WDYS means What Do You See
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!
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
Run! Dinner served, every second counts.
What is a conversational poem? Dialogue poems vary in length and may involve arguments, conversations that tell stories, statements of varying perspectives and witty repartee. They usually involve two people who take turns talking. The conversation may sound natural or occur in rhyming verse, depending on the author. There are no precise rules for writing a dialogue poem; however, the poem is usually based on an exchange of dialogue between two people who approach a subject from different viewpoints. (source)
Okay I’ll try! Using these paint chips below: Now YOU Try!
“Let’s go into this Highlighter store,”
“I like the name, HIGHLIGHTER STORE.”
“Forget it, been there, done that,
more like a Supernova store,
with a lot of nothing.”
“But look, they sell Lavender
scented Teddy Bears.”
“Oh-oh, there’s an Elephant in this room, look!
On the other hand, don’t look; let’s leave.”
“You act like you seen a dinosaur.”
“Not really! Just wanted to see
that movie playing titled,
WILD BLUE YONDER.”
dVerse has come up with something different so what is it? Also, what is it, within my Prosery written here for dVerse and its host? More questions than answers, first the rules — 144 words or less, using a particular line which is “When far away an interrupted cry.” Use it in your story, here is my attempt below.
Oh dear, another sleepless night, looking at the clock, thinking, and it’s only 1:30 in the morning. Perhaps if a lie here a little longer I’ll fall asleep. Sigh! When far away, an interrupted cry, what was that? I wondered.
Sitting straight up, in bed, looking half numb out the opened window. To afraid to move an inch. Sounded like a bird or was it a banshee? Was it outside or inside. Did that sound come from my attic or basement?
I can’t stand another moment; I’ll sit here and say that prayer I use to say when I was a kid. “Angel of God, my guardian dear,
to whom God’s love commits me here,
ever this day be at my side,
to light and guard, to rule and guide.
Amen.” I feel sleepy now, good night whoever you are.
Usually, I don’t post within my blogs anything personal; because my life is not that interesting and who cares that I burned the dinner last night anyway.
Today however the “Daily Inkling” stimulated an emotion, upon reading the prompt, inviting all to write about anything we might have with a signature and what that means to us.
My story starts here: While caring for my mother, who passed away six years ago at the early age of 98 — remembering her pleasant smile always, a gift to me, a memory and rare for someone unable to get out of bed; someone who spent her last ten months looking at the ceiling. My husband knew I had this responsibility of caring for her, all his plans of traveling here and there with me now on hold. The irony: He passed away exactly one year before her, November 2012 and she departed November 2013, just one day shy.
After they were gone; while going through their things, sorting, sifting, and separating whenever I found even just a tiny piece of their writings whether, on a note or scrap of paper, I stopped and stared at it in wonder. It was as if I saw for the first time their mindset or spirit. I thought, why did she scribble all those random words, what did they mean to her at that time? Thinking again, why did he draw that diagram, was it for me to understand something?
I kept those tiny pieces of treasures, little bits of their life that now became a precious gift, if only to myself.
Why do I blog? I imagine my loved ones TODAY perceive my blog here, they smile as they read my writings, composing of poems are a passing activity to keep my mind sharp, a hobby; while I whittle the time away!
Little do they know!
My desire for them to awaken, through the same discovering experience I received, they too will realize my written thoughts will become more than a passing activity. My family will read them in a new light. My vision for them to see ME again, to recognize and treasure any truths I learned during my journey we call life.
Opening my eyes while thinking, how bright it was outside my window, oh it snowed again; reaching for the covers while pulling them up over my shoulders; why is it so cold I wondered.
Feeling for the alarm, wondering about the joy I felt; I had another hour to sleep, turning over. I’ll just quickly hop out of bed, turn up the heat to warm the house and get back under the cozy, fuzzy blankets for another hour.
Not so fast! What’s this strange dizziness, I wondered, falling back into my pillows and safe zone, confused and anxious, I tried again to get up. To no avail! Quickly fell back sinking into the softness of my bed. I wondered what in the world is going on!
I realized all that brightness I thought was snow outside my window was in actuality the bedroom lights had been turned on.
Gulp! Who are all these people in my room I wondered! No one is looking familiar, and why are they just ignoring me! “Hey!” I screamed.
“No use,” a voice said, “they can’t hear you because you’re dead!”
“Like a candle, your flame burnt out and now you are all mine!”
“Yours,” I screamed, “who are you?”
“Don’t you know, I am the one you have been serving for the past several decades.”
The story inspired by First Line Friday: Below
Millie couldn’t believe her luck, an eighteenth century, hand-carved oak hope chest with original fixtures intact– and all she had to do was convince them to sell it to her.
It all started when she accidentally came upon this old home as she was scouring houses to list for sale; thereby enhancing her real estate career. This property was quite hidden with overgrown shrubs and nonconforming to the surroundings. She was surprised to see how welcomed she was when she approached the door to inquire if there might be an interest in a future sale of said property. That was when she noticed the treasured hope chest.
The senior man, indicated positively, as he was about to enter into a facility for the aged. Hearing his words was the opening she had hoped for, not only was this an opportunity for a commission but, also to gain the hope chest.
Concise, and to the point, as she looked around, she mentioned the room was very crowded with that enormous chest it would be a distraction to potential buyers. Would he be interested in selling it? She asked with tact and thoughtfulness.
Only, he said, if you took all the contents that it held, junk I collected throughout the many years of my life.
Music to her ears, her elation was well contained within her soul as the sale progressed.
The sale of the chest now achieved, with keen anticipation as to what the contents contained; the subject for another future story.
This story; My summarized picture of life. Opportunity/Success, seeking what we desire, hoping to achieve, curious about what it holds. In the end, Galatians 6:7 Do not be deceived: God cannot be mocked. A man reaps what he sows.
Judgment, Heaven or Hell.
Another prompt and or challenge from Saturday Mix AND see here for the instructions, this week we are dipping our toes into the pool of OPPOSITES. Our challenge is all about “opposing forces” and the use of antithesis in our writing. You will need to use the two opposing words in your response –
Our words this week are:
– unite and divide
– hope and hopeless
The above words, a challenge of four opposing words that come together remind me of a black and white classic movie recently published on YouTube. One of those edge of the seat stories, full of emotion; a story about how a people divided come together and unite in a crisis. A tale of hopelessness that wrought hope to a community in a racially mixed American town.
A 5-year-old black girl falls unnoticed into a hidden, forgotten well on her way to school. Having nothing better to go on, the police follow up a report that the child was seen with a white stranger, and rumors run wild.
If your time prevents you from viewing this lively and exciting account created in 1951, but so relevant today, add it on your bucket list for later.