Art is a lie that makes us realize truth.
We all know that Art is not truth. Art is a lie that makes us realize the truth, at least the truth that is given to us to understand. -Pablo Picasso (Spanish Artist and Painter. 1881-1973)
Art is complicated, and wonderful, and confusing, and necessary!
Friday Fictioneers is a group of bloggers who write 100-word stories after being inspired by a photo posted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. We are allowed to use the photo in our post and encouraged to leave each other comments. I always appreciate anyone who takes the time to leave me a comment. I write my story before I read any of the other writers’ creations. I know that I haven’t posted much this week. I probably won’t post much this month, I have a lot going on. I will make sure to post a new haiku every Monday though.
PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot
The birds gathered to watch. They were our only support and they were as quiet as the vases of flowers that lined the window sill. I should have felt thankful for the flowers. They made Momma happy in her last month of life.
Momma told me over and over that sitting amongst flowers was a preview of heaven. “Why would God create so many plants for earth and have none in heaven?” she would often argue.
As I carried the last box of her belongings to the car, I looked skyward and whispered, “Pick a bouquet for me, Momma.”
mist softens the earth
the earth lets grass spring up
recognizing the season
Recognize the season that you’re in, then embrace it.
People of accomplishment rarely sat back and let things happen to them. They went out and happened to things. -Leonardo Da Vinci
I really like this quote. I hope it inspires you to do something with your weekend.
Friday Fictioneers is a group of bloggers who write 100-word stories after being inspired by a photo posted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. We are allowed to use the photo in our post and encouraged to leave each other comments. I always appreciate anyone who leaves me a comment, but I am not doing Concrit at this time. I always read at least 5 other Friday Fictioneer stories, but I don’t have time to read everyone’s. Sorry if I missed yours! I will try to read the stories for the last 2 weeks that I have missed as well. I write my story before I read any of the other writers’ creations. This week’s story started at 140 words and I cut it down to 100. I just write until I feel I have a complete story, then I tighten it. Then I check it again, and have to chop out more words because I am detail-oriented!
Photo Credit: Mary Shipman
The Gypsy Life
Sierra stood in the cool shop waiting for the clothes to dry. She had found a rare moment of silence to think. The people she called family loved life on the road. Every day brought new puzzles like where would they take a bath? They learned to sleep in the back of the trucks. They learned to charm the authorities. But they hadn’t learned to love.
Owen still wouldn’t say the words. He said he loved the gypsy life too much to be claimed by one woman. Sierra decided she was tired of the gypsy life, and tired of Owen.
been a century of building
wars and rebuilding and
waiting for peace,
Somehow I wrote this and forgot to share it. I wish I had shared it in October of last year when I wrote it. It was the 100th anniversary of something. I think I saw this prompt on Twitter right next to a tweet about the 100th year anniversary of WWI.
sturdy stalk of the
hollyhock holds red blossoms
I straighten my spine
It’s going to be a long week. But I will get through it. Just like I have gotten through other hard weeks.
while we listen,
but she isn’t saying
what is really bothering her
I am pretty sure I wrote this for a prompt. I know I wrote it on a Thursday after I had gone to a Woman’s Bible Study on a Wednesday night. It’s been a while since I wrote it so I can’t remember all of the details. I am thinking about sharing my cinquain with you on Wednesdays. Hit “Like” below if you want to see cinquains. Go to the “Poetry Definitions” Page at the top if you don’t know what a cinquain is.
A Moment Away
Rewarding us in secret, our Father gives us back,
what the enemy took through attack.
The heat and rain took it away.
Weight of oppression made our backs sway.
Pests ate away what didn’t rot.
Relief we vainly sought.
But suffering is sometimes a disguise,
for we will be eternally in paradise.
No rain will be there, or wind or snow,
but perfectly the fruit will grow.
So there is no need to sorrow over today,
for eternity is but a moment away.
Inspired by 2 Corinthians 4:17 For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, is working for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory,
in the small bed
the flowers grow together
without cutting each other
I hope you have a good week! Try not to do damage to anyone.
Blessed to us is the night, for it reveals the stars. -Anonymous
Yeah, the picture is blurry, but it’s the only one I have of a star.
The Glow of Tomorrow
I see it over the top of the hill
The glowing orb of promise
Trying desperately to get to it
I’ve slipped and fallen
The urgency of getting away from today
Snaps at me like a bullwhip
So I dig my fingers into the flesh of the earth
Ripping up grass in my hurry
To catch the glow that promises
A fresh start, a new day
The depressing rain has softened the earth
Making my path muddy and slippery
Standing in what remains of this day
Cannot be done, my legs are too weak
So I crawl, pulling myself through the mud
I have to move, leave this place
Catching up with the sun
and the strength it holds
Is my only hope
If I dwell on the shadows of today
I’ll never rise again
I am so thankful for every new day that I am given. I try very hard to be thankful for what I have in the moment and not dwell on what went wrong yesterday.