dead blooms fall
fantasies for the future
shatter soft on stone
I wrote this last year for a #fieryverse prompt on Twitter. I would encourage you to get on Twitter today, as it is #NationalHaikuPoetryDay and #NationalPoetryMonth. There will be a lot of haiku to enjoy if you look at those hashtags. Please leave some love for poets by retweeting their work or at least giving them a like today.
old hopes and dreams
erasing pins and deleting links
flowers that didn’t bloom
Some dreams just don’t work out. Some flowers just don’t come to fruition. So we erase and start over. I hope this next year is a good one for us all.
Friday Fictioneers is a group of bloggers that 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 a comment on any of my posts. I write my story before I read any of the other writer’s creations.
Even if short story isn’t your favorite type of story, please consider sharing some writers’ and bloggers’ work today. It is getting harder and harder to share on social media as all of the sites like Facebook now hide your posts (in hopes that we will pay to make them appear). So please subscribe to and follow any other bloggers that you like.
If you are unsure of the rules/form of Friday Fictioneers then please go to Rochelle’s blog by clicking on her name above.
PHOTO PROMPT © Amy Reese
The Last Set of Stairs
He said her dreams lay at the top.
She wrinkled her nose at the dirty steps. It was obvious that no caretaker had been here. How could he be rich and have servants if the steps leading up to his home were this dirty?
Jolene let his hand drop from hers and backed away. The pain in his face became too much to bear, so she turned around. She walked quietly back to her car.
John walked up the servant’s entrance to his family’s 150 year old mansion. The diamond ring in his pocket poking him with every step.
crick in my neck
from trying to find
solace in my pillow
uneasy dreams made
me toss and turn
the burn in my neck
throughout the day
brings them back to me
when they should be vapor
This poem was inspired by a bad mattress and the micropoetry prompt #fieryverse.
I hope you are full of turkey and sleep well tonight! Happy Thanksgiving everyone!!
In the Rocking Chair
Sleep: he is heavy in my hands
Secure: he is relaxed against my chest
Comfort: his breath is warm on my neck
Dreams: he twitches under my chin
Love: his warmth against me
I loved and hated those days all at the same time. I hated being stuck in a chair, I hated having to be so quiet, but I loved the feel of my little one in my arms. Do you remember those days? Are you in those days now?
Day 18- Plans/dreams/goals you have
Personal dreams: I have several, but the only one I am seriously pursuing at this point is to publish a book of poetry through a publishing house. I would like to travel to Europe or the Caribbean at some point in the future. I would like to vacation in Washington D.C.
Dreams for my son: That he feels confidant enough to pursue his dreams, that he has the means to pursue his dreams, and that those dreams involve God.
Dreams for my country: For us to finally, and REALLY, come out of this recession, that has felt more like a depression. For Congress to stand together as brothers rather than hate each other like enemies.
What are your dreams for yourself? For your country?
Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.
Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.
This poem has been an inspiration for me since I was in Junior High. It used to hang on my bedroom wall. It reminds to me to keep on. To follow my heart and my dreams even when it seems like I’ll never make it.
I recently checked out a Shel Silverstein book for my son at the library. I had forgotten how much I liked his poetry. Here is the poem that has been keeping me inspired and upbeat this last week:
Put Something In
Draw a crazy picture,
Write a nutty poem,
Sing a mumble-grumble song,
Whistle through your comb.
Do a loony-goony dance
‘Cross the kitchen floor,
put something silly in the world
That ain’t been there before.
Do you have dreams that you’ve held onto? What are your dreams?
Write me in the comment section.