Its flight was one brave and bold attempt Flying flying swirling with ease Hunting looking finding target Aha a beauty one so sweet Off he glides to the side, front, back With all his might he did what’s right To the flower of choice so…

Feathers of red, orange, and yellow. Reborn from ashes yet again. Comes to those who are loyal. Taking to flight once more. Maimed a Basilisk. Tears of healing. Immense strength. Phoenix. Faux.  

Prompts Hour Twelve   Text Prompt   For this year’s first formal prompt the challenge is to write a nonet. This poetic form requires that you write a 9-line poem. In the first line there are 9 syllables, in the second 8 syllables and so on down…

The words got stuck in my head today But I have let them out to play Fear can hold me in it’s grip and take my thoughts away I knew this would hurt What could I do live in fear? No I can’t

Water to bless from child to elder, Wooden pews, Kneelers padded, Beeswax candle’s soft glow. A place of quiet in a world of noise, To think, push worries forward to the I Am. Comfort in familiar, to touch, to taste Infinity.

I dream of these faraway places Exotic remnants of the past Where I ran, unencumbered Past ghosts of other lives My parent’s story Bled into me Their story Becomes Mine.

I hear a call in the distance clear as day, I swear it’s calling my name from beneath the wat’ry  depths it beckons, “Come here.” Unclear what to do, I look to you, your “safety” keeps me dry.

I envision the infinite blue skies surrounding us but they were slowly fading into the mountain’s sunset haze. The winds they whispered and whinnied through the trees. The spirits of air, whistling with wild will: yet woeful in the days waning. The winnowing light wilted…

Old age ravishes the young who think they will never be alone or frail in bodily functions or trembling, cracked with mind bright making the heart more wanting, desperate for a friend.     Hour 12

A tattooed body lies next to me. Breathing in silhouettes, we smile. We trace each other’s stories. We highlight bravery, we honor sadness, uplift and smile. Our novels Are not Done.