Wind Blows
Beneath my feet, moss impossibly soft,
the outline of a feather, pure white,
stood in the rearview dancing.
The Will of Roses
Stitching a flower
That will never fade
To hang on the wall
Hours spent
Checking charts
And sewing in the patterns
Finally being finished
Finally FINALLY being finished
The rose breathes new life
Standing out how
Proud from the fabric
Energized by newfound interest
Picked up
Put aside
And picked up again
The rose at last
Remembers what it is
And it’s thorns reach out to prick
Free Hope Shop #20
Just around the corner near the yellow lamppost
There’s a red brick house with a sign on the top
“Welcome”, it says, “to The Free Hope Shop”
I’ve been there often when I couldn’t fall asleep
There’s an old lady behind the counter
Reading a book, offering muffins and tea
She smiles at you and pats you on the head
Gives a blanket, a book and a flower
“Treat yourself to the tea, my friend”
The couches are comfortable, the cat is noisy
But there’s always something different
Sometimes the lights, sometimes the posies
A corner is for those who want to be left alone
The jukebox for ones who needs a friend
Spaces to heal and time to mend
You can stay for as long as you like
Cry or sing to the strangers around
Share a story, watch quietly peace settles down
I don’t know how the shop is maintained
Everything there is free, nothing is for sale
“Don’t you worry about it dear”, she says
When you leave she stops you at the door
Hands you a handwritten thank you note
Whispers, “Hope you’re okay, you don’t’ have to ache alone”.
As you leave, there’s one thing you should do
Wave and smile, take the note with you
Offer it to someone down the road and say thank you.
The little Star
The little star did it’s best
Combining atoms at it’s nature’s behest
It tried and tried but didn’t think it got it right
The people there on Earth couldn’t see its light
After many years it asked the Universe a question long on its mind
“Will I ever be a big star that can light up the sky?”
The Universe replied
“You already are my child. Just continue to shine, your light will reach them all in due time.”
Cat Sank
At this hour of the day, when the morn’ is new and sunny, thinking of my favorite cat, is really rather funny. There’s Vinnie, the Calico and Chester lives next door. Oh, and there’s also Ollie; Just one of many I adore. I know and love several cats This much is true the one I want to tell you about is named ‘Cat Sank,’ also known as Yeux. Cat Sank is a French feline. she is smudge pot black; cute as can be, with a wide white stripe on her backside, for all the world to see. Cat Sank wears a beret And is funny, bright and full of spunk, She really has only one small flaw: She’s in love with a skunk. I want to hold her in my arms but outside she must stay Because of her love of Pepe LePew And his awful malodorous spray.
High Tide (Poem 18)
As the ocean 🌊 tide rises
So does the anticipation rises
Swings and moods of nature
Allures the presence of granduer
Splendid time of uncommon favor
Spread its wings like the ocean floor
Pitching tides fare and wide
Leaving no space for common slide
The dips and turns of the water flows
Runs, bumps and bows
Never again to wonder free
Leaving the pressure to soar and free
All rights reserved copyrighted(c)2020 Roxann A Harvey-Lawrence
Prompt 23: Armour
We’ve been planning on getting a dog.
As though we consulted a book of baby puppy names,
one of us came up with one that would be perfect for a little scrunch-faced bulldog: Armour.
We have routines like the young couple from John Osborne’s Look Back in Anger,
minus the class animosity, that we’ve built around this dog, who will be the most
anticipated pet of any household.
Little Armour will be pleased to know Ron has already developed his voice.
That he’s a got an extemporaneous flair for creating dialogue is a perk. Poor Armour
may wonder, though, if he’s being spoken to or if his owner is deranged.
Every time we see a bulldog, we think of Armour, but we know our Armour will be our own.
We’re not dog nappers, thank you.
Armour is less imaginary than he is a bullprint of the dog we hope
we’ll find waiting for us one day. If androids did dream “of electric sheep,”
it’s possible to imagine a little bulldog dreaming of the owners ready to devote to him slavishly.
Or, so my sleepy mind considers it this morning.
Hour 23, Imaginary?
Our girl was a preemie,
a twin bereft of her sister
before their life outside of me
could even begin.
She was tiny, an elfin child,
with delicate features,
large eyes, and thin limbs,
seeming to exist between worlds.
She spoke of strange things
no one else could see,
imaginary friends populating
each corner of her fertile mind.
Most memorable to me
was the creature that inhabited
our Christmas poinsettia plant
one December; Buggy was his name.
Buggy had many tiny friends
that held elaborate parties
among the red and opulent leaves
every night as we slept.
It was only as I quietly discarded
the strangely sickly plant one night
that I discovered the truth our spritely
three year old had tried so hard to convey:
an infestation of spider-like mites
danced under and climbed over its leaves.
22. COVID-19
The verdict is not out. It is not necessarily a zombie virus but it might as well be.
Is it strictly respiratory?
It can cause strokes and cardiac complications?
In the elderly, babies, and the youth?
What do we believe?
Do we wear the fashionable mask, or the N95?
Is it a matter of what we can afford or the supply and demand?
Have we truly forgotten to wash our hands?
I always took off my shoes.
This is not new.
It only feels strange to wash groceries paper plastic metal fruit vegetable or anything in between.
Gloves to move about I still struggle with as I visit each store with a mask muffling my word no problems as it is a sign of mutual respect.
Only as I walk or run do I no longer see anyone wearing a mask , now not even me.
These have become our outer accoutrements to stop the spread of a deadly disease that continues to grow, lawyers for the most part most of us seem unafraid. We seem unaccepting of its deadly raid on society. We feel invincible . Both young and old take chances because we feel healthy and strong. Not knowing Covid finds our weakness and unravels our health if we are not careful.
In its path we are rendered helpless. To be intubated is to pierce the esophagus to help the breath the most sacred of our human rights.
Darkness
(from the hour #20 prompt)
By Sandy Lender, attributing it to Nigel Taiman in my world of Onweald
When I awoke today the suns didn’t rise
Darkness clouded every valley
I had only to pick one to fall into
When I awoke today your end was still real
Dezurine wept for our souls together
And the army of Arcana dispersed
In despair
Your quest may be mine now
And I’ll do what you’ve asked of me
Because I love you like the suns that will never rise again
And I love you like the valley clothed in darkness
Yet I grieve with the anguish of The Dragon
I could fill another river with my tears
And dip you ’neath its rapids to heal you
If it means the suns will somehow rise again
Lighting the valley left around us
So I can see when you return to me