Because it Needed to Soar

When I untied my heartstrings,
Better Judgement snarled. “Why?”
I answered: “Because it needed to soar.”

Photo by Erik Witsoe via Unsplash
Written for Sonya’s Three Line Tales, Week 125, Only 100 Words

The Great Struggle

Ideas are like the wind
Brushing our arms,
But hiding from sight

Pounding on frosted glass,
Demanding to be noticed,
Though their forms are blurred

Screaming until their voices
Feel like gravel in their throats,
But having no sound at all

Yet, this is the writer’s great struggle:
To bring to life what isn’t clear

Photo: Woman behind frosted glass by Joe deSousa
Written for: Patrick Jennings’ Focus – Pic and a Word Challenge #144Pix to Words 


Your words are
More valuable to me
Than precious gems
Than life-giving air
Imagine, if you will,
What would happen
If you used them
To destroy me

Amongst the Stars Above

To think we’re only specks
To the stars above that glisten
Like flakes of glass in light

Written for Patrick Jennings’ Big – Pic and a Word Challenge #143, Pix to Words

If We Could, Would We

If we could
Go on autopilot,
Or sleep walk,
Or fast forward
Life’s unpleasantries,
Would we ever live?

Photo by Matthew Brodeur
Written for Patrick Jennings’ Speed ~ Pic and Word Challenge #138, Pix to Words

The Cards We’re Dealt

A Lost Soul, darkened by troubles,
Handed an Angel a set of worn cards
With ragged, trembling hands.

The Lost Soul tried to speak
But years of torment–
No doubt by the cards–
Made speech difficult.

Filled with pity, the Angel
Leaned down and said:
“Speak. I will listen.”

“Gracious One,” the Soul whispered.
“If it’s not too much trouble,
Can you put these back
And deal me new ones?”

Photo by Amisha Nakhwa


Deafening white noise
Away from society,
Wash my thoughts away.

Photo by Ravi Pinisetti

Morning in the Fields

Rolling hills nestled
Under a verdant blanket
Speckled with fresh dew,
Shimmering in Heaven’s Light
Just breaching the horizon.
Continue reading “Morning in the Fields”

Shadows In the City of Light

In the City of Light, there was one
Whose warm, gentle luminance made her
The epitome of all that was good.

But then her admirers noticed she possessed
Something that no one in the City of Light
Should have: a shadow. A flaw.

No longer was she a symbol of purity,
But an object of disgust. So, her beloved
Admirers turned their backs on her.

As they walked away, she noticed dark voids
Trailing behind each of them that her light–
Now an object of disgust–couldn’t illuminate.

“Shadows,” she realized with some disbelief.
“Shadows as dark as mine.”

Written for: Patrick Jennings’ Shadow ~ Pic and a Word Challenge #125, Pix to Words