — up little one
Too tired, mama dear!
I’m Offended — Visual Verse.org
A few months ago I discovered Visual Verse Anthology, they offer a strange image and we, whoever, are prompted to write about it. I tried three times and two times got published.
This one below was published a few days ago, TITLED:
I’m OFFENDED!
As smart as the world says it is, this device here doesn’t even know, PIG LATIN!
He’s offended, she’s offended, and now my species, the pigs, are offended.
What is this world coming to?
Let’s Paint a Picture
This picture below I am about to paint using my watercolor palette of soft pastels PLUS WORDS.
Painting with words in the poetic form of the Double Ennead comprises five lines with a syllable count of 6/5/11/6/5, (33 SYLLABLES per stanza) 3 STANZAS EACH = 99 SYLLABLES, NO MORE, NO LESS! Punctuation and rhyme schemes are optional and up to the poet.
Meet me at the SALOON!
Dreamy pastels await
Color palette grab
Listen, hear now the soft pinks calling, melting
Away like sweet butter
Frosting on a cake!
Turning shades of blue to
Creamy violet
Eyes close tight —Imagine a vision, picture
A fantasy, magic
A painting finished!
Winter delight so warm
Whites seem to vanish
Seemingly Sinks into the deep freeze below
That image born within
Heaven far away!
The Angry Rock #writephoto
An Angry Rock was sitting there all alone, and I wondered how did it get there? How does anything or anyone get where we are? I thought.
It all began one fine afternoon, exploring while on a needed respite from work. I came across a path, a little rough, enough to be thankful for the hiking boots I wore. As I hiked closer to this towering boulder, my curiosity stirred my imagination; I hoped it would not choose this time to wobble as I so desired to see what was on the other side of the bending road ahead.
As I got under the dark statue-like figure above, it appeared to have a face, shouting, “Who goes there?” Do I dare to continue?
Would you?
Lollipop Heaven
I hope this amusing post meets with Fandango’s idea about words;
also, the challenging word “obscure,” inspired by The Word of the Day.
A creative parent trying to explain death to a youngster, in my opinion, might consider using words that would be obscure in the sense of realizing the mind of the innocent, their ability to perceive what we adults can not fully understand. This short story might explain my meaning.
Titled: “Lollipop Heaven”
Within the world of whimsical a short time ago, it was very sad for a lonesome little child. Someone, she loved recently died; as she sat quietly thinking, looking up to her mother, she asked.
“What is Heaven?”
Her mother’s eyes widened as she spoke softly. “Heaven is a place where we all want to see because the colors there are very vivid and true to their names.” Oranges and yellows are brighter than the sun, blues and greens are deeper than the oceans. All the clouds floating above are cotton candy, mountains covered with whipped cream, and the flowers there never wilt; in fact, are lollipops to pick.”
“Wow!” The child bellowed! “Grandma is so lucky; no wonder she won’t come back.”
dVerse IS BACK!
For dVerse where we are asked to write a Haibun about a new beginning a first!
Writing not one but four, and this will be my fifth post today, that is a first for me.
Another new beginning I recently experience was moving from my large three bedrooms, three-story home into my converted basement into what I call my cozy cave. (bottom story)
Why the move? Its been eight years since my beloved husband passed, and my six children have long left the nest. My life is in the state of the reverse; in other words, the children I cared for will now care for me.
Now that the packing and sorting out “stuff” is over, finding places for my keepsakes here in my cozy cave was challenging but fun.
I bet you wonder who is living upstairs? Two doggies, one cat, two lovely children (girls), and their mother, my daughter.
Alone, no! Not I
Noise yes!—Quietly! Snowfalls
Float toward the goal
Once Upon a Time … Oh oh!
Once upon a time, a child on a walk; wondered how to cross the murky water that greeted her.
Seeing a long worn bridge just ahead, tic-tac-toe, she thought — what fun!
Her tiny little steps ever so carefully she crept, oh oh O is amiss — turning she went back.
Join us at Three Line Tales
The Beginning of an End
Beginnings and endings, a prompt, and today during my quiet time, early in the morning, an inspiration. I came to realize all mysteries have a common denominator. I am speaking of praying the rosary. But first, my first attempt at a Golden Shovel form combined with Tanka form.
The poem selected author and title: The Rosary.
by Robert Cameron Rogers —> https://search.yahoo.com/search?fr=mcafee&type=E211US1079G91398&p=Robert+Cameron+Rogers also, you can read his poem by scrolling down to the bottom of this post.
My Golden Shovel poem is composed also in Tanka form; the bolded words are from my selected poem (seen at bottom of this post) My Poem Titled “Beginning to End”
Bless this sacred string
Holy rosary of pearls
Held by links to count
The pictures of memories
Is but a prayer to learn
An exciting point of inspiration; while meditating on each group of mysteries, a common theme is hidden. Take the example of our prompt at dVerse is of beginnings and endings.
Ponder the last five decades of fifteen Mysteries of the original rosary blessed Mother gave St Dominic. There we see the number three along with endings and beginnings.
The Finding of the Child Jesus being lost three days also representing the ending of His childhood: beginning His adult life and purpose, “And He said to them: How is it that you sought me? did you not know that I must be about my Father’s business?” Luke 2:49
The Crucifixion of Jesus, His words, “It is finished” an ending! It was the beginning of opening the gates of Heaven. On the third day, He will rise again.
Next, we meditate on The Coronation of Mary. Her entrance into Heaven ended her earthly life but began her reign as the Holy Trinity crowns her Queen. Three, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.
“And there are three who give testimony in Heaven, the Father, the Word, and the Holy Ghost. And these three are one.” 1 John 5:7
“And there are three that give testimony on earth: the spirit, and the water, and the blood: and these three are one.” 1 John 5:8
The Rosary — by Robert Cameron Rogers — published https://tinyurl.com/ycplsl2b
The hours I spent with thee, dear heart,
Are as a string of pearls to me;
I count them over, every one apart,
My rosary
Each hour a pearl, each pearl a prayer
To still a heart in absence wrung;
I tell each bead unto the end — and there
A cross is hung.
Oh, memories that bless — and burn!
Oh, barren gain — and bitter loss!
I kiss each bead, and strive at last to learn
To kiss the cross,
Sweetheart,
To kiss the cross.
