Black lace and shadows Stain glass wings, emerald jewels Onyx eyes piercing Floating on the breeze Silhouettes rice paper thin A song without words Music barely heard Whirlpools in the wind, fairies Make a wish, believe * Submitted for Amy's 'Five-Minute Breakfast Poems.' * Haiku Friday is hosted by Lou at LouCeeL.
Tag: writing prompt
At the top of the stairs
The house, settling like an aging dowager, arthritic and frail, creaks and trembles. Cold spots materialize in odd corners as air cascades over transoms. Doors shut unbidden behind footfalls echoing down the halls. A staircase leads upward to closed off rooms abandoned to the darkness. Treads groan with each step, slick from generations of use. A … Continue reading At the top of the stairs
Split pea soup
Thick as thieves and split pea soup Quite a pair we two Morning light and off we go On tiptoe quiet Alone in thought A song or three In harmony Dancing all alone Fingers tapping, arms raised high Peek to see who’s watching A smile, and laugh Sweet memories reborn Not mom, nor wife But … Continue reading Split pea soup
Storm’s ‘a comin’
Shrill warning alarms blasted from the TV as dire predictions of the storm’s path and strength scrolled across the screen. Panic was taking hold. Running from room to room, snatching photos off walls, grabbing precious toys from beds, she frantically tried to decide what would be left behind. Water filled the bathtub as the oldest … Continue reading Storm’s ‘a comin’
Muses: fear and hope
Fear, hope, twin sisters Muses, their sultry voices Not so contrary Whispered cruel asides Murmured secrets, tales and lies Of what fate withholds Anticipation Of the may-bes, of could-bes Possibilities A dance, eternal Turning, spinning off balance The band relentless Hope, fear, twin sisters Sing duets in harmony Hymns and dirges, discordant Sudden catch of … Continue reading Muses: fear and hope
Daddy’s little girl
This all sounds petty I know, but understand, it was constant. The name calling, the endless barrage of insults. Finding fault in everything I did. I have a permanent flat spot from all the cuffs to the back of my head. From the outside, it looked like he was playing around. That I was being … Continue reading Daddy’s little girl
Thin spiral notebook 