1390 - No Promises

 

Image by ChatGPT

The Sunday Whirl presents these twelve words for us to use in a creative writing piece.  

churn secret battle names glimpse cradle skins dragons stir flash fringe illusion

Poets & Storyteller's prompt is "Celebration".  I merged the two.

No Promises

“Realize deeply that 

the present moment

is all you ever have.”

- Eckhart Tolle.

The stomach churns.

I don’t want to believe it.  

But I must.

The dragons of fear 

Cast long shadows.

Shadows that foretell

Nameless loss and pain.

Pain with names too.

Do I battle?  Fight it?

Can I fight it?

◊

No secrets held here,

It is a waiting game.

A glimpse of hope

Not a flash, a flicker,

Stirs now and then.

Is it an illusion?

A soft cradle of hope?

◊

A fringe technique

With a name too long

And no promises.

Is it a cure?

Or just a delay?

Is it too early to celebrate?

Only time will tell.

◊

Time does tell—

Silence.

◊

1389 - A Separate Peace

 

Image by ChatGPT

The Sunday Whirl presents these twelve words for us to use in a creative writing piece.  

face fire fists walk brewing back only true space piece mission laugh

Poets & Storyteller's prompt is "Survive out of spite".  I merged the two.

A Separate Peace

Care about what others think

and you will always be their prisoner.

- Lao Tzu

Pity.

I pity you.

The fire you carry

Can only consume you.

It shows in your face,

In your fists, in your eyes.

All of it wasted on me.

My goal,

My mission,

Is to laugh at you,

To laugh openly

At the emotions

That are constantly

Brewing, 

Infusing your life,

With an acidic phlegm—

Corroding the vessel

That contains them.

It is not my role 

To reflect them back at you, 

Neither magnified, nor reduced, 

Just ignored.

That is the greatest revenge,

To make and hold a space

Where I am constant and true

To my own values,

To walk my own path.

To not to give you a piece of my mind,

But to create a peace within my mind,

A separate peace.

◊

1388 - Bedding Down Sydney

 

Bedding Down Sydney

The Opera house—

"Nuns in a scrum".

The harbour bridge

Coat-hanger to some.

Bondi Beach is there

If water's your thing.

The Botanical Gardens

(Give croquet a fling.)

The Rocks are there, Sydney v1,

Much is changed, much the same.

The Art Gallery, of course,

The reason we came.

I'm sure there was plenty to do,

But the trip was over

When it was just beginnin'.

"So what stands out of it for you?"

Well, the hotels do have 

Some lovely linen.

◊

1387 - Stars can Be Seen

 

Image by ChatGPT

The Sunday Whirl presents twelve words for us to use in a creative writing piece.  

 

This week's words are:

hunter beast tracks confess words relic inky drift echo holy stars magic

Stars Can Be Seen.

"The stars are always there, 

even when we can't see them."

– Anonymous

Within the woods

The beasts still roam.

Some leave tracks

Others leave just echos,

Heard faintly, drifting

In the trees and glens

Of that holy land.

The echoes, returning voices,

That tease and taunt,

Like hunters stalking,

Wearing down their prey.

Words, phrases, memories,

Relics of a past life,

Hit their target,

Drawing confessions

Opening nagging wounds,

Sapping the energy.

◊

But the woods are alive

With much more than 

The hunter and the hunted.

Beneath the inky black sky

Where, like magic, the moon 

And stars can be seen—

The gamekeeper watches.

◊

1386 - The Chosen

 

Image by ChatGPT

The Chosen

She wrote to me.
Her profile

Looked promising—
No dancing.
No boardgames.
No mention of football.
No jazz clubs.

I wrote back to her.
We wrote to each other.
Her words were light—
Friendly, engaging.
We called.  We chatted.
I talked too much.  Nerves.
She sounded sweet.
A lovely laugh.

Coffee somewhere,
The standard meeting,
Was arranged.

I thought I had
A good sense of her:
What she was like,
What she would be like.

But nothing prepared me
For what stepped off
The 75 tram
And into my life.

◊

1385 - The Fairy's Request

 

Image by ChatGPT

The Fairy's Request

It was a simple question.
Formal sounding—
Old world and charming.
And yet, and yet...
It set the heart a-pounding.

An invitation 
To a dance,
To advance,
To hold,
Perchance to dream.
To seem as if, as if
Within a dream
Of a dream.

Who can really tell?
Who can even guess
What emotions would swell?

"May I have the honour...?"

Yes.

◊

1384 - The Old Woman of the River

 

Image by ChatGPT

The Sunday Whirl presents twelve words for us to use in a creative writing piece.  

 

This week's words are:

radar string eyes haunted legends swing rattle river skin tip pebble rips

I didn't find a place for radar and string.

The Old Woman of the River

“Time is a river which carries me along, but I am the river.”

— Jorge Luis Borges

The river swirls and burbles

Over pebbles, sand and rocks.

Flowers swing to and fro

On its grassy banks.

If it has any thoughts

It keeps them to itself.

◊

All they found was the rattle.

Did it draw him forward, inward?

Until he tipped, fought briefly

And then, wide-eyed, 

With an innocent curiosity

Became the river—

Not ripped from life,

Eased gently from it.

◊

She sits and watches

The swirling waters—

Its bubbles and its ripples

Dancing on the surface,

The skin between two worlds.

Her haunted eyes look deep

Yet somehow blankly.

Legends are unreliable

But a popular thought flows

Through the village people

That she has always been there,

Always looking in to the waters—

Remembering.  Waiting.  Hoping.

◊

The river swirls and burbles

Over pebbles, sand and rocks.

Flowers swing to and fro

On its grassy banks.

If it has any thoughts

It keeps them to itself.

◊