….and then she found an old traditional recipe by her foremothers, forwarding it to her future self…   Ingredients   1 cup of inner anguish, neatly chopped. A selection of treasured recollections from happier times. There are several pinches of silent ideas that want to…

Reflections of reflections of reflections mirrored in the eye, I see you standing there at the water’s edge, the next minute you are gone only to reappear with the gardening shears or getting ready for work your smile gently teasing your hands reaching for mine…

Hey all, Haras here! I made an error this go around, but hopefully I have fixed it!   I used the schedule feature, but none of my poems were posted on time. :/   I hope that doesn’t mean my completion won’t count.   Hope…

Another great year – thank you Jacob and Caitlin. This year I struggled more than usual, partly with too much on my mind. However, I hope to edit and rescue a few of those penned today. Good night fellow Half Marathoners and carry on Full…

Hooray! Finished another Half-Marathon. Thanks.

A young man stands still in the Soothsayer’s shack “It is not strength, but patience you lack” , the seer says beneath a tattered hood in a drafty cabin to the north of the wood The knight huffs and turns upon his heel but stops…

Snow falls onto a castle spire and a princess sits, near burned by the fire Peasant children play in the grounds below but it’s not a pleasure the princess knows Her hands are gentle, soothed by fragrance and oil Bathed in milk and honey, she…

Arthritis is trespassing today. I’m still writing on paper – probably won’t get them posted to my computer  for another day or so. I’m probably stopping at 12 hours, 9PM for me. I love this community and all the support each time we do this.

Two wanderers stop where the dirt paths merge She is coy, curious; He is brave, bold Eyes catch and fall ignorant to the sun winking behind the trees He, from the East and Her, the West seek out the North and South but carelessness has…

Atop the hill he stood, steadfast, immovable revered by the castle and the land beneath its spires Bards spun tales of his skill, his grace, and the wounds that would lead him to his cave He peers out from within the rock face, motion slowed…