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.”
If God hath made this world so fair
Where sin and death abound,
How beautiful beyond compare
Will paradise be found.
As Fall colors surround you, take a moment to think on this quote.
Shall I doubt my Father’s mercy?
Shall I think of death as doom,
Or the stepping o’er the threshold
To a bigger, brighter room?
Today’s quote is from a poet. Click here to read the full poem.
Close up of Thomas Hart Benton painting.
People often surmise
there will be no work
I think they’re in
for a surprise
is strength training
I wrote this for an #ntitle prompt on Twitter. I believe the prompt was earthwork and this is where I went with it.
In the world to come, I shall not be asked, “Why were you not Moses?” I shall be asked, “Why were you not Zusya?” -Rabbi Zusya
Be the best you that you can be. That is all anyone should ask of you.
In thy long Paradise of Light
No moment will there be
When I shall long for Earthly Play
And mortal Company –
Sometimes I just can’t wait to get to heaven, because I know it will be so great.
If we are to be treated, in the world to come, the way we’ve treated people here – what kind of reception will you receive?
These Strangers, in a foreign World,
Protection asked of me –
Befriend them, lest Yourself in Heaven
Be found a Refugee –
Emily Dickinson wondered about things in her poetry, but there were a few things she was certain of. What are you certain of?
I never saw a Moor –
I never saw the Sea –
Yet I know how the Heather looks
And what a Billow be.
I never spoke with God
Nor visited in Heaven –
Yet certain am I of the spot
As if the Checks were given –
This week’s poem from Emily Dickinson is another short one. Remember I am posting my favorites and not her complete collection. See this post for why.
Far from Love the Heavenly Father
Leads the Chosen Child,
Oftener through Realm of Briar
Than the Meadow mild.
Oftener by the Claw of Dragon
Than the Hand of Friend
Guides the Little One predestined
To the Native Land.
Emily writes about talking with Jesus in today’s poem.
‘Unto Me?” I do not know you –
Where may be your House?
“I am Jesus – Late of Judea –
Now – of Paradise” –
Wagons – have you – to convey me?
This is far from Thence –
“Arms of Mine – sufficient Phaeton –
Trust Omnipotence” –
I am spotted – “I am Pardon” –
I am small – “The Least
Is esteemed in Heaven the Chiefest –
Occupy my House” –
A poem in which Emily explores death. She wrote several poems like this. Her thoughts on death are very interesting and beautiful.
Under the Light, yet under,
Under the Grass and the Dirt
Under the Beetle’s Cellar
Under the Clover’s Root,
Further than Arm could stretch
Were it Giant long,
Further than Sunshine could
Were the Day Year long,
Over the Light, yet over,
Over the Arc of the Bird –
Over the Comet’s Chimney –
Over the Cubit’s Head,
Further than Guess can gallop
Further than Riddle ride –
Oh for a Disc to the Distance
Between Ourselves and the Dead!