Hour 17 – Homeward

Homeward

Rain splattered window
Heading home after work
I rest, letting the bus carry away my worries
Letting someone else steer for awhile

17

There she stood

Alone in the nave

Needing to talk to the Lord

The colorful glass

Helped her be brave

Like some modern-day Joan with a sword.

19~12

See Real

 

Ingredients blend

Whole modified freshness

 

Yellow contains

Traces of questions

 

Distributed acids

Provide battle protection

Z-School episode 2 hour 5

Z-School 2

Our friends were all dead
We went to the playground
Grabbed a hockey stick each

More zombies came
We whacked them
Killed a bunch of zombies

Stole a car and drove into more
That was five years agonising
I have killed many zombies

I ain’t a stoppin’ now!

Fluff and Stuff

Have you ever seen anything quite as tough
As a field of off white dandelion fluff
Some people love it, use it for wishes
They huff and they blow
Until the wishes it dishes
Others are not quite as fond of this flower
They will pull it, toss it
Take away its power.
The tiny fairy fluffs
They fly through the air
Planting themselves
In lawns everywhere.
So if ever you see
A small fuzz so tough
Pay homage to the tenacious
Dandelion fluff!

I could tell you

I could tell you how lonely it is

In our bed at night

And how I just dread to turn off the light

But I suppose you already know

 

I could tell you that I’m out of sorts

When your off and gone, and aren’t around

When it’s just me here and you cannot be found

But surely you already know

 

I could tell you that I don’t eat as good

When you aren’t standing at the stove

Cooking up a tasty treasure trove

But you just have to know

 

I could tell you I count the hours

Until you come home again

Watching the clock, and agonizing within

But I know you’re counting too

 

I could tell you how happy I’ll be when I see you

Coming through the front door

Just how much I care for you, oh how I adore

But I know you feel the same

 

I could tell you that I love you so

And I’m complete when you are near

It makes my heart swell and sing to have you near

But I know you’ll be home soon

 

 

Prompt 21, Hour 17

Coming to an end

I’ve done all I could do

Just a few more breaths

Until I’m through

However I will not be forgotten

My life not in vain

Because people remember me

How and why I came

Each petal that withers, and each seed that drops off

Is carried away as someone who knew me

Heard of me

Learned from me

Remembers me

Shares me

My roots firmly in place

My foundation made

I grew

I stood

I bloomed

I gave life

And even when

My spirit, my breath leaves this fleshy body

My soul always stays

Parts of me linger in the wind

For that is why I came

 

Copyright © 2019 by Angelica Stevenson

All Rights Reserved

 

 

Stillness

In somber silence of my mind,  stillness in the knowing I’m alive.

In thought that glorifies, what is never really still.

The night creatures stir their portion in the night~

Toads do their croaking,  making their own songs heard,  while the owl hoots,  and night bird songs come to life.

I hear beating wings on the breeze,  as the cricket plays sweetly,  in the night.

There is  really no somber silence,  as we all know,  nothing is still…

C. Burgess (c)

 

Prompt 16: it’s all about the chemistry

it’s all about the chemistry

hovering around you in twos

by twos

by twos

by twos

you stabilise me.

all pieces of my shell bonded when we dance together

around centres,

positively neutral,

we stabilise each other so the centre will hold itself

and us –

keeping the Universe safe from total collapse.

 

(c) r.l. elke

On Life and Diabetes (Hour Sixteen)

On Life and Diabetes

 

Unzipping my case,

I fumble for my meter.

Staring solemnly

at the series of small callouses

gracing every digit on my left my hand,

it dawns on me:

my life IS diabetes.

 

Too many times each day,

I poke myself,

seeking the level of glucose

flowing through my veins.

 

Each test leaves behind a scar,

so tiny the naked eye might miss it,

yet so bold it feels like Braille

beneath a blind man’s fingers.

 

If my sugar runs high,

I must inject myself with insulin,

restoring the natural order of things.

 

Should my levels be low,

I must feed my face,

building blocks like protein to

preserve my strength.

 

I constantly check my ’emotional glucose’ meter too.

 

Through pricks and barbs who poke and prod,

I discover where my sweetness levels fall.

Every puncture point leaves its mark

in my memories,

its scars upon my heart.

 

If I’ve been too kind and caring,

left myself wide open and vulnerable,

it’s time to serve up a shot of cynicism,

and remember

that the world doesn’t love

the same way that I do.

 

If I’ve lost my sweet edge

and ventured to the sour side,

I must feast on love and laughter,

and the follies of furry four-footed friends

until all is right with the world once more.

 

Should I choose not to check

and let ignorance be bliss,

I know I’ll not survive.

 

Diabetes or Life?

 

Either way,

you prick me and I bleed.