Wait.

In this moment I am breathing. Breath rises. Breath falls. This is a gift. From somewhere I have been presented with life. In this moment, I am aware. There is movement all around me, but I am silent. I am still. Cars zip past on the avenue, their engines puncturing the quiet. Inside there is a life, or lives travelling. Hurrying. Trying not to miss something. The thing they seek is here, in my breathing. This gift is all we have.

To stop is not to fail. To rest is not to miss out. To be is sometimes enough.

The old book says, "those who wait on the LORD, will renew their strength" 

human

beside yourself
not quite you
out of your mind
under the weather
getting there
the worse for wear

not bad
but then again

need prayer...

clocks go back

At this juncture,
every so often,
we let our clocks call out
that time does not exist
and we submit
(allow them power),
to jump-start us into early darkness
bring hibernation to the spirit,
and rise and rest
at the nick of their ticking;

so let the blackness settle
our moods are drawing in,
to hide in caves of comfort,
heating tired feet and minds,
mourning our loss,
afraid to let the light from inside
out,
or celebrate the death of life reborn,
when living through the passing of the night...

Once in a while,
let your clocks go back
and back
and back,
to black and white,
and
listen to their sighs,
read the silence in their eyes,
glean wisdom from the wise, 
who let their clocks insist
that time did not exist...

The One Show 10 word story competition

 Here in the UK, we have a programme called "The One Show" and they are running a competition this week. Write a story in ten words. Sounds simple. I marvelled at the example of  Hemmingway's concise six words which reveal so much with such brevity and poignancy. 

I posted this in case any bloggers fancied entering or trying your hand at a ten word story. I spent much of the afternoon trying to come up with something. It was difficult!

Read all about the competition below:

The One Show

TV Show · 49,743 likes

Can you write a story in just 10 words?

Richard & Judy are on the show next Wednesday to talk about their search for a new bestselling author. So we thought we’d see if we could find the best writers amongst our One Show audience.

So since it’s said that Ernest Hemmingway once wrote a “novel” in only six words

“For sale: baby shoes, never worn”

We thought we’d ask you to send us in your stories in just ten words.They can be in any genre; love, horror or suspense, they just have to be ten words long.

So get writing and send us your very short stories. Send it with your name, age and where you are from. email us on theoneshow@bbc.co.uk or post it here. Get creative....


And, here's my attempt (in less than ten words)

Stars of David surrendered, herded into shower blocks, we...

Repeat Prescription

fun addict
sun addict
marathon run addict
pain addict
train addict
new muscle gain addict
smoke addict
coke addict
laughter and joke addict
sport addict
port addict

prescribe yourself God.


FIFA addict
COD addict
grand theft auto 5 addict
i-phone addict
wi-fi addict
virgin and sky addict
wealthy addict
selfie addict
trying to be healthy addict
food addict
good addict

prescribe yourself God.

buckie addict
lucky addict
cash in the attic addict
porn addict
scorn addict
sad and forlorn addict
sex addict
hex addict
text and Tex-Mex addict
hair addict
prayer addict

prescribe yourself God.

love addict
glove addict
push comes to shove addict
fitness addict
witness addict
countdown to christmas addict
small addict
tall addict
going to the mall addict
spring, summer,
fall addict

prescribe yourself God

church addict
mosque addict
temple, synagogue addict
hate addict
weight addict
avoiding being late addict
darwin addict
marlin addict
business is the business addict
pill addict
thrill addict

prescribe yourself God...

 

posted on poets united poetry pantry #169

...rejecting the science of love...

shooting out across this space
spun aboard this mirror ball
no thread or safety net
alleviating threat,
just hanging
and 
evolving at the perfect pace
(some say)
to find us face to face;

sure skeptics can believe
we were not meant to be,
a chance encounter
surging from some 
mass
atomic 
spread;
 
but facts are facts:
i am secure 
and you were there
and you are here
for all i know
(words left unsaid)
the world's a snugger place
when tucked inside our room
atop a planet's pirouette 
i wake again
on your side of the bed.

Rain

... pouring rain,
is typing down,
in clicking bursts of
punctuation on the patio
rhetoric in the residue,
letters to the land, 
one question mark
or two...
 
a season ends 
and brings
the fury of the dove
up close again
(send her deep) 

in rainfall 
it's you,
who asks the earth to 
whisper back,
to sleep,
or to remain awhile.
 
perfect rain
casts out fear,
no question asked, 
no quarter given,
aiming shards of deluged heaven
(soak in)
on doubtful ground

and suddenly 
no sound.

Bolt (100 words)

The gun cracks and fires everyone to life again. The stretched elastic seconds of hush are released. I unfurl my back and my legs piston into motion.  I zone out, channel the crescendo of  voices, the frenzy of emotion and never let go of the line. Colours are liquid, bobbing in the distance and I am moving across my dance floor. I am a hunted gazelle in a cheetah's body rushing to freedom. And all too soon I am pointing. Draping the flag around my shoulders. Joining the party and dancing. Touching skin in a volley of high-fives. I am untouchable.



Photo copyright Daily Mail.



old friends

apparetif voices meet in mid-air
cadence cracked, unbroken,
gushing from well-remembered yesterdays,
before the main dish is served:
an embrace
with hearty helpings of
chatting and cherishing
tasting their heritage:
private punchlines pulled from the past
memories long gone,
supping stories,
turning time meaningless,
eyes go glistening
with a tear or two,
a laugh, a nod,
a sip, a swallow,
of who they were,
forgetting, re-forging,
savouring on their palates
the food and drink
of their history.

thursday foreshadow

just a
(thought):
who taught the rope
to be taut?

and what if it
forgot?








Note:
This little question came into my head as I went to hang the washing out today. I grabbed my pen and wrote it down and then returned to the job. Mysteriously, after I'd hung half of the washing out, the washing line forgot to be taut and all of the washing landed on the ground! Got to admit, this has me puzzled but in a good sort of way :)

Posted on Poetry Jam
http://poetryjaam.blogspot.co.uk/2013/08/poetic-visions.html

existentialist chicken question...

Would every single stricken chicken,
feathers plucked and out of luck,
headless,
legs pulled as your lips smack
through another hurried lunch,
prefer to roost
and cluck
and lay
another
egg for you today?






posted on dverse open link night 108.
http://dversepoets.com/2013/08/06/open-link-night-week-108/