This is short and simple, but I decided to share my response to FFFC #83 with the Writers’ Pantry. I tried to write something hopeful / whimsical to combat these “ominous times.”
This is quite a magical place:
Green grass, several paths, blue sky.
Untold adventures to embrace,
As clouds are sailing way up high.
I am sharing this poem with today’s Writers’ Pantry. It’s a shadorma that I wrote this morning. I intended to post something else but honestly think this is the best poem I’ve written recently that hasn’t already been posted.
cast in mist,
the future’s blurry
past is missed,
and today
must be content with distance,
masks and Lysol spray
For this week’s Weekly Scribblings, we are to write inspired by the phrase “A phoenix must first burn.” I wasn’t in the mood to write anything triumphant, so this cherita is where my brain took me this evening.
I don’t want to hear about the phoenix anymore.
No more rising from the ashes anymore,
Who made me a mythical firebird?
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust you shall return —
I don’t mind whether there’s a rising,
At this point solely stop the burning.
Rosemary is hosting this Sunday’s Writers’ Pantry.
It’s an unprompted link-up, but she did talk about Shel Silverstein and shared one of his poems. That inspired this cherita, since I was a fan of his children’s poetry when I was in elementary school. I had forgotten about that until Rosemary helped me remember. 🙂
As a child in the library, I read his books of poetry:
Those whimsical, silly rhymes planted poet-seeds,
Also containing lessons waiting to germinate.
Today, encountering these words, they speak to me
Of truths I have only just begun learning,
Of letting the words start blooming.
This is inspired by FOWC: Drain and today’s Weekly Scribblings about rest.
I see it: the way the pain drains you.
You say it with the slightly-labored breathing
And the careful, painstaking way you move.
You say it when a grin shifts into a grimace
And in your reluctance to make many movements.
I love you: saying this with a cup of cold water
And many prayers which you will never hear.
How I wish you could have a restful rest,
Without the flaming, aching joints and muscles
Which are giving a relentless test.
This cherita is for FDDA day 30, about our best job, and FOWC: Covered. I am also linking with today’s Writers’ Pantry.
I am covered with love, even in the memories
Of my old job, children running to hug me
Even if they hated practicing math.
Before COVID divided people from each other,
It subtracted my job, but I hope that “my kids”
Will remember me positively, even if time multiplies.
For today’s Weekly Scribblings, we are considering our foundations. I am also sharing this with FOWC: Nothing. Special thanks to Sarah for her beautiful and life-filled poem Walking at the Edge. Although the topic is much different, I read her poem earlier today and was inspired by the life in her poem, and I felt like her poem contained a “ferocious optimism,” hence the title and inspiration for this poem.
Yes:
Every breath means she
Is not drowned underneath
New, bad news arriving daily.
Yes:
Every step means she
Has not allowed depression
To render her inert, bedridden.
Yes:
Every trembling of the Earth she
Wonders if this is the “Big One;”
Somehow there’s still a foundation.
Yes:
Every morning means she
Breathes, steps, and wonders anew
That nothing has beaten her too blue.
This décima is for this week’s challenge and for FOWC: Rocket. I am also linking to the Writers’ Pantry.
Off this planet I wish to go,
On a fast rocket want to ride:
Country’s two sides cannot abide,
More rancor it is hard to show.
So many politicians blow
Hot air; can it be used to fuel
My rocket ship? Such fighting cruel,
And very little’s looking good.
So much distrust, I think most would
Think my rocket-ship ride sounds cool.
A quick write for FOWC: Missing and for today’s Weekly Scribblings, using the phrase “swallow screams for dinner.” This got dark; sorry.
Crazy society makes my
Appetite go missing :
I try to fast from fear,
To find more courage quickly —
But I only swallow screams
For dinner.
An unprompted poem shared with today’s Writers’ Pantry.
I am blessed to be Your lamb,
Seeing Your kindness,
Kept safe through the raging storms,
Led to happiness.
Held with care inside Your arms,
In the darkest valley,
My head buried in Your heart,
Full of peace and mercy.
Let me never wander far:
To You leads the brightest star.
