They attribute my worth to irrelevancies. Does it not suffice that I give shelter? That I shield from harsh winds? That my hearth warms? They come in, asking, 'how big is the garden?' 'Are the kitchen tops marble?' 'How many rooms are there?' I don't mind that last question though. You see, humans are … Continue reading La Casa’s lament
I muse about Life and Death, and it is revealed to me that they are two of a kind. Standing side by side. Touching, but not feeling, neither encroaching. They exist in harmony as they swirl in turns over the bridge of Time. Deep in the crevices of my mind, the knowledge that all souls … Continue reading Life and Death
Smaerd turns to me, "tell me about Cranes." I jumped right in, "ah, 'Story of the Cranes', do you know scholars deny it?" Smaerd looked at me, "no not that." I didn't ask, just jumped right in, again. "Oh, you mean, a thousand origami Cranes and how they make a wish come true!" Smaerd now exasperated, … Continue reading What do you know of Cranes?
It's behind closed eyes, My immortality rules, In sleep and in death. In between, I live though dead, Ceaselessly longing to fit. ©Aweni Image credit: Pezibear This post is in response to Colleen's weekly Tanka Tuesday poetry challenge. The prompts for this week's challenge are synonyms of BELONG and DREAM.
She made love to his mind. This was no balderdash like phone sex. Apologies to aficionados. Theirs was dynamite and illuminating. But just a sandglass long. He knew it not as sin. Until he could look his wife not in the eye. ©Aweni Image credit: Deflyne
Smaerd takes me on a walk again today. We see a man and a woman sat as though meditating but they were not. They were deep in discussion. She says, “There is a God.” He says, “I disagree.” She asks why. He asks, “Where is God when a five-year-old child is raped? When the … Continue reading He says, she says
They uttered all the words he wanted to hear. Excitement tore at him from within. The big rush of adrenaline he felt Propelled him onto clouds Dark with his pride. Upon them he stood, Until they fell as shame. What a rude awakening he had, When his body struck the ground. Ouch! They weren't in … Continue reading Before a fall, sycophants rule
Smacking his broad gold lips, Donald did not see the malevolent look Mel gave him. She made those babies. They should be hers for the eating, not Donald's. Dolefully, she plotted with the others. They shared her sentiments. When a golden haired girl not more than six walked in with her mother screaming excitedly, "Goldfish! … Continue reading How Mel got her own back.
What do you see from your window? "Jack Frost came again," she said with glee. She saw the ice on the grass and on the street. The icicles hang from the branches on the tree. The kids came out with their skates, glad to be free. Tiny squirrels scamper in and out the … Continue reading Sightful
For a nymph, I fell. Enamoured with her I am. With glee, I am spelled. Chains cast in steel lift my heart. Happy as a lark, I am. ©Aweni Image credit: elicesp This post is in response to Colleen's weekly Tanka Tuesday poetry challenge. The prompts for this week's challenge are … Continue reading Spelled