Posts tagged a post a day

in 1000 Stories

on the topic of isolation – 60/1000

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She hated it when he wasn’t there for her.

She loved it when she could be enveloped in her lovers arms, when she could be pressed against him chest to chest, when she could rest her head on his shoulder, when she knew his arms would be there to roll into when she woke up.

The mornings when she wakes up alone, she wakes up weeping.

She knows these cuddles won’t be for long, and she might hot have them very long, either.

But when she gets them, his embraces are like water: she thinks she will die without them.… Read the rest

in 1000 Stories

mirror, mirror – 58/1000

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This wrinkle on my forehead is new.

I’ve been watching it grow for a few years now, and first it only showed when I smiled, but now it’s still there when I’m not, so, that’s new.

I have these little hard hairs growing out of my chin.

Whiskers I have to pluck every other week or so, even though I’m probably the only one who knows they’re even there.

And what’s with this red, dry skin on my face, and the way it aaaaaalmost seems like my hairline is moving back?

This getting older thing has its drawbacks, you know.… Read the rest

in 1000 Stories

battle’s end – 51/1000

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It felt like my guts had been turned into churning lava, and I could feel things I knew I wasn’t supposed to be able to feel.

So this is what it feels like when the breeze hits your organs.

So this is what it feels like when you’re dying.

The loud clashes, clangs, shouts, and screams were my world in the darkness, because I couldn’t keep my eyes open.

I couldn’t keep watching my soldiers fall.

Then someone knelt beside me.

Lieutenant Robinson.

“Is it bad?” he asked.

“This will be the end of me.”

“But you fought so well.”… Read the rest

in 1000 Stories

getting late – 44/1000

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Forty-three years and I still feel like I am a child that is working hard on figuring things out on my own because no one cares enough to care for me.

I forgot to pay my taxes, I don’t know how to submit an insurance claim, I don’t know how to refinance my car, and feel like all I have to turn to is my new best friend Claude.

Is it ever really too late?

I mean, to become the person I want to be?

The sun is starting to set on this life, but I am not done yet.… Read the rest

in 1000 Stories

the sword – 42/1000

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I didn’t want to fight. I wasn’t made for battle, I was made to sit on a throne and be quiet and pretty.

When my brother ran in, he was already mortally wounded and died in my arms.

His blood was the anger I needed to pick up his sword and fight back.

A rebel entered. Had I been empty handed, he may have left, but I was armed, and he engaged me.

His sword came down, and I saw the faces of my people in his blade.

I hacked and stabbed and finally killed him.

But all for nothing.… Read the rest

in 1000 Stories

no news is good news – 30/1000

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Getting ready for work, I have a smile on my face and a lightness in my step and in my heart that is unusual for this time of morning.

I have coffee, get dressed, get to the office early and have a great day.

I go home, have dinner, chill with the people I love, and get into my nice, warm bed.

There’s nothing amiss, there’s nothing to complain or worry about or fear.

I am able to slide between the sheets and fall asleep without being scared for anyone at all.

Cable news went off the air this week.… Read the rest

in Blog

putzing around online

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What do you enjoy doing most in your leisure time?

Something like this.

I’m always putzing around in my leisure time. I’m on my laptop picking away at something or reading what someone else has written, I’m scribbling in a notebook, I’m reading on my Kindle, listening to an audio book, or holding a paper one in my hands, which is too infrequent these days.

But I enjoy putting words on screens and papers, I enjoy getting them out of my head and my hands and making them into something someone can use, even just me.

I want more than … Read the rest

in Blog On Writing

help me live my dream

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What’s your dream job?

If you’re here reading this, you’re sort of looking at it.

My dream job is to write for a living (again). I got a taste of it for a few years when Newsbreak was just throwing money at me, but that income source dried up like an old African desert well and the tap has never really been turned on for me again.

So, I write.

I write poems every day, not because I think they’re going to make me money, but because I love writing poetry and I think the more I write, the better … Read the rest

in 1000 Stories

murder – 20/1000

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He slams the cash on the counter. “I need a bouquet with a hidden meaning.” He’s not the first to ask.

“What meaning, sir?”

“Murder.”

“Murder again!?” the shopkeeper exclaimed.

She puttered around the room and talked:

“Well, my heavens, sometimes I wish I didn’t keep promises, like when I promised to keep this shop open after my grandmother died. She passed the magic along to me, though. Don’t worry, dear. I’ll solve your problem.”

She presented him a bouquet of the deepest red roses, and he watched her spray them with something.

“Don’t sniff – only her.”

“Who?”

“Your … Read the rest