Occasionally, we come across a piece of work that wakes us up. This is one such work. If you feel so inclined, give him a follow. You won’t be disappointed as he writes as though a constant flame is burning deep within him, i.e., he’s always on fire. Yaaasss!
Please show the author some love via the “Original post.”
Peace.
How good are you at using six words creatively? Go on, give it a whirl. This week’s theme is “madness.”
Challenge open Saturday 24th November 2018 – Thursday 29th November 2018
Welcome to a slightly late Six Word Story Challenge.
Regular contributors, my apologies! It’s been a hectic week, moving back home after 2 weeks living out while the kitchen was rebuilt, then a visit from one of my oldest and best friends – all of which has left me very behind with other commitments. But I’m back, albeit 12 hours late!
So for those who have never dropped by before, here’s how it works. A new prompt is posted every Saturday morning at 9am (or thereabouts) GMT, either on this site or that of fellow blogger Wonderwall. Your mission, if you choose to accept it, is to plot a story on that subject… in just six words. And your prompt for this week, echoing the crazy busy week I’ve had, is:
Madness
And here’s my attempt to get…
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If this isn’t truth in plain sight, I do not know what could be. Such power in so few words and this is what she does consistently.
Peace and blessings, beautiful people. Be well and be good to yourself and to others.
… spend so much time looking without seeing that we end up being blind.
If you ever think you are lost at constructing or mastering haiku, find your way here. Inspiration at its finest.
when you speak softly ~ I’m sorry for my silence ~ for my loss of words — © Lize Bard @ Haiku out of Africa
Some poems require nothing else but you to read them and allow them to sink in. This is one of those poems.
Your suitcase is by the door in my mind
you have unpacked and packed a thousand times
it’s now or never, it’s been too long
you’re out of here, you’re out of love
empty like a meal without nourishment
and if I could, I’d ask you to come back
but you left before today
I see it in the careless gaze of your eyes
the house is empty without your noise
I hear only the echo of regrets
ask you to return and you ignore my voice
the coldness in your stare gave you away
there was nothing but bitterness and anger remaining
you said it wasn’t me, but I was the one you cut down
with your stare that went on, out of sight
down the road, out of town
like you were already running away
boarding a bus, changing your story
it’s been half my life and it’s…
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The homie Barry, doing what he does best. This poem was one of the first I read this morning and I am glad that it was. Please show him some love.
Peace and blessings, beautiful people.
Photo by Anish Nair on Unsplash
The sun lingers longest today.
The weather-guessers were wrong
about the heat wave.
In fact, there was light precipitation.
I don’t even know why I wrote
“precipitation” instead of “rain”.
I’m no meteorologist.
I guess the unscheduled rainfall
wasn’t up to my lofty standards.
It was a halfhearted rainfall,
followed by an indifferent sunbreak.
Felt more like angel’s spit
than the weeping we’ve earned
for this crapsack existence.
My hemisphere turned
fully into the true glare
of sunlight, and everywhere I turn,
I glare at two shadows
of the Four Noble Truths.
I see only suffering and
man’s indifference to it.
I see children crying in pain,
fear, hunger, and terror;
if they’re lucky, they’ll just receive
the mercy of ignorance
in the form of being ignored,
or perhaps they’ll only languish
as the butt of cruel jokes
they’re mostly ignorant to.
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A Cornered Gurl 
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