Death Of Spirit – Haiku

Written In Response To:

Word Of The Day Challenge – Sanctuary

Your Daily Word Prompt May 23, 2019 – Vague

Sue Vincent Thursday Photo Prompt:  Transition #writephoto – Use the image below as inspiration to create a post on your own blog… poetry, prose, humour… light or dark, whatever you choose.

transition

vague sanctuary

sought through world’s carnality

deathly transition

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#writephoto

 

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Vulnerable Limbo

Written In Response To:

dVerse Poetics:  Limbo

Sammi Cox Weekend Writing Prompt #103 – Vulnerable – This weekend your challenge is to write a poem or piece of prose in exactly 21 words.

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Lost in a season of limbo

deafening sounds of silence

soul…stripped bare naked

vulnerable beyond desire

intimacy with the Unknown.

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Word Count: 21

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Photo Credit:  Pinterest

Listless I Climb

Listless I Climb

These stairs I climb
seem to go on and on
a neverending trudge
to the land of promises
there’s no place to stop
there’s no place to take
a breath and rest to see
if the sun still shines
It seems as though
the promises will never come…
As I continue to climb
with a listless hope
my muscles writhe in anguish
I call for help yet…
silence is the only sound
I keep yearning for a
plateau with a bench
to rest this weary soul and body
but one never comes…
my breath becomes faint
and my eyes grow dim
desperate for light to shine
still, I cannot find the sun
maybe, soon, it will find me
and the promised promises
will finally become a reality
instead of only just a dream
hoped for…
Listless I climb
aching for the promises
to become mine.

Photo Credit:  Pinterest

Lost In A Crowded Room

Bikurgurl 100 Word Wednesday: Week 75

What 100 words would you give this image?

Image by Bikurgurl

Lost in a crowded room
so many people
one talking over the other
how did I get here?

I’d rather be there
where the peace is
and people speak
with indoor voices

I feel the Muse stirring
within…but the
distraction of loud
is so deafening

Can’t hear my Muse
I must try to find
the door to escape
so I can dwell in tranquil

The Muse must speak
I must write so that
the rhythm is not broken
or my spirit will taste death

For a poet to breathe words
the rhythm must flow
throughout their life
without end.

So The Legend Tells – A Short Tale

MLMM Sunday Writing Prompt – “It’s All In The Title”

Choose one or more titles and construct a poem or story around it.

Title:  The Day The Willows Shrieked

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The Willow Realm was once a beautiful place to dwell
filled with Special Willows so the legend tells
it was a place of peace and beauty enlightened
with the magical mist of Sun’s light and the Healing Lake
filled with the powers of the Medicinal Angels
Under each Willow Tree was a comforting shade, where
souls weary from life’s journey could lie down and find rest.

Now, these Special Willows were gifted with the ability to comfort
lost and broken souls. These Willows allowed souls to unburden every
darkness known to mankind. Then the souls would cleanse themselves
in the Healing Lake and then rest and rejuvenate to start living again.

As the world grew more and more violent and dark, more and more souls came to the Willow Realm to unburden and heal. But, one day, the Willow Trees became out numbered and overwhelmed by all the souls lost in so much darkness that they could no longer bear the weight of the confessions. Suddenly, the Willow Trees shrieked with such a deafening sound that it shook the entire earth! It caused the hearing to no longer hear and the speaking to mute. The quake of the earth caused the bottom of the Healing Lake to open and swallow the medicinal waters. The magical mist of the Sun’s light turned to ashes of ebony night. The Willow Trees once so fierce and strong, wept the silence of death, so the legend tells.

The Great Mist’s By And By

The Great Mist's By And By

This land where I walk
is filled with a Great Mist
so much so that I can not see
where my next step will take me

I’ve been lost in this place
for a very long time
trying to find my way back
to the season of the Sun’s rising

I have been wandering for so long
that my heart no longer has a song
and my joy is now only sorrow
weeping for it to end in each new morrow

But with each new day my soul
continues to pour forth its rain
with a torment of unending pain
drowning in a flood of no reprieve

There are moments where it seems
that this Great Mist will begin to lift
so I take my next blind step
and again I begin to drift

Oh, my weary soul just wants to lay down and sleep
and never again know this seemingly unending weep
while waiting for Love to hear my piercing cry
in this land of The Great Mist’s by and by.

Photo Credit: weheartit.com