I’m once again joining the word witch, Colleen Chesebro, weekly poetry challenge, #photoprompt. I came up with three different Haikus for this photo as I played with words. Here is my favorite that turned into a #Senryu.
I write this in memory of my father and don’t worry, I’ve tagged it in humor. It’s my recollection of one of the last times I saw him before his unexpected death. Anyone who has a perfectionist for a father will get a chuckle out of this anecdote…
Recently, as I waited at a red light I looked at all the license plates on the cars surrounding me. Not necessarily to see if they were from somewhere far away but to inspect the screws securing the plates. Strange, I know.
I blame my late father. I can still see him on that sunny July afternoon: bent down lower than a man his age should be. The object of his inspection? The oversized screws holding my license plate. Much to his consternation not only were these screws obviously too big for the job, but they were unsightly. This is just the thing that could keep my father awake at night.
July and I have a complicated relationship. I’m not sure when that happened exactly. I almost want to say that my adult self is paying penance for carefree Julys of my childhood. But that wouldn’t be accurate either. Not entirely.
Untamed was my first Glennon Doyle read. I’ve heard her name buzzed in Good Reads and various places such as, ahem, Oprah. Now this book is a Reese Witherspoon choice. So…I was anxious to read this one and the description grabbed my attention.
I’m joining in Sue Vincent’s #writephoto challenge today. It’s all about dreams…
Always in bloom
Her dreams took her
To faraway places
She hadn’t been before
A path that beckoned
Colors to entice her through
Darkest of days
Purple and green
And greys in between
Her dream as vivid as the
Lilac in late spring
-LT 7/2/20
Want to join in? Write up your own little poem and link back to Sue’s post.
#Poetry challenge #WritePhoto Purple and Green dreams…do you dream in color or black and white? Share on X
First, let me just say this isn’t a post about how to know if you are an empath. I just want to express the problems I’ve experienced as an empath myself and offer tips for those of you who are feeling especially tapped out right now.
Empaths are vulnerable to abusive people who take advantage of their good nature and well of compassion. Empaths are far from perfect and are often told they are too sensitive.
I’m sharing a poem with you today. I wonder, can you relate? As much of my life lessons have taught me about valuing material goods over love and health, I don’t believe I’ve expressed it as well as with this verse.
Whoever “she” is has taught me, too.
I’m feeling…somber.
George Floyd is yet another victim in a long list of black men and women who have been killed by people who are meant to protect them. The words “I can’t breathe” have become a sickening pattern. Not this again! How can this keep happening? Why is this happening?
Confession: I could not watch the video of his tragic death. I don’t have the stomach for it.
#WritePhoto is a writing prompt created by Sue of Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo . Sue has chosen this image with the word prompt ‘paint’. You can write poetry (free style), essay or a story using the image or the word. I’ve chosen the image.
His True Love Ash blew into his eye As he scattered her From the bridge Into the Creek below Lily pads will surround her And gracious trees will soothe her Just as she had asked To rest her burned bones Beneath the red bridge Where they first kissed He wiped his wet cheek With his shirt sleeve Dusted his true love From his jeans Thank you, my Love, he whispered As he replaced the lid of the urn Closing his eyes For a final goodbye He turned to leave The bridge swayed And the wind carried her scent Of lavender back to him
If you’d like to join in check out Sue’s page here.
Design by ThemeShift.
