Writer. Feminist. Historian. Person.
I originally wrote this way back in June of 2018 but it still (sadly) fits my mood AND although it may be bending the rules a bit to use an old piece, it (more happily) perfectly fits Linda's final JusJoJan prompt "chaos". Thanks Linda. Sorry I wasn't more present in January but ... well you… Continue reading Then Chaos
Birth and death unite A solitary cocoon Ashes to ashes Thanks to Ronovan Writes for a great challenge that made me think AND reminded me of one of my fave songs. Oh David Bowie, how I love you!! Ashes to Ashes
the whole of knowledge cannot fill the empty void if empathy dies Thanks for the double inspiration to Ronovan Writes and WOTD.
Wow. The line is out the door. I guess dying young will do that. Everyone you know is still alive. At least it’s not raining. Finally. Through the door! Damn. It’s like the line for Space Mountain. At least there’s music. Hmmm? What’s that song? What a Wonderful Life. That’s perfect.… Continue reading The Ear Worm
moments of silence commemorating the dead kneeling silently to send our thoughts and prayers silent bows of surrender Once again ... twelve more murders to add to our list of shame. Twelve more people gone because our so-called leaders refuse to stand up to the NRA. Twelve more deaths that will be met with the… Continue reading once again …
I’m not sure when I drifted off or what woke me. The birds? Or maybe the chill in the air? Whatever it was, it interrupted a great dream. We were dancing. Just like we did the night we met. I could still hear the fading beats of Crazy in Love in my mind and I… Continue reading Destiny
May 30, 1893 Dearest John. It finally arrived. I was scared that it wouldn’t get here in time for your birthday but it came on the train yesterday. Daddy will be angry but there’s nothing he can do about it now. When I saw our names together I fell to my knees. I love you… Continue reading Dearest John
She sat on the breakwater and hoped the sound of the waves would soothe her. His words hadn’t. “In between the clover and the dampened earth.” That’s how the minister described it. Sounded poetic. Nicer than “here’s where we buried her body.” But that was reality. Ma was dead. And no pretty words were going… Continue reading The Breakwater
She sat at the edge of the stream and stared at the house. Their home. The tumbling water reminded her of a song. She could hear the melody in her head. But the words just wouldn’t come. It’s not fair. Songs are not her department. TV shows and historical facts. But not songs. That’s his… Continue reading Their Home
mysterious mounds ~ ancient memories entombed ~ their sorrow remains ~ \ Writing Prompt thanks to Putting My Feet in the Dirt
