Sensuous Sundays - Brewing nostalgia

Brewing nostalgia - tanka

the pot on the stove

bubbles up aromas from

childhood. Warm, soothing

comforting, like Mother’s touch

like a loyal puppy lick

~~~

Awe

"The next time you are awed by something, let the feeling flow freely through you and do not try to 'understand' it You will find that you do understand, but in a way that you will not be able to put into words. You are perceiving intuitively through your right hemisphere. It has not atrophied from lack of use, but our skill in listening to it has been dulled by three centuries of neglect."

From the book "The Dancing Wu Li Masters.

Sensuous Sundays - Eddies of memories

Eddies of memories - tanka

fleeting sandal scent

like a rogue wind whirlpools leaves

stirs up memories

chasing the light on your skin

all the way into shadows

~~~

It rains inside me

(100 word flash fiction)

It had been raining that day when you ran from my arms and down the driveway to the waiting school bus. So eager you had been to show off your new raincoat, you had not even turned back to wave goodbye.

Every year, I bought new clothes for you just a little bit bigger. Added one more candle to your birthday cake. Redecorated your room, changed the posters. I hope you like Jennifer Lawrence.

They said you’re dead. But they didn’t find your body, did they?

Today, there are 21 candles. Who could be at the door in this downpour?

~~~

It is spring here and we are tired of the rain, wanting only fine, sunny days, but Rochelle has to post a rainy night photo just so that we don’t forget to feel grateful for the rain.The weekly party just started over at Friday Fictioneers with this photo prompt –

(photo © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields)

Grace

"The grace of god means something like:
Here is your life.
You might never have been, but you are because the party wouldn't be complete without you.
Here is the world.
Beautiful and terrible things will happen.
Don't be afraid."

~ Frederick Buechner

Sensuous Sundays - Kiwifruit

Kiwi fruit - haiku

mini bursts of

sunshine turn into honey

did I hear a bee?

~~~ 

image source - internet

Suspended

(100-word flash fiction)

The chair topples on the first kick. As if on cue, she steps outside herself.

She is amazed at how the body is wired for survival, as she watches the legs, puppet-like, kick into thin air. Chest straining, by habit, trying to suck in air, so abundant outside. Face crimsoning as blood rushes to her brain. Bells going on inside, screaming ‘Mayhem!’ ‘Mayhem!’

She loses all sense of time. And that dreary greyness that had festered inside her like a light-sucking ghost. She crackles with an aliveness her body had never felt. Unimaginable lightness fills her being.

The door opens.

~~~

Rochelle has posted a lovely image for this week’s Friday Fictioneers prompt.

Photo copyright Ted Strutz

The gift

On dVerse Poets, it’s Abhra’s birthday and he asks, what gift we would like to give him. Or the world. As I was reading his post, quite by happy chance, I heard the tui call …

THE GIFT – tanka

into the cup of

the evening the tui

drops its golden song

my beggar heart rejoices

the moon rises in delight

~~~

What do I call you?

What do I call you? - Haibun

We were young and grieving when we met.

Pain had sat on our lips like wounded birds, afraid to fly. And shone from our eyes, like rough-cut diamonds. It must have emanated from our being, white-hot and searing, drawing us together like moths to a flame. Like little girls, we had giggled, eating candy floss, as though we could pluck joy out of the cool, night air with sticky fingers. Maybe we laughed because we wanted to cry. Maybe we realised that pain can be transmuted into joy. Our hearts cut open and the pain billowing out with our out-breaths allowing joy to flow in with our in-breaths.

That night, at the fair

Joy was sweet, light candy floss

You woke up smiling

I dare not think what I would be if you had not come into my life. It’s like imagining a rainbow with colours missing. Or music with holes in it, the heart searching, in vain, for the missing parts. Or spring without butterflies, afternoons heavy with torpor. I am grateful for the pain that brought you to me, bound us together and then set us free.

What do I call you?

for some things there are no words

just joyful silence

~~~

Over at dVerse Poets Pub, Bjorn and Hamish have set the challenge for Haibun Monday – to write a Haibun inspired by Khalil Gibran’s words. The edict is to write only one haiku, but I am a rule-breaker, and also, the second one just prostrated itself on the page. What to do? I couldn’t kill it. Sorry, Bjorn.

What do I say about Gibran? The heart swells up with joy just thinking about his words. The lyricism, the melody, the grace, the soulfulness and of course, the simple truth in them. I am eternally grateful to the person who introduced me to Gibran.

Sensuous Sundays - Fresh sheets

Fresh sheets - haiku

lying on sheets, crisp

with sunlight, redolent of

sky and fragrant winds

~~~

Minnie Mouse

(100-word flash fiction)

“Matt, come here!” His father’s shout shatters his glorious dream, in which a spaceship had landed beside his house, extended a long, metal arm into his pesky sister’s window, extracted her and shimmered out of view.

His mother’s staring at something on the table. Above the shaving foam over half his face, his father’s frown is ominous.

The object on the table whirrs, beeps and glows incandescent blue.

His brother, Mark, bursts into the room. “I can’t find Minnie anywhere. She’s gone missing.”

“Wowser!” His grin is wicked. “It wasn’t a dream. They took Minnie and left a mouse instead.”

~~~

Come Friday, it’s time to write a piece of flash fiction for the eclectic group Friday Fictioneers hosted by the lovely Rochelle. This week's photo prompt is -

 
Copyright- Marie-Gail Stratford