Splinters of pain slashing away at life,
Shattering the meaning of my existence,
Away you walked, nonchalant.
Cracks deepen into chasms of grief,
That hope can never hope to bridge.
Poem in response to Weekend Writing Prompt hosted by the lovely Sammi Cox. This week’s prompt:
Poetry Challenge – Write a five line poem that includes at least three of the following synonyms for “fragment”:
Nathan woke up squinting; the gentle morning light blinding the eyes that had slept for too long. He sensed her immediately. Instinctively he closed his eyes, turned in her direction and slowly opened them. He saw her, radiant and smiling. Her tears wet his forehead as she kissed him.
“How do you feel honey?”
“I feel… I don’t know. Drugged. And Thirsty.”
“They say it will wear away in a few hours’ time. Here, have some water.”
Nathan drank out of her hands and lay back down in exhaustion.
“I am scared, Emily. What if it hasn’t worked? They did say it was experimental.”
“Then nothing changes, does it? We would have lost some money but then… Come on Nathan. You only need to try.”
Nathan looked down on his hand that had been his lifeless companion all life. He willed it to move. And suddenly – it did; making shadows he never knew he was capable of. Smiling, he looked out the window at the rising sun. A glorious day had just begun.
Word count: 173
Photo courtesy: artycaptures.wordpress.com.
Flash fiction in response to FFfAW hosted by Priceless Joy.
What am I still searching for? This is an all consuming, frequent thought that takes possession of me, as it would a number of you too I suppose. Leaves me with a feeling of something missing in the midst of the best of everything. This phrase captures the feeling eloquently.
She’s stuck between
who she is,
who she wants to be,
who she should be
I would really like to know who penned this. It is a brilliant example of capturing a lifetime in 3 lines. It mirrors what I go through and perhaps everyone does. This conflict of having and doing everything you should but “wanting” something else. That is if you do know what you want. If you don’t, the confusion is manyfold.
What do you do at such times? When the need to be someone else is so strong that your perfect life seems to be suffocating? I admit I am not brave enough to make drastic changes to chase a dream. But staying on the same path forever isn’t an option either. So, I have learned to come to terms with this feeling without letting myself drown in frustration. These five points have helped me immensely and I hope that they connect with you too.
Continue reading “Unhappy in a perfect life?”
PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll
Felicia fondly observed the trees through the window from her desk in the public office. They had grown over the thirty years of her service to be more majestic than her shriveled self. The phone below was probably older. A relic from the past; like she would be when she retires. Both would be forgotten…. soon.
She was distracted by a little girl pulling her father to the phone. As he picked her up, she placed the receiver to her ears, consumed with excitement. Felicia smiled. Perhaps some relics would survive still, if only by the curiosity of the young.
Word Count: 100
Flash fiction in response to Friday Fictioneers hosted by the lovely Rochelle Wisoff.
Photo credit: Louise with The Storyteller’s Abode
“She had no right to be rude to me. Especially when she knows the kind of stress that I am under!!” he fumed as he paced his yacht. Roy’s frustration had grown to unbearable proportions. He felt stifled and stuck in his present job. He wasn’t getting any new ones either being “too senior”. He felt caged and the tension was spilling over at home.
Being lost in his thoughts, he realized he was stuck, quite literally, only after a while; the low tide had left his yacht marooned. “What? This is exactly what I need now!!” he yelled. His anger though, could not be sustained. Forced inactivity has a calming effect on the mind and he was no exception. Nature took over his senses forcing him to observe and admire the jagged rocks, the iridescent green of the moss, the gray of the night edging out the blues. As the tide reversed and the yacht was ready for sailing, Roy was at peace. Sometimes, it is better to just be stuck.
Word count: 172
Flash Fiction in response to FFfAW hosted by Priceless Joy.
PHOTO PROMPT © Janet Webb
Laden with an assortment of items – paints, jars, crystals, marbles, buttons, she slipped unnoticed through the market, making her way back home. On reaching, she closed the door of her small one room home and smiled with relief. The ordeal was over.
She carefully arranged everything, reserving special tenderness for the lone window. She viewed it from the chair in front of her easel, admiring the golden streaks painted by the sun falling on the jar. Later, light would shine through the crystals in the candle stand to make a remarkable collage. She sighed contentedly and picked her brush.
Word count: 100
Flash fiction in response to Friday Fictioneers hosted by the lovely Rochelle Wisoff.
The lady in the story might be a recluse who shies away from people and finds everyday activities tedious. However, she is an artist and finds joy in the colors and shapes of nature and works of art. She is content, happy and at peace, in the little abode, she calls home. I am quite taken by her I must admit. 🙂
She followed the white plume that rose from the glowing incense stick. The smoke rose as a single sheet before branching out into barely discernible tiny veins and then vanishing altogether. She was engrossed in its fluid shapelessness; shifting every moment before she could even accept the picture through her eyes. She could only observe. Observe the ever changing ephemeral beauty while standing still in the chaos.
She wondered. Perhaps he was drifting too. Weightless, unbound, liberated. Just rising towards his God effortlessly while his body decayed like the slowly burning incense turning into ashes. However, just as everyone would sense the incense by its scent long after the ashes had been swept, she would feel him too long after he was gone. He would be with her in every smile and tear, in every moment of courage and weakness, in every breath and death.
She followed the stream of smoke till her eyes rested on the face of God. She stared into His serene face and did the only thing she could. “Please accept him God” she prayed with all her soul’s strength. “Please keep him happy.”
Memories of you seize me in unguarded moments
Washing over me and pelting me, like torrential rain
Where do I seek shelter, when it is myself I am running from?
Everyone says, whatever happens, happens for the good
Show me all the things I hate about you; tell me it’s good riddance
Is it? I question myself. Has my love for you been so blind?
It must be; for it screened from me all the signs and hints
Now, as I set out to chart out the lonely path of discovery,
What do I deserve and what is in store, who can tell?
I KNOW one thing for sure though; the one guiding lamp to my path
You may have found me worthless, a dead weight around your leg
But that is YOUR scale, not mine. I will NOT let this define me.
Wafting with each draft
Drifting with each wave
Gliding and floating away
There is no goal to reach
Nowhere to settle.
With complete submission
The buoyant heart follows
The path charted by changes.
Scars or wounds there are none
With nothing to hold me down.
Anger spirals out of you
Binding me; choking me
Vengeful words slice me
Fury brands its scar on me
I remind myself to stay calm
forming a shield of patience
this storm shall pass too; so
don’t judge the clouds for the storm.
This last line is what I often tell myself when a loved one is furious. At that moment I do feel angry myself and dislike the person for their insensitivity. But then at the same moment, I tell myself “this is a person I love and for many many reasons. So, just ride this storm out with patience and sort it out later, Meanwhile, don’t judge the clouds for the storm.”
I love twilight – always have. I love it for all the usual reasons – the painted crimson sky; the music of conversation among birds. But I also love it for another reason.
Twilight stands for anything anybody wants it to be. It could be the much-awaited respite from a scorching, unrelenting glare; holding the promise of a fresh outlook and rest. It could be the harbinger of light bidding to lift the blanket of darkness; holding the promise of a job well done.
This exactly is the best part of Twilight; it marks a transition, a change. It is that critical moment where the certainty of outcome is withheld that much longer to extend out the pleasure of hope.
He trudged alone on that stifling, hot day – the sand mirroring the sun with each step. Each step was an exertion. He was exhausted with the effort of taking one step at a time for so many years. How many more steps? How much more effort? How many more years in pursuit of nowhere?
He slumped onto the hot sand. His face was burnt by the tears as he looked back on his footsteps in the sand. At some places, they were crowded. Some bore the witness of the gaiety of dance. Some were shallow – left by him as he had scuttled from place to place. His most recent footsteps though were deep, heavy and all alone.
Continue reading “The shadow”