Sunlight bathed the fields through which they moved when he stopped and gestured whispering only one word: “Deer”.
She paused and smiled, wishing that she could get to her camera in time, but instead she just watched. They stood soundless, clasping hands as they watched a family of deer turning to watch them back.
Alarmed by their presence, the deer began to bound towards the woods, the noise of their movement breaking the morning’s stillness. She laughed and turned to him, her eyes bright with joy. His gaze reflected her mirth a moment, then he turned to lead her away.
Another small snippet, this time written for Velvet Verbosity’s 100-word challenge, which this week gave us the word “soundless”.
Geese @ the Riverwalk in Rock Hill. Image is my own.
the woods, most would say,
but I know different
for I have heard the song of the forest
in stillness I sit
perched on the edge of a steaming river
the soft words of geese reach my ears
over the slow, constant babble
of the water’s passage
dew collects on fading leaves
drops into the brush below
joining with the sounds of birds and squirrels
searching the forest floor
for nuts and berries to stock their winter stores
stirs wildlife to sing and call
their voices creating
a breathtaking cacophony
the music of Nature given life
Written in response to this week’s challenge at Velvet Verbosity, which gives us ‘listening’ as our prompt for the week. I found that this poem also easily fit New World Creative Union’s Wednesday Wakeup Call.
There is a moment that comes, as I pass through the threshold and shed the trappings of the outside world. A moment in which I am able to release mundane thoughts and more fully envelop the core of my being.
In that moment I fully appreciate my presence in the world, my place in it. I absolve myself of the worries and trials of the day, and allow myself to settle into a more natural existence.
Once I let fall those portions of life which are immaterial to who I am, what remains of the day informs me of myself.
Velvet Verbosity this week has asked us to write about what remains of the day. This is my effort to that end. It’s less poetic and more prose, I know, but a poem didn’t come to me this time.
my fingers reach, arched and delicate
poised for a single stroke
or many perhaps, depending on the mood
they tremble, eager to release
to relieve the pressure of holding back
my lip caught between my teeth
eyes close a moment
then a breath escapes me and I sigh
finally I move
eager to release the words pent up
within my soul
fingers delicate across the keys
spilling words upon a screen
eliciting smiles and murmurs of delight
my verse revealed
stares back at me
the exhibitionist in me baring her soul
the briefest glimpse of my anima
Velvet Verbosity asked us to explore the ways in which writing makes us tremble this week, and this is my approach to that. Enjoy!
Image is my own photo, taken during a road trip to Max Patch Bald.
I sit curled in the back seat of our already worn-out car,
praying that the plane I see
coming in for a landing isn’t landing on the highway.
My eyes slip closed again as I murmur quiet pleas
to whatever gods or saints
protect weary travelers
My hands tremble as I lift them,
pluck a single cigarette from the pack
hold it between my lips as the lighter flame flickers.
“It is by will alone I smoke this cigarette.”
I recite, recalling dialogue
from an oft-viewed film
I’m not traveling this way again
not if I have my way.
Velvet Verbosity’s 100 Word Challenge this week gives us the theme ‘road trip’. This piece is inspired by one particular road trip I went on; in particular, a now famous (among my friends) utterance of mine.
Also linked up at d’Verse’s Open Link Night.
a soft, gentle sound
a swelling of
louder and louder
more join those, making
all becomes just noise
the gentle sounds
once more building
the next until the noise
begins as the softest
off in the distance
across land and sky
the flash and flicker
brightens the sky to
out the quiet until
and finally the storm
Quite an apropos poem, considering all the storms that have rolled on through this area recently. We had some nice ones lastnight, and the earth feels reborn. Velvet Verbosity gave us the word “murmur” this week, and this poem, which started off as being about people, wanted to instead be about the storm.
bring on the men
where bare chests and tender souls blend
wearing little more than string to tempt the imagination
hunks leave my head in a fog
I struggle to strike up conversation
while my wanton eyes trace where my fingers refrain
latch on to chiseled forms
invigorating to at least some of my senses
temptation creates a current
straight to my core and spares nothing
leaving me breathless
wishing that just one will be lenient to my longings
will crack a smile that pierces the racket
of raucous women
just one is all it takes to whet my
The rain whispers sweet nothings above my head
daring me to linger here cocooned within the sheets.
Strange dreams beckon with wispy moments,
half remembered visions
of soaring dragons, fearsome monsters
and delicate maidens who don’t need anyone’s protection
refusing to release me from slumber’s sweet embrace.
With my eyes still closed I smile
listening to that ceaseless patter of drops on the window,
remembering sights and sounds too amazing to be real.
The rain whispers good morning and I open my eyes
on a world where there are still fearsome monsters, still dragons
still maidens who don’t need rescue.
Written, not long after awakening, as a response to Velvet Verbosity‘s prompt this week, which was “slumber”.