Childhood (Haiku)

Hi all,

I am happy to share a pair of haikus for Haiku Heights. The theme is childhood.

I am running wild
Without direction chasing
Shadows through the green

And drink in the sky
As a river guides me to
Footprints of my youth

Birdie (O.S.I.)

Hi all,

Here is a poem for O.S.I. and the theme is birdie. Hope you enjoy!

Hopeless gaze into the sky
A lonely boy with vacant eyes
Spots a birdie, his alone
A winged friend to follow home

Whispers Of A Girl

Hi all,

This is a poem I discovered in my notebook a few months back. I'm happy to share with all of you. Have a blessed and happy weekend:

Whispers
Of the girl
I used to be
With quiet eyes
Wishful knowing
Time to grow
My inner longing
Life is slow
Dreams are drowning

Whispers of the girl
I used to be
Fear’s the only monster
I’ll be leaving
I am growing
Determined rowing
To my isles of destiny

The Bubble Squad

Hi all,

Happy October. To begin this month’s posts, I chose the short story prompt over at Bluebell Books. The image is inspired by Charlottes Fancy. I hope you enjoy the child's play in this piece.

Kent couldn’t take his eyes off of bubbles. They had this radioactive glow in sunlight. He watched them until they burst onto pavement. It took the shape of our summer: one beautiful, brief burst.

“Man, we’re too old for this crap,” Matt declared. He cocked his Cubs hat sideways. “Kent, quit staring at those bubbles. Ya big dummy!” He started snapping his fingers in Kent’s face but Kent wouldn’t budge. He was content in the land of bubbles.

“I think the sun fried his brains,” I sighed. Hannah didn’t listen to us complaining. She found the simple joy of summer pursing her lips and releasing her bubbles into the wind. And Kent was her lone but eager spectator.

“Ah hell, I’m a man amongst boys,” Matt spat and he slung his ball from view. “Seriously, don’t you guys wanna play catch? You know I need practice for the JV squad.”

“Nah, I like watching Kent drool,” I laughed.

“Hey, it’s the Bubble Squad,” Sandy shouted. She and Tiffany sped their bikes around the corner to taunt us. I turned to face nasty, no-good Sandy. But she was suddenly charming with that Kool-Aid red dye in her hair. Her cheeks were flushed with a special summer glow.

“Yea, it’s the Bubble Squad. You guys suck,” Tiffany taunted. The insult was enough to wake Kent form his stupor.

“Get lost girls,” Matt threatened and he raised his left fist at Sandy.

“I’d like to see you try it,” she fired back. Sandy was a few inches taller than Matt with her mean, bulldog smile. I felt giddy staring into her cold, heartless eyes. It was the beginning of love and madness.

“Let’s be mature about this guys.” My old man had said something like that before. I gave Sandy a sloppy grin and winked at her. She shot me a dirty look before speeding away on her bike. Tiffany reluctantly followed after her.

“Why did you defend Psycho Sandy,” Matt snapped. “Are you in love, doofus?” I could feel my face turning beet red. “Lay off the girls. They’re poison,” he laughed. He shared a smile with me and ruffled my hair.

We felt the first autumn wind brush against our faces as the bubbles, girls, and baseball drifted away in the final days of summer.

Little Sun

Hi all,

I've written this short story for Thursday Tales. I like the idea of dipping into longer prose and this photo provides lovely inspiration. The artist is Einshine at DeviantArt.

Amy Lee hated the white walls in her father’s office. Sometimes, she waited for hours staring blankly at the blinds. The sunlight was visible and teased her. Saturdays were most unpleasant here, she thought. She watched the stone faced people file in gray suits. They didn’t smile, laugh, or talk. She stuck out her tongue at them. The gray suits marched in anger and scolded her.

Secretary Wan was very kind to the young girl. “Come here little sun,” she laughed. She coaxed Amy Lee towards a glass table and magic marker.

“This is a special, magic marker. You can imagine anything with your mind and put it here.”

“I wish I could paint my father’s walls,” Amy Lee sighed.

“Use your imagination,” Wan instructed. Amy Lee took the blank notebook and marker. She laid her elbows on the cold, glass table and noticed her own reflection. The room did not inspire her. Restless, she swung her legs back and forth and banged into the table. Secretary Wan rushed over to her young guest.

“Little Sun, what’s wrong?” Wan raised her brows in horror. Amy Lee didn’t answer but crossed her little arms.

“I don’t feel like drawing! I want to go out and play,” Amy Lee shouted. Her voice echoed and stung Wan.

“You can’t leave the lobby,” Wan informed her. Amy Lee’s eyes grew thick and blue and tears began falling down.

“Don’t cry Little Sun. I am a very good artist and shall make something for you.” Amy Lee dried up her tears and tugged at her skirt.

“Please draw for me! I’d like that very much.” Wan leaned in and pressed the magic marker against paper. Amy Lee gasped as a yellow butterfly flew from her pen. It was sweet and yellow like her shirt. She framed the butterfly around pretty, pink roses and green stems. She filled the whole paper with butterflies and flowers. Amy Lee danced in a beautiful meadow of art.

“Can I keep it,” Amy Lee exclaimed.

“Of course, Little Sun. And I have one more surprise in store.” Amy Lee hopped at the word surprise. She giggled and clasped her hands against her face. Secretary Wan rolled out a projector and filled the white walls with beautiful art.

Her father had emerged and glanced at Secretary Wan. “I hope my little Amy Lee has been no trouble.”

“Oh no, Mr. Lee. She’s been very sweet. Little Sun and I have spent the day making art.”

Ruby

Hi bloggers,

Here is another edition of Thursday Tales. The beautiful photo above is by Katja Faith.

She had fallen into one of her great revelries. She tried to hide herself from her darkest thoughts. The night was black and starless. The air was desolate and hot. She was trapped in a haunting world and balled herself up in a cocoon. Tears streamed down her cheeks like rain, and her hair fluttered like a raven.

When she closed her eyes, she saw a painted doll. Her lips grew like a soft, red rose. Her arms were the color of striped candy cane and polka-dotted like a ladybug. Her hair was long and velvet, and a red ribbon danced towards her. She saw a twinkle from her ruby, red shoes. She thought of Dorothy. She thought of home. A light flickered in the horizon. A soft, yellow breeze kissed her cheeks.

When she woke up, she was greeted by the breath of the hot sun. Summer swirled and buzzed about her. Her eyes observed the clear, blue skies. She puffed out her cheeks like the clouds and exhaled. The dark world of her nightmare vanished.

The young doll of her dreams laid beside her. She was red and white, polka-dotted and striped. Loneliness melted in the doll’s soft, brown eyes. She laughed, kissed her, and called her Ruby.