A Look at the Past #flashfiction

…A moment

A memory…

That was all there was.

“Look back it’s our fragrant past but sadly not our promising future.”

A tear streamed down her face

knowing she had misplaced an old friend’s plans.

He had waited all these years to hear

“you broke my heart once there is nothing left to hold dear.”

Photo: “Lonely Bench” L. Moon copyright 2011

Each Thursday night 8pm EST there is an opportunity to share with others your work of flash fiction. It’s short, it’s only 55 words, it’s a challenge. So instead of your Sudoku for Friday try a flash fiction hosted by G-Man aka Mr. Know it All.

Waiting for You #poem (One shot Wednesday)

I sat looking

Waiting

Hoping

for One last glimpse

of us

***

There we were on our bench

the picture so clear

sweet summer fragrance

eyes only for each other

***

You held me tight

beneath the maple trees

emanating warmth

even in the fall breeze

***

Words they heard

in our lover’s embrace

carefully conveyed into the night

as though they had done this before

***

You were only a breath away

whispered never “let you go”

gave me hope for tomorrow

yet  I am here all alone

***

That love so strong

had one weak link

more than tears rusted through

our loving embrace

***

So I make a vigil

before our bench

I cast my love

into the frosty night

***

Into barren arms of naked maples

and cold winter air

“please hold my dreams tight”

they hear me whisper

****

I listen for hopes of you

things not spoken my dear

perhaps no one will hear

but maybe they will get

through to you

This poem is in honor of the men and women whose love was separated forever by disaster the day that Pearl Harbor was attacked December 7, 1941.

Join us at One Stop Poetry where the poems are always fantastic and inspirational too. One Shot Wednesday is open to anyone interested in sharing their poetry with like minded writers.

Photography: Leslie Moon – Fall bench

Benson Kua – winter bench

*http://www.flickr.com/photos/bensonkua/3293510705/

If you were here

I would never stop talking

there would always be

answers leading to more questions

deep moments of

silence

I’d gaze

you’d grin

private joke

no explanation needed

I’d look for your approval

your consent

you wisely know

the right words to

say

We’d tell stories

gazing at the stars

searching their secrets

holding hopes and dreams

close in our

arms

Thanks for the Photo: Jared Smith (Licensing Creative Commons)

The Boy and The Stick (Saturday Story)

I have decided to try something new for this blog. I’ve been a storyteller since I was 8. Children loved sitting and hearing me tell a story before bedtime or a nap or just in-between something. I’ll try it with older kids and see what happens. Worst case I’ll create a story section for you to read to your children.

The Boy and The Stick

This story takes us back to a time that was simpler. Noises outside weren’t drowned out by motors and the air was still clean to breathe. Children played outside and made up games with a ball and a stick. We enter our story in the middle of a field with the boy, the stick, and a dog.

All boys will tell you that their imagination can get the better of them when they have a stick and a ball. Jessie’s imagination was no different on that warm, sunny afternoon in Upstate New York.

“The bases are loaded and there are two outs at Yankee stadium. It’s the bottom of the ninth  – the Yanks are down by one. Jesse Miller is up to bat. He hasn’t been able to come through in the clutch so far this season. Too bad that this isn’t Maris’ spot in the line-up.  He’s been having one heck of a year.”

Jessie throws the ball in the air and makes contact with the baseball. The ball goes farther than he has ever hit it before. “Run Jessie run” his dog seems to pant. So run he does. All the way around the bases as he slides into home the ball comes whirling over  home plate – Too late! Jessie looks up with a grin as his friend Owen runs in to join the game.

“Nice hit Jessie – you parked that one. Wonder what you could have done with a real bat?”

“ Awww it was just an accident – Owen.”

When Jessie got home that night, his mother looked more drained than usual. That meant dad had been home at lunch and had taken what he wanted. Dad wasn’t home, fortunately, so he quickly cleaned up and loaded firewood in the stove; the only source of heat for the shack that they called home.

“How was your day Jessie”, his curly-haired sister asked.

“It was fine Barbie.” He flashed a smile toward the little sister he adored.

Just them he heard the door slam.

“You left a baseball and mitt outside. We paid good money for those things; they’ll be ruined,” his dad said as he smacked Jessie’s head with the back of his hand.

Jessie never made excuses to his dad. So he didn’t tell him that he had oiled his mitt and wanted it to dry before bringing it inside. He ran to get the mitt and ball and placed them in a brown box under the army cot that served as his bed.

Growing Up

Jessie worked hard at school so that he could play sports after school. When his father left during his freshman year of high school, Jessie’s mom tried to pull him out of school so that he could work full-time to support the family. The School Board intervened. Jessie was allowed to go to school but there wasn’t much time for sports. The School Board didn’t consider baseball a necessary part of Jessie’s education and mother made him get an after school job. Coach Bryant was kind and saw promise in Jessie. Whenever  Jessie could slip away or get a day off, he was allowed to practice with the team. Jessie continued to practice in the field by his house every evening until he couldn’t see his hands.

Then the summer of his junior year came, it was time to consider his options.

“I can run away and get a job somewhere. I can get a full-time summer job so mom can take every last penny I earn.  I can hang out with Danny and the guys. They make good money selling dope.  I can go to camp and play baseball most of the summer.”

Jessie dreamed of baseball from sun up until he passed out at night. The possibility of going to camp to play baseball was a dream- an impossible dream.

Mother waved mail in Jessie’s face one day, “This is for you.”

Jessie never got mail. He opened the envelope. He held a clean, white, type written letter in his hand. As he read it, his face glowed with a hope that had long been extinguished.

“Mother, I’ve been invited to attend a baseball camp down state for the summer. It doesn’t cost anything and there is a part-time job available for me to make money for you and sis.”

He wasn’t going to beg; he just clasped his hands together in hope.

“Well if you are gone, we will save money on food and I won’t have to worry about you causing no trouble with those boys you ben seein.”

Trying to hold back his excitement -he flatly said, “that means I can go?”

“Yeh- I guess.”

Realizing Dreams

Jessie went down the street to his field and let out a huge whoop and holler. The next day he shared the news with Coach who smiled a knowing grin. He knew this summer would decide Jessie’s future. He hoped, as two other families who had pitched in for baseball camp, that Jessie would succeed.

“It’s the bottom of the ninth the Yanks are down by one. Jesse Miller is up to bat. He hasn’t been able  to come through in the clutch so far this season. Too bad that this isn’t … “Strike One. Ball Two… That kid needs to get focus… uh it’s a high-flying ball curved to left field… It’s gone!!!!”

The fans were standing, yelling, and clapping as Jessie slid into home (because he always did). Owen and Barbie were waving Yankee pennants as Jessie smiled his thanks. The boy with the stick was living his dream.

Check out  Glynn‘s  site for the Saturday Good Reads

Thanks to Bukutgirl for the baseball photo.

Thanks for the Yankee Jersey photo: NyCla

Spotlight on a young poet/writer




I Danced With the Devil

by Brenda Porter

The past has slipped through my fingers
And the future threatens to consume me
My hopes and dreams turn to fears
As you impose your acrimonious views on me
The depiction of an existence at your side
Is tempting in its magnificent splendor
But its a ruse I’ve been told
This letting doubt seep into the cracks of my heart
But you eradicate my skepticism with your tone
I’m surrendering to you my soul without resistance
Now I’ve fallen for your deception
Your grip is starting to tighten and I’m losing my head
This deadness is permeating through me
I can’t bottle these emotions inside
Yet I’m struggling to let them out
The battles underway and I’m on the losing team
Suddenly I see a glimmer
Might it be hope coming to undermine me again?
Or a redeeming saving grace
On its way to elicit the poison you’ve infused
The struggle worsens turning my eyes from you
I’m loosening my grip on existence
Ready to relinquish everything to this demon
Unexpectedly you call me by name
My eyes flash back to your glorious light
I’m struggling now to take hold of you
The demons grip is loosening
I can feel your aura grasping me
Eliciting me from the grasp of this fiend
I can’t focus on anything but your splendid face
Then as I look for redemption in your magnificent eyes
I can breathe again realizing what I’d done
I’d dance with the devil.
***
check out Brenda’s blog

http://neverlosesightofthedream.blogspot.com

Thanks to kennymatic for the photo (see link below)