Photo Challenge: Golden (and poem)

Tuesday Photo Challenge – Golden

 

Gold is fleeting, illusionary.
Her arms outstretched, calling, beckoning,
Controlling.

Much is done in her name.
Charity, War. She brings them forth,
Yearning.

Wings of illusion power her flight,
Iron pyrite, ocean sunsets, rivers of gold,
Luring.

Should she notice you, you would kneel.
Her lips burning you with passion.
Conquering.

The sun lays paths of golden splendor to bring
Inspiration. Her greatest gift is imagination, childhood dreams
Blooming.

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Life’s Texture

https://narami.wordpress.com/2016/12/20/tuesdays-of-texture-week-52-of-2016/

Touch life, in a Chilean desert,
Where the sand is fine, rusty,
Pink with a sash of burgundy.

Feel life in a frozen apex above
An island of Canary, mountain high
As the ice covers and caresses.

Stroke the electric vibrations that
Emanate in mirrors, hiding the
Motion of nightlife, stirring it forward.

Pluck the purple passion found in
Tender petals. Surrounding you
Covering you with soft touches of pleasure.

Caress the swollen clouds that dangle
Teasingly just beyond reach. In the heavens,
Promising the cool breezes to passersby.

Manipulate the boulders, stacked by size
Treating the balance of gravity as
If the history of the world is on your back.

Trail your hands around the Austrian pattern
Swirling in a monastery as though
It was a moving footprint of a snail’s shell.

Splash against a sandy beach, scrubbing
The ocean’s waves. Feel the surging
Power that pulls away from your hands.

Touch a savage pattern, alkaline and dry,
Feel the salary of traditions old
A page of understanding that caresses as we learn.

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Cees Challenge: A Road, a Path, a Journey: poem and photographs

Cee’s Which Way Photo Challenge – December 21, 2016

I've walked them all, the roads,
The paths, walking as they call out,
"Here! Here I am!"
And the twists and turns from civility
To the brash encounters
That leave you breathless 
And thinking. I've walked them all.

The journey leads you to new
Thoughts and actions, people,
Dogs, the dogs are my favorite.
They teach me to look with my ears,
My nose, then my eyes.
"Here!" they bark. "Here I am!"
Tails wag and we part, friends.

The cities bustle and blend themselves
Into mirrors of bright reflection
Of the life below the windows.
The buses roar like dragons
Belching out smoke, foul odors,
And the bystanders standing
On the curb shout, "Here! Here I am!"

The bus lurches to a stop.
"Here! Here I am. Now board and 
Use the windows to see what you miss
When you don't walk."
It snarls, winds its engine and dreams
Of standing still in the tumultuous wind
And listening to the roar.

I stand alone on the bus stop,
Indecisively making a decision
To walk down the treed streets.
Strong armed trees holding the last leaves
Of fall. Autumn calls out,
"Here you are. Look at me."
And the beauty makes me weep.

I am the bystander, taking the road.
Calling my children to let them know
To look on a map and see me.
"Here! Here I am!" But invisible,
They see only the marker of 
Where I have been. I can call,
"Here! Here am I! See me!" They don't.

I have a secret. A wood's walk,
Where the king of the forest
Strode into my path.
"Make way. Make way. This is my path,
My road. Here I am."
And I see him, towering over me.
I answer, "I am here, too."

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Sunday Trees, a poem and a photograph

https://beccagivens.wordpress.com/2016/12/18/sunday-trees-266/

There you stand, arms outstretched,
Gathering the last sun of a season
As the cold moves with infinite patience.
The crystals of frost will soon haunt you.
They spread from dawn to dusk, and infiltrate
Your woods at night to decorate with lacy
Precision, precision which creates chill and ice.
But beneath the earth, you grow and shiver
Living like ants on the stored food in your veins.
Your tenants, the squirrels follow your lead and nap.
Their nests decorating during the winter,
A barren decoration, brown, gray, but hopeful.
You create the roots of spring while waiting,
While knitting through the winter months.
Arms outstretched you gather the last rays, knitting,
Before the sunset of autumn and the dawn of winter.

 

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Goal: A Limerick Challenge

A Barcelona Child, while soccer was playing,
Did kick the ball to his old mother graying,
It bounced so hard,
It left the yard,
In the atmosphere weightless it is staying.

Funny, somedays you just need a good limerick or a bad one. I’m looking for the positive in my own world. I got to watch some young children playing soccer in the Old City of Barcelona, that fortress that is a bastion of museums and the baroque. No one seemed to mind that they were using the old wall for sport and I enjoyed watching them be happy kids.

The challenge: https://mindandlifemattersblog.com/2016/12/10/limerick-challenge-week-50-goals/

Martyr: A Dailypost Writing Prompt

Better had you called her Mother,
For mother she was before you stole
Her every waking moment with your needs.
She never minded the change that goes with:

I need water, cookies, a story.
I need soothing, aspirin, a cold pack.
I have a broken dolly, truck, fix it, 
Someone hurt me, pushed me, my knee...

My broken heart, my bank balance.
My lost friend, my best friend gone,
I'm alone. You were never alone, not you.
She hovered over you even when you refused to see.

Still she held you and gave you worth, forgiveness.
Counsel given you, and some of hers from a lengthy speech
You remember. You lust for more, but lack the patience
Of saints from world's dust covered and ash filled.

Mother finds a way, always she finds a way.
My friends have, my sister has, my brother took.
Return it, all of it to her, give her the life
That she thought she would have, but you changed.

She gave her all away, every drop: tears, smiles, cries.
Still she sets the table, waiting for a call, a note.
Cooks for your empty spot, carefully decorated table,
Leaves a napkin to blot your lips or brow, a post card.

Folded on the table, she keeps her dreams for you,
The funds she gathered in pennies, for ice cream, notebooks...
She gave you her dreamscapes to bear with you,
Lush beautiful realms of the mind. Freedom.

In place of your sorrow, a breeze for gladness.
She healed you, scolded you, taught you,
Worked to learn the math both new and old,
So you could explain the new world to her. 

Mother, better had you called her Mother, 
Before she was labeled Martyr, as willingly
You took away her smiles of you, to leave her
Eyes in tears and heart in two.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/martyr/

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Daily Post Challenge: Relax

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/photo-challenges/relax/

Relax, but be vigilant.
This is warmth in the sun,
Cool in the water,
Danger in the depths.
Your mother warned 
You about days like this.
Where the happiness in your 
Heart reaches out to others.
You can't resist this moment.
Relax, but be vigilant,
Life is happening.

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