Fire And Ice

Image courtesy of http://www.google.com

Sunday night passion
Burns silk sheets as I blaze fire
And you melt to ice

A Few Of My Favorite…

Autumn and its falling leaves
Yellow brown red and dry
Rustling on the ground
Feet pounding pavements fast

Slightly sweetened cocoa
Warm and frothy thick
Dark chocolate marble pound cake
A slice or two I think

Quiet days like Tuesday
My nose buried in good books
Daddy’s words of wisdom
Mother’s echoes of truth

Hugs and silly giggles
Melting tired frowns
Me caught in the middle
Of two laughing girls

The pleasant smell of Christmas floating
Hanging in the air
Waiting for winter
To drop like perfect presents
Into thankful happy laps
Warm apple cider
Our sweet fragrance
In the night

The cuddle of giant beds
Great companion to keep it warm

Hot tea and fruity drinks
Lots of biscuits on the side
(Please be aware
Only the English kinds will do)

Laughing out loud
Singing with Julie Andrews
The Sound of Music fills the cool air..

These and many more
Including YOU and I
Love life and God
Are a few of my favorite autumn things

What are some of yours?

For Want Of Entertainment

For want of entertainment
This quiet Saturday night
I grab a good book and some chilled wine
And let sweet thoughts of you
Like good music
Soothe my mind…

They Are Fortunate, I Am Ever Thankful

My children are fortunate
Though they don’t know what that is…

I found myself explaining this to them
The other day while telling them
Not to waste water

I doubt I was ever told that
Growing up with my family
For if ever I turned on the tap
It was to see if water was running

There was no water to waste…

My children are fortunate
Though they are too little to understand it
Especially when I explain to them
That food (yucky veggies or not)
Should be finished completely
None ever wasted or tossed away

I was never told about wasting food
For if ever the issue of food came up
It was to see if it would be enough for us all

Times were hard back then
And so food had to be managed
There wasn’t enough for any to be wasted

I am thankful for those times
So whenever I tell the children
Not to waste
I doubt they understand me
But I understand me and where I am coming from

So I can’t help but conclude
They are very fortunate…

And I am ever thankful

Pièce De Résistance

Illustrate your art
In this-
ME

Make me
Your objet d’art
MONSIEUR

Create a resistance
In this piece (peace)

*Have a lovely weekend!!!*

Restful Night

Autumn rain
With windy city breeze
Sets the tone for a restful night

I Am Spiderman- Friday Fictioneers 9/14

Another round of Friday fictioneers is up and running, thanks to Madison Woods, and this week’s photo is courtesy of the talented Rochelle. I have two offerings as usual, ( a short story and a poem)…please indulge me. This avenue along with your comments and constructive criticisms help me to refine my writing skills.

Please feel free to participate, and comments and constructive criticisms are welcome. THANK YOU ALWAYS!

Image courtesy of Rochelle Wishoff- Fields

SPIDERMAN 100/100

“See mommy, I got a spider web picture” Andrew said; excitement in his fatigued voice as Mommy kissed his warm head.

“I told you I was Spiderman” he continued; Nurse Jenny thinks so too”

“Yes you are darling, and if you continue to be strong then maybe you can be Spiderman again for your birthday, and ride on spider trails at the park…” mommny’s voice shook silently.

“Don’t cry mommy” 6 year old Andrew tried to console his mom…he had been battling leukemia all his life…doctors were losing hope…Andrew continued to fight…

*************************************************************************************************

“Mommy!” ” This is the best birthday ever…I AM SPIDERMAN!!!”

A TANGLED MIND (NEVER SEEING, NEVER SEEN) 88/100

Dirt and cobwebs
Fill the corners of his mind

Dark and shallow in thoughts
He moves about like a ghost

His mind a labyrinth
Intricately perplexed
Never seeing
Never seen

He is but a shadow of himself
A phantom at best

Call him crazed or deranged…

Time has taken a toll on his weary heart
Now dusty heavy and dirty
His mind is tangled through and through

Waiting for nothing in particular
He drifts through life
A character of sorts

Until the curtain drops
His mind stops…

He snaps or
He dies…