the valley of the dead
on the corner of Fig and Expo
the dogs of relic wait
north bound Honda “fights the power”
east bound Bronco just another “renegade of funk”
in silent slumber
sandy bandages, myrrh and cinnamon
to mark their trails
headed to Jamba Juice, Starbucks and Nico’s
what will it be today Raiders or Dodgers
there to greet the substance
in the cloth with the threads
of desperation in costume of the
royal river where you were once
given away
i am tired.
the gray in the lining
of my soul is see-through.
my love is withered and
unresponsive.
no petals in my chamber
for my chamber is a street.
i am hungry and cold.
the fire in my spirit has
smothered its last spark.
the matches of life have
been stolen by proposals
regulations and copper pipes.
my feet no longer carry
dignity and strength.
my arms no longer capture
me at my disgrace.
i am numberless in the
bar code of the beast.
In honor of Sexual Abuse Awareness and Prevention Month, Blood Into Ink and We Will Not Be Silenced are putting out a call for submissions for your lived experience of sexual harassment and assault. We believe that there is strength in our collective voices. We believe our work is not done. Writing and art accepted for There Is Strength In Our Stories will be published on Blood Into Ink’s website and through the BII social media accounts, as well as on the We Will Not Be Silenced Facebook page during the month of April 2019.
Writers and artists can submit up to three pieces of creative work (poetry, prose, essay, and/or original artwork.) Pieces of writing should be limited in length (under 1,500 words.) Using a pen name or publishing anonymously is acceptable. You will be asked to provide a brief biography (75 words or less.)
Please do not consider…
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the curtain flaps in the clumsy breeze
my heart beats down
the coolness of the aging day
appears to release the hope evading me
it is alright now
i accept what came and went
in the treks of time today
my face has become stronger
the longing has receded like the curtain
in that room where history is made
and played out in my head
one tear at the time
the nature is at work today toiling in her green gown purple tip toe slippers amongst the mighty pillars made of timber underneath the carpet of it all with the millipedes and bumblebees across the shadows are the rays of light igniting warmth coming from the heavens as mother floats upon the ferns who reach up asking for a kiss of dew awaiting for her nurture
Use the image below as inspiration to create a post on your own blog… poetry, prose, humour… light or dark, whatever you choose, by noon (GMT) Wednesday 3rd April and link back to this post with a pingback to be included in the round-up. There is no word limit and no style requirements, except to keep it fairly family friendly.
For visually challenged writers, the image shows a shadowy bluebell wood, where a shaft of brilliant light has erased all colour and form.
All posts will be featured in the round-up on Thursday March 4th at 10am GMT, linking back to the original posts of contributors. Throughout the week I will feature as many of the responses here on the Daily Echo as space allows and (more or less) in the order in which they come in.
You can find all last week’s entries in the weekly round-up. Please visit…
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The baristas at Go Dog Go Cafe are big fans of Pay It Forward Thursdays. We think it is a great opportunity to give a shout-out to another writer who has wowed us or creatively inspired us. It a great way to share the love and pass it on to the readers. It also becomes a great pool for excellent reading stuff by your fellow readers of the WordPress community.
You are invited to post one link to one specific post of poetry, short story, or flash fiction, 300 words or less please, from someone else’s blog in the comments below.
Happy reading!
in a mad house i shoo my heart away
i don’t know why i stay
in the hope that you will feel
or think in your head to
need me
the yellow of the walls
suffocates me; I get held
down against my will
but it is not yellow
it is dimness and fear
i see a tender brook out
of my third eye window
and the idea that i could
be free is unsettling
for letting you go
means being without
in my head i look into
my eyes and i see empty
inky dread such a quick sand terror
in the night where did you go
from me
madness at all hours
stuns me; soothes me; makes me weep
cruelty beyond all naturalness
of human spirit
the cell is silent
the day is come
the brook is muddy
llego
el
tiempo de
verme como soy
un humano de hueso estelar
caminando por los caminos indebidos con pasos tímidos
hasta el templo de la antigüedad donde todos los secretos mueren en silencio
y en la lucha yo contra yo no entiendo mi naturaleza deseo volar con halas de ángel pero solo soy hombre
y en la decisión de amar o odiar me tropiezo y con furia levanto mis manos para el rostro de la santidad golpear con puños destructivos que no me llevan al cielo más alto
no me sirven los pies para llegar al lugar bendito y mis pensamientos navego a lugares fríos donde no hay luz
este día suplico tener permiso de entrar a la casa de mis madres
y que mi espíritu sea nutrido por sus
consejos medicinales donde ya no
sufra mi alma
y descanse
en
paz
chego
o
tempo de
veja-me como eu sou
um humano de osso estelar
andando nas estradas erradas com passos tímidos
para o templo da antiguidade, onde todos os segredos morrem em silêncio
e na luta eu contra mim mesmo eu não entendo minha natureza Eu quero voar com halos de anjo mas eu sou apenas um homem
e na decisão de amar ou odiar Eu tropeço e com fúria eu levanto minhas mãos para a face da santidade atingida por punhos destrutivos que não me levam ao mais alto céu
meus pés não me servem para alcançar o lugar abençoado e meus pensamentos eu navego para lugares frios onde não há luz
hoje peço permissão para entrar na casa da minha mãe
e que meu espírito seja nutrido por sua
conselhos medicinais onde você não está mais
sofre minha alma
e descanse
em
paz
the
time
of seeing
me as i am
a human of stellar bone
walking on the wrong paths with timid steps
to the temple of antiquity where all secrets die in perfectly still silence
in the fight i against myself i do not understand my nature wanting to fly with angel wings i’m just man
and in the decision to love or hate i stumble and with fury raise my hands to the face of sanctity hitting with destructive fists that do not take me to the highest heaven
feet don’t serve me to reach the blessed place my thoughts I navigate to cold places where there is no light
this day begging to have permission to enter my mothers’ house
and may my spirit be nourished by their
medicinal advice where my soul
will not suffer
and rest
in
peace
words less spoken 