In the darkest of nights
ceiling light turned on
pin pricked scrim draped overhead,
we lie down upon our bed
and revel as the stars appear,
even in our quiet room.
dVerse Poetics Tuesday: First time joining this group. The prompt today is to write about stars….during these winter nights before the winter solstice, their light is symbolic to so many.
In the darkness of early morn
candle light multiplies.
Glows softly upon the shelf
reflects in window panes
and illuminates my soul.
Photo credit: debbie miller
Your cardiac arrest
like a lifetime –
until it wasn’t.
Mother’s Day. Exhausted, incredulous. Home from the parade, she sat sipping sherry, flipping through albums. Pictures of children covered in yellow feathers. Thirty years of moms pushing buggies, pulling wagons, kids quacking.
Roberta surprised her this year. Came cross-country for this Boston tradition. And her costume! She manipulated poles so the wings stretched six feet above the crowds. More like a chicken but no mind. She drew oohs and ahs.
Mrs. McCloskey smiled through tears. Make Way for Ducklings, Caldecott book and so much more. How proud her father would be. His legacy for this city’s children and the world!
100 words. Written for Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ Friday Fictioneers. Rochelle provides a photo for a 100-word story. Tales vary widely. Photo this week is by Luther Siler.
Make Way for Ducklings by Robert McCloskey, first published in 1941. A Caldecott Medal Winner it motivated a popular sculpture in Boston’s Public Gardens of Mrs. Mallard and her ducklings, and the annual mothers’ day Ducklings parade.
Jewels among the snow
smiling holly berry red
nature’s winter cheer.
Photo credit: Joshua Davis
Entwined, enraptured,
engulfed in joy.
Lying still with heavy breath,
my lips rest on your shoulder
taste the sweet salt of love
Fourth grade mimic,
knee socks rolled down to puffy anklets
like sophisticated high school girls.
Three nickels clink and plunk,
bus fare to my Saturday dream.
Past Neisner’s Five and Dime
where the mynah bird sqwaks at little fingers,
guards balls and jacks in the wooden cubby.
One aisle over from ladies cotton underpants.
Past Durkin and Durkins, that grown-up place
where daddy buys one suit, every other year.
And there it is, bakery supreme.
Plastic number thirty-four, I wait and wait.
One chocolate éclair please.
Deep, yellow, cold, smooth custard
slathered between puffy sweet dough,
cut in uneven halves. Lips first lick
dark chocolate swirled on top.
Nothing ever tasted so good,
standing on linoleum floor
in black and white saddle shoes,
knee socks rolled down.
Photo Credit: Daniel West. Day 3 Winter Poetry Challenge: Write about a candy or something sweet that you loved as a child.
Red glass ball,
LILLIAN in first-grade teacher print.
Fragile, egg-shell-thin pink bell.
Crooked winged, the airplane flies
above crayoned Santa, sparse cotton beard,
black boots colored outside the lines.
Me, mother, daddy and my big brother Chuck.
All gone now, save me,
and their three ornaments
carefully hung at the top of the tree.
houseboat river meander
sun glistened water
rain ping roof and ripple swish base
doe eyes stare from woods across
myriad shades of green
priceless time away
feeds my soul
soothes my mind
city life be gone
He lived in the pink house, she in the white. They grew up together laughing, climbing the hillside, riding the school bus. No one was surprised when he proposed. It was quietly assumed. Seth and June.
Just days after the wedding, his unit was called. She wept and he promised to return.
Eight months of living with her folks. Skyping when possible, through static and frozen image. And now she sat, secret intact. Large belly pressed against the pane, a new life about to enter theirs. She waited for him to round the bend. Promise fulfilled and multiplied by two.
100 words. Photo Credit: Sandra Crook — basis for this week’s Friday Fictioneers flash fiction challenge by Rochelle Wisoff.
lillian the home poet 