Union

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Uninformed in a cloudless sky

Who are the keepers of wisdom?

Hand in hand, you and I

Building a pauper’s kingdom

 

We took the light from a thousand fireflies,

Stealing the flicker from each one

Danced in their glow on a moonless night

Betraying the darkness ‘til dawn

 

Landing on feet wrapped in tin cans

With each step bled out the life we’d led

Sweet, the fragrance of sacrifice

Marked, scarred by mistakes in life

Treasured, deceit that led to right

 

Glorious the days that made us grieve

Battles won, tasted the victory

In the end knowing where we stand

Conquered the foes, hand in hand

 

 

Credit: photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/paperpariah/2425651754/”>Adam Foster | Codefor</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a&gt; <a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/”>cc</a&gt;

Before

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I thought not of the careless days,

For there would be no more

I thought not of your tender ways,

Left in that place called ‘before’

 

Gathered my memories in guilty hands

I’ll confess to the fool who understands

Wisdom gifted me to learn -

Only a fire that’s fed will burn

 

I set myself ablaze with the past

Hungry flames licked my skin;

From a well where no thirst lasts

I’ve come to live again

 

Thank you for taking the time to read and please feel free to share your thoughts…

Image courtesy of photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/a6u571n/3207185886/”>A6U571N</a&gt; via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a&gt; <a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/”>cc</a&gt;)

 

A Kind of Eden

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Under the glow of a neon light

Flashing cheap rooms for rent

We buried our needs in one another,

My loneliness found yours,

Together they entwined,

We believed ourselves in love

For a moment;

Sunlight, violent in its accusation,

Pointed a finger across the dusty room,

Casting shadows on soiled sheets

There we were, knowing;

No more would we walk in the Garden

 

(photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/mdconnell/7688521744/”>Michael Connell</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a&gt; <a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/”>cc</a&gt;)

Recalibrating

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I’m a positive person, really I am. When I write, though, dark emotions, sarcasm, misfits and moody extremes find their way onto the page. I’ve tried to write of sunshine and lollipops – just doesn’t work out for me. Every once in a while something of pure sweetness will bubble up, but it’s not my norm.

It’s strange because I’m one of those people who look for the solution instead of the problem in most situations. Isn’t that the joy of writing, though? To be able to dive into situations different from our own? To be able to explore characters unlike ourselves?

Oh yeah, if it isn’t obvious, I’m back! I took a break, as per my last post, but I’m easing into my new routine and plan to post every couple of weeks. I’m working on another book of flash fiction, and always writing poetry. I may never see an end to that novel that hides in the shadows of my thoughts, but I’m plugging along word by word on various projects.

I hope you all have been well. To my fellow bloggers, I’ve missed you and your blogs in my necessary absence and look forward to visiting you all again soon!

 

Some recent work…

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Recalibrating

 

Imperfect, to err is my way

Life opened to impossibility,

Never did I see the wave coming

That washed over me;

Sublime in the moment, the

Consequences painful, unbearable;

Blinders removed, the light is searing,

Purifying, awakening

 

And I am here – understanding little,

A microcosm of the why;

Wisdom earned in the soul, both a

Balm and a blister on the heart

 

Promises of mercy echo in my mind,

Once believed abandoned, yet I hear

His voice, a gentle affirmation of love,

A whisper of a peaceful tender offered…

Accepted.

 

PhotoPin: photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/pensiero/8488897662/”>Pensiero</a&gt; via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a&gt; <a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/”>cc</a&gt;

Temporary Goodbye

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I love blogging, sharing work, getting feedback and interacting with you all. I love writing – it’s a part of me on a cellular level :) I also like to eat. I need to work right now. I have been getting certified as a yoga instructor with the hopes of teaching. My part of the country is pretty rural and I didn’t know how yoga would go over around here. It’s turned out quite well! In fact, it’s gotten very, very busy. So much so that I’m opening a studio soon. I have to find some balance between the writing and my yoga business. Right now, getting the yoga business off the ground and running has to take priority over the blogging. I’ll still be writing, but I have to cut back on my blogging and blog stalking, for a little while. I will miss you all and will return, hopefully in a couple of months. Who knows? I may get a chance to throw a post up every once in a while, but I probably won’t get a chance to stalk your blogs for a while, which makes me sad. I wish you all happiness and success in your writing!

Supposition In the Language

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Oh damn, how he hurt me

While the drumbeat of desire pounded into my brain

He lost the rhythm;

 

All that remained floated in a detergent bubble

Blow it away – too late, it burst onto my flesh

And his, and hers, and theirs;

An attempted cleansing upon the landscape

 

Trouble digs with a plastic fork, splintering,

Hitting stone; eat the gleanings

Suffer not the innocent,

But the guilty

 

Let the ransom of two indebted hearts purchase

All that remains – starvation may ensue

 

PhotoPin: photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/kubina/166395815/”>Jeff Kubina</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a&gt; <a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/”>cc</a&gt;

Sunday Kind of Love

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I don’t usually put a story this long on here – it’s about 800 words, so I would still call this flash fiction. Let me know what you think. I’m breaking one of my self-imposed rules on story writing. Typically I’ll write a story, let it sit for a day or so, come back to it and then see if I really want to publish it. But I felt like throwing caution to the wind today and going for it. I may wish I’d kept to my rule if I discover some hideous mistake tomorrow! You’ll forgive me won’t you? Thanks always for reading…

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Sunday Kind of Love

Nothing could have startled Andrea more than when Martin whispered those words into her ear, especially since a crowd of people at St. Mark’s Worship Center surrounded them. The parishioners were greeting one another with handshakes and smiles. His whispered, “I love you” certainly didn’t come from a well of Christian love, but that of romantic depths. His hands lingered on hers longer than usual; his gaze seared his devotion into her eyes. Andrea’s cheeks flushed red. She feared everyone in the room saw her discomfort…and excitement. She realized right away that he knew he was being clever. He winked at her and continued into the crowd with the customary ‘hello’ and ‘good to see you’ greetings.

Andrea had no idea what the service was about. She didn’t hear a word the pastor spoke. Her skin reacted with gooseflesh every few minutes with  awareness that Martin’s eyes bore into her from a few rows back.

They’d met at the church. He’d sought her out for her natural talent with marketing. Although Andrea had never worked as such in an official capacity, she’d been very successful at organizing several events at the church, managing a great turnout every time. Martin approached Andrea to help him with his fledgling restaurant. He’d been successful in his venture at first, but the past year he’d only lost business and was desperate to turn it around. He made his case to Andrea. No doubt, she was interested in seeing what she was capable of doing in a real business setting. She smiled inside thinking of how someone recognized her for something, for anything. She smiled thinking of how someone needed her. She realized she hadn’t felt that way in a long time. Sure, she was appreciated at the church, but to have someone seek her out, recognizing a talent she had, made her feel special.

As Andrea sat in the pew next to her husband and three daughters, she thought of how she’d been brought to Martin through the church. She was a woman of deep faith, always turning to the Scriptures for guidance and understanding. This relationship with Martin was confusing her. He disarmed her with his charm, with his affection and attention. He knew it, too, as her rosy glow gave her away with every flirtation.

She’d grown quite used to simply being a mother and housemaid. Although Andrea was still a young woman at 34, she didn’t bother coloring the gray beginning to show in her hair or wearing lipstick anymore. The last time she did make an effort was for an evening out with her husband. She’d carefully applied her makeup, styled her hair and put on a new outfit. He glanced up at her and only said, “You ready? Where’s your coat?”

Martin noticed her, though. Of course, at first, she believed his intentions were purely about improving his restaurant. That changed one night when they met after the restaurant closed. The two of them sat together at one of the tables near the kitchen, writing out suggested plans for improvements. He looked into her eyes. Something, besides work, was on his mind. She thought she saw desire staring back at her.

“So, um, we were talking about the new layout, for the, um…the…” Her faced flushed and she was grateful the lights were low in the room.

“I don’t know what’s the matter with me Martin,” she tried to laugh, but her breath caught in her throat. “I must be tired because I’ve completely lost my train of thought.”

He smiled at her, one of those smiles that indicated amusement.

“You’re quite beautiful when you’re embarrassed. And when you’re not embarrassed. And when you’re sitting across from me.”

Andrea looked down at the pen in her hand. She didn’t know how to respond. No one had called her beautiful in years. She was taken completely off guard.

Martin spoke again. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I have to be honest, though. I’ve been attracted to you since the first moment I laid eyes on you.”

She realized the nerves, the flushing cheeks, the tingling she felt whenever he was near her was her attraction to him.

And there it was. Two adults, married to others, finding themselves caught in electrifying, unexpected, desire for each other. He’d confess to a ‘show’ of a marriage. She’d confess to feeling completely neglected. Thus ensued what each believed a new reality, a hope for something more than they ever imagined possible only a few weeks earlier.

The organist’s mishap with the unyielding instrument jarred Andrea back to the worship service.  The pastor was bringing the service to a close. Her husband was doodling on the bulletin, writing the initials of his name and her name and finally drawing a heart around them. Andrea’s gooseflesh disappeared. Nausea replaced the tingling in her body. Her husband did love her, in his own way. Now all Andrea needed to do was decide if it was enough.

And all God’s people said, “Amen.”

 

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