Spark
Body falters, mind the same, but spirit dances, lithe as a flame.
Read MorePassion for writing ignites my soul's momentum
Body falters, mind the same, but spirit dances, lithe as a flame.
Read MoreAim for the sublime – defy mediocracy; let passion hunger. (For Ronovan Writes Haiku Challenge: hunger/strike; and Ragtag Community’s sublime)
Read MoreThis passion surfaces, rushes, boils inside me, raging against the rocks of my conventionality, demanding release, commanding my pen – its voice a roar obstructing constraint – insatiable creativity. I should be back soon. (Today’s prompt is to write a poetic prose in the form of a postcard.)
Read MoreSeduced – the virility of youth irresistible even for an old duck like me – so unexpected, relentless, I ignore exhaustion lean into the fantasy, allow desire to embrace me, cross a boundary, surrender… step up to the stage, bare-chested, shameless, speak into the mic, reveal my words: those childlike bits of myself; hope my […]
Read MoreNo more out-on-the-town bustles – the late afternoon light fading in my corner – focus now turned to higher issues; try to keep company with mindfulness – a worthy educator, facilitating release – but my inventory is too spun. Achieving a semblance of completion, something to reflect my life’s toil, would be welcome, yet I […]
Read MoreIf transformation is my path, then let me be in charge – reverse this introspective lull, cease this bystander’s status, build new awareness, embrace the fullness of spirit. Give me legs that I may walk amongst the gathering voices brush shoulders with anti-hate protestors, find my wings, wear the cause to end racism, sexism, fear […]
Read MoreIf I were to write every day for one hundred days, would my soul be purged of this malaise; is it a thing to be dredged, dragged up – twisted and tied like tattered bed sheets knotted together; is there a remedy for this scourge; or is this an inherent restlessness, a fiery blue spark […]
Read MoreCrazy catches me – semi-conscious/ zoned out – body slams me, hot mouth pressed on mine suppressing objection (as if I’d object) working my juices my mind overboard passion flaming I forget who I am where I am yesterdays tomorrow Modesty intervenes compelling flight – flesh torn from flesh prematurely – this seduction, taunting me […]
Read More“Why can’t I play hockey, Mom?” John and I were watching boy after boy try to shoot a puck through a hole punched out of the middle of a cardboard goalie. It was a fundraising event for his older sisters’ school. Truth was, I didn’t have a good answer; I just didn’t like the violence […]
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