The Long-Awaited Goodbye

Letting Go - Simone Held Deviant Art

Photo Credit: Simone Held – Letting Go, on Deviant Art

Subtle are the cracks they excavate in
consciousness – to sabotage a mind;
the breach widens with every daunting 
twist in life’s unyielding plot we find.

They unleash such vengeful captives,
disturb the peace as they take flight.
A heart feels for the wrongly accused,
foolishly indulges in their plight.

In pursuit, repression and denial
apply cruel logic to dry the eyes.
Fugitives ardently deny their guilt –
flimsy grounds sustain fresh alibis.

Wisdom wades into murky waters,
offers up an emotional defence,
“They meant no harm in picking up
the sordid pieces after these events!”

The inmates’ revolt, it seems, was just;
each suppression wrought more shame.
We embraced before I let them go;
as they dispersed my freedom came.

Cosmic Shift

Matisse - Le Bonheur de Vivre

Matisse – Le Bonheur de Vivre

“Faith and love; what
elegant, irrational schemes.
Fables made of hungry minds,
cooked-up in our dreams.”

Time eventually summons
celestial bodies in the rift.
Alchemy enters the fray,
sets the stage for a cosmic shift.

A new perspective widens the lens,
opens the world to a fresh set of eyes.
The caustic veil gradually lifts,
beauty throws off its modest disguise.

The universe rejoices when
kindred spirits come together.
Those who battle with love on their side,
easily resist the cruelest of weather.

Years of bitter appraisals,
sweetened with a beloved kiss.
A swell of amorous sentiment,
walls of reason gladly dismissed.

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Forever Road

Memory GhostOn a dark road, physics conspires with human frailty;
wheels set in motion toward an inconceivable end.
Strangers advancing in their separate ways
will tragically meet, just around the bend.

Her mind’s eye is trained on the chasm between she
and others; reproachful voices fill her head.
Regrets cascade swiftly from her broken body,
drawn away forever, lost in seas of red.

Sixteen hours since the freshman left for
home, he carries on despite such weary eyes.
Roused awake, he soars across the hood,
a family forever haunted by the surprise.

The journey between past and future winds through
countless moments, each joined together by the breath.
Until the last, when future never comes, past exists
in memory, and the road forever ends in death.

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A Life at Sea

PHOTO CREDIT - G.L. MacMillan

PHOTO CREDIT – G.L. MacMillan

Since he was a child, Damon spent his summers at the cottage wading along the surf, collecting bottles washed up on shore. He wrote elaborate chronicles of their journey, instilled in them a history to dignify their existence as cast-offs. 

“I kept every story,” Myriam said, weeping.

“They became increasingly sullen over the years,” whispered Harold.

The opening lines from their son’s final story, published posthumously after his death by suicide:

A boy, cast away at sea like an empty bottle, drifted for years in search of land. He became a man among the lonely depths; the darkness having claimed his life before his weathered body was found.

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This has been an installment of the Friday Fictioneers Challenge. If you would like to give the challenge a try, start at Rochelle’s Purple Blog and join the fun.

Here’s the concept: A weekly picture is posted, and the writer is challenged to produce one-hundred (more or less) words of some sort of fiction with a complete plot (beginning, middle and end).

The Anniversary

FF Image - Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

PHOTO CREDIT: Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

“Mister Sam!” yelped Rosalyn, rushing through the door.

“Rosie?” groaned Seamus, prone on the floor.

“You crash into the tree in your yard!”

“Did I?”

The clacking of designer high heels stopped beside him.

“Hey Bukowski, we had a date,” huffed Shelagh.

“The chandelier is extraordinary. I hadn’t noticed until just now,” Seamus remarked.

“Rosie, hose him down and torch the place,” Shelagh said, lighting a cigarette, stepping over Seamus.

It had been a year since Charlotte’s death from cancer. Shelagh hoped a housecleaning and brunch at the country club might lift her widower son’s spirits, but it seemed hopeless in the circumstances.

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This has been an installment of the Friday Fictioneers Challenge. If you would like to give the challenge a try, start at Rochelle’s Purple Blog and join the fun.

Here’s the concept: A weekly picture is posted, and the writer is challenged to produce one-hundred (more or less) words of some sort of fiction with a complete plot (beginning, middle and end).

Vanished Flowers, Faded Stars

PHOTO CREDIT - Raina Ng

PHOTO CREDIT – Raina Ng

“The peonies in the yard; they’re sublime,” she said. So we set our roots there on a whim. Our family blossomed, nourished by a mixture of love and hope.

The kids launched themselves down the balustrade and imagined space-walks to the kitchen; in the simple light fixtures astronauts loitered among ‘the brilliant stars.’

Time and complacency starved the delight that sustained our home. I agonize over how luminous cosmic lights simply fade; how a marriage flounders in the undergrowth of enmity.

“When did the peonies vanish?” I said.

“I don’t know.”

She closed the door as I left our house for the last time.

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This has been an installment of the Friday Fictioneers Challenge. If you would like to give the challenge a try, start at Rochelle’s Purple Blog and join the fun.

Here’s the concept: A weekly picture is posted, and the writer is challenged to produce one-hundred (more or less) words of some sort of fiction with a complete plot (beginning, middle and end).

Have fun and happy writing!

THE ADVENTURES OF THOMAS AND LINGUINE: EMPEROR CONCERTO AND THE CATS CURSE

PHOTO CREDIT - C. Hase

PHOTO CREDIT – C. Hase

(A continuation of last week’s Friday Fictioneers entry: The Adventures of Thomas and Linguine: The Battle Against the Forces of Negativity)

“Do you smell that?” Linguine winced.

Thomas took a sniff. “Festering onions, liver, and black tea,” he concluded.

“Old Curmudgeon has unleashed her Hectoring Halitosis in these parts.”

Wilted flowers and dazed hummingbirds stunned by wafts of smelly, incessant criticism, lined the shore.

“Why?” asked Thomas.

“She conspires with Andrew Lloyd Webber to rob your dreams of goodness and replace it with horrendous ‘Memories.’ We sail to Cheeseville at once!”

“Every sappy line of Cats drives me insane! I’ll turn into a Vegetable,” cried Thomas.

“Beauty and truth always win,” said Emperor Concerto, who would know.

The trio sailed off on a high note.

*****

Beethoven: Piano Concerto No.5 In E Flat Major Op.73 -“Emperor” – Krystian Zimerman on piano with Leonard Bernstein conducting the Wiener Philharmoniker

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This has been an installment of the Friday Fictioneers Challenge. If you would like to give the challenge a try, start at Rochelle’s Purple Blog and join the fun.

Here’s the concept: A weekly picture is posted, and the writer is challenged to produce one-hundred (more or less) words of some sort of fiction with a complete plot (beginning, middle and end).

Have fun and happy writing!