Pop beads.
You remember them.
Plastic, in white or pink.
Pop ‘em on. Pop ‘em off,
accessorize or not.
Kind of like he treated her.
Pop-it beads: a 1950s fad. Anybody else remember them?
love
Starry Starry Night
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.
Before the Dawn
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
Thankful
Your cardiac arrest
like a lifetime –
until it wasn’t.
The Reader
Grocery cart near, she sits
tattered book in lap,
mutters, sometimes yells
talks aloud to no one.
Page eight, crawl through,
into that letter E, straight lines.
They won’t follow, can’t see me.
I fit in this book! FLAT SPINE!
Invisible. I hide in air,
melt on pages with big letters.
Home is no where. Go ahead.
Jump into the story. Whatever it is.
Show them. I AM SOMETHING!
She stands up, unsteady,
lands on top of book,
face first in torn pica print.
And she disappears
from your corner,
into a pauper’s grave.
Photo credit: Wikipedia
Memories
Drifting, thinking back
his face floats in and through her
suspended in time.
Moments
Wayward cells grow
the shy speak, the far come near
love surrounds as body dissipates
defiance gives way to destiny
present dissolves from gift to waiting place
angels kneel, ushers ready to rise,
battle almost won.
His tears, moist on her parched lips
she rattle sighs
and her spirit soars.
Together
Entwined, enraptured,
engulfed in joy.
Lying still with heavy breath,
my lips rest on your shoulder
taste the sweet salt of love
Christmas Memories
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.
Seth and June
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 