Tag Archives: writer

Continent of Mud: Photo Poem 37

Posted on by Standard 12
The story of mud: Photo by Noelle

A story in mud: Photo by Noelle

When I was young everything had to have order. I liked symmetry and balance. If there was a block of blue on the left, than there must be a block of blue on the right. A proper picture of my family home had a sun and green grass. Beauty was related to this curious and predictable pattern of things. I have left that land and wandered into a story of randomness and chaos. What completely lacks symmetry and order possesses the most exquisite beauty to me. A sense of inner balance discovered that clearly was lacking when my outer world was perfectly planned.

Mud over flowers. I am deeply happy here.

Jockeys: Flash Non-Fiction

Posted on by Standard 3
Image pulled from The Mind Unleashed Facebook page

Image pulled from The Mind Unleashed Facebook page

The deep secret of the divorce. I stole a pair of my exes jockey shorts. The ones that are actually like shorts. Gray cotton soft, gentle waist band and my ass looks great in them. Even the flap in the front seems to flatten my belly. I love that flap. Like the secret door to a magical mystery tour. I wear them to bed or dance Zumba topless around the house. The naughtiness is in the theft and that they’re the wrong sex for my wide hip need. My friend thinks it’s odd, but I challenge she simply lacks the courage to step out of the feminine box. We tell men to find some estrogen, well I dig the testosterone rush when I slide them on. Sexy and charged is what they give my lazy Sunday’s reading the paper.

They remind me of him, in the way he liked my style. My need to be only me. For many reasons, I needed to let him go, but his jockeys still belong to me. It’s the part of the story of us that still lives in my jeans.

(Work in progress from The Writer’s Church in Boulder. Hosted by Marj Hahne and inspired by “Pink Pantsuit” by Nancy Simpson)

Egg Shells

Posted on by Standard 3
Free Bing Photos

Free Bing Photos

Emptied egg shell
Pock-marked, hard exterior
Now cracked
Potency gone
Creepy membranes of
An old self
Cling

Crushed into earth
Proteins
Seep deep
Enlivening
Another seed
Waiting
And hungry
For energy

Transfer of life
One to another
Each new
Unique
But
Connected
In wholeness
And
Brokenness

Such is life
Such is death

Little Gem

Posted on by Standard 4
Free Bing Photo

Free Bing Photo

“You exist in time, but you belong to eternity. You are a penetration of eternity into the world of time. You are deathless, living in a body of death. Your consciousness knows no death, no birth. It is only your body that is born and dies. But you are not aware of your consciousness. You are not conscious of your consciousness. And that is the whole art of meditation; Becoming conscious of consciousness itself.”

~ Osho

Last Words

Posted on by Standard Reply
Re-posted from Dreamcatcher's Facebook page

Re-posted from The Mind Unleashed Facebook page

IF I HAD MY LIFE TO LIVE OVER
By: Erma Bombeck
I would have talked less and listened more.
I would have invited friends over to dinner even if the carpet was stained and the sofa faded.
I would have eaten the popcorn in the “good” living room and worried much less about the dirt when someone wanted to light a fire in the fireplace.
I would have taken the time to listen to my grandfather ramble about his youth.
I would never have insisted the car windows be rolled up on a summer day because my hair had just been teased and sprayed. I would have burned the pink candle sculpted like a rose before it melted in storage.
I would have sat on the lawn with my children and not worried about grass stains.
I would have cried and laughed less while watching TV – and more while watching life.
I would have shared more of the responsibility carried by my husband.
I would have gone to bed when I was sick instead of pretending the earth would go into a holding pattern if I weren’t there for the day.
I would never have bought anything just because it was practical, wouldn’t show soil or was guaranteed to last a lifetime.
Instead of wishing away nine months of pregnancy, I’d have cherished every moment and realized that the wonderment growing inside me was the only chance in life to assist God in a miracle.
When my kids kissed me impetuously, I would never have said, “Later. Now go get washed up for dinner.”
There would have been more “I love yous”…more “I’m sorrys”…
But mostly, given another shot at life, I would seize every minute…look at it and really see it…live it…and never give it back.