Divergent Path

divergent path


Beware angels and demons who reminisce

a life unstrung with each opportunity gone amiss

A path followed with purpose will rise above their doubt

Hidden in those moments before dawn, a battle we will mount

We know after the rain comes sweet bliss


On the mend, open to better, open to this

their condemnation we dismiss

Let them snicker, let them pout

these angels and demons who reminisce


Enemy and false prophet, both remiss

as pointed attempts to guide us fire and miss

Advice and admonition we can do without

Let them fume, let them spout

as of our hard-won victory we reminisce

Beware those angels and demons

photo: Pixabay


prompts: #IntrigueVerse, #NovemberFallsPoetry, #WyldeVerse, #inkMine




Author Interview – Cecelia Wilson – “Back to Bremen” (Non-Fiction/History/WWII)

toofulltowrite (I've started so I'll finish)

Hey there everyone.

The weekend is upon us once more, doesn’t time fly when you are having fun!

Come to think of it, where has most of 2017 gone too? Pretty much down the plughole if I am honest with you! 🙂 I feel like I’ve blinked and missed most of it.

OK, let’s get serious for a minute, even if it hurts.

Just a quick note before we get started properly. I link to a lot of other articles in my posts, so WordPress users please check your Spam folders in your Setting Menus and approve any links/pingbacks that you find from me to improve the visibility of your own blog posts, as well as mine, it’s a win win for us both 😉

As you may have seen in my videos and posts of the past few days, I am currently in the midst of poetry madness all…

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Silence of Truth

silence of truth


I believe you

I understand the power of silence

Silence sometimes bathed in hostility

Silence sometimes viewed from the inside looking out

Out of need driven by organized chaos

Out of necessity dictated by denial

Denial blossoms in a closet of secrets

Denial weaves webs of misdirected power

Power destroyed by me

Power destroyed by you

You join the chorus as I sing your tune

You are more than one voice

Voice after voice after voice after voice

Voice the weapon that bellows across decades

Decades that steal the innocence of a child

Decades that redefine fate

Fate fickle

Fate steadfast

Steadfast in our mission to uncover

Steadfast in this journey we travel together

Together we are silent no more

Together we are mighty

Mighty are those not meek

Mighty movements begin with a single step

Step in line they said

Step back they cautioned

Cautioned victims have had enough

Cautioned lives have turned around

Around the world we watch their status drop

Around our tables we make them pay

Pay attention as time draws near

Pay for crimes unpunished too long

Long is our memory

Long is our resolve

Resolve to fight the sly and deceitful

Resolve to be silent no more

More than a smile on a pretty face

More than something to be cast aside

Aside from simple decline

Aside from a slap on the wrist well-deserved

Well-deserved consequences abound

Well-deserved retribution rents space in our hearts

Hearts once broken

Hearts pumping blood through veins of the courageous

Courageous moments begin now

Courageous as we speak our truth

Truth breaks the bond of secrets

Truth is a shared belief

Belief is shared




photo: Pixabay

prompts: Wednesday Poetry Prompts 415, #SWPrompt 34, #WyldeVerse, Five Minute Friday, Sunday Whirl 324

An Education in Regret

education in regret.jpg

He was a boy back then

sitting in my classroom, head down

always primed for a fight as if the enemy that threatened

to swallow all the oxygen in our cramped space

was me, was him…just was


There weren’t many days I could coax a smile from his crooked mouth

but now and then, a glimmer of hope battled his perpetual scowl

and won


Those were days worth remembering


As we moved together in our lopsided dance

progress was made and lost and made again

His intelligence, a saving grace

His rage, a formidable enemy

My efforts, genuine but not quite enough

We both grew weary but pushed ahead


And as our time together drew to a close

I worried but let go, choosing to believe

potential would trump adversity,

that a few years beyond this teenage angst would smooth his rough edges,

that the thoughtfulness behind those angry eyes would persevere


When I read the local paper last night, I recognized it,

the power of anger

His name in black and white listed in a police report

drugs, violence, resisting arrest

still primed for a fight


I remembered his fleeting smile, remembered the hope


and acknowledged the failure that weighs heavy,

wondering if I could have done something to alter the path he now follows

A young man now making choices made that bring real consequences


I mourn for the boy I did not reach



photo: Pixabay

Halloween Horror


Moonlight hidden on a foggy night

yellow eyes glowing under a scarlet veil

shadows soaring on abandoned walls

this could be the stuff of nightmares

even as bells toll at midnight and

ravens gather at cemetery gates

images haunt, ghoulish and ghastly

old wolves whine and howl

until the last survivor is



photo: Goodfreephotos.com

prompts: OctPoWriMo, WordPress Daily Post

Endless Love

endless love


A taste of forbidden honey is never as sweet

a chance to reach fruition is never quite complete

when the task of arduous lovers becomes a simple swan song

How can the goal of faith, hope, and love be wrong?


A new adjuration falls ambiguous against her laconic replies

Posturing in ill fitting costumes, the chasm widens as she denies

Undeterred, he cantors to loosen that locked jaw, knowing they belong

How can the goal of faith, hope, and love be wrong?


And so he sang mellisonant tunes to reveal that spare key

Her stone heart, a rift soon to open with this decree

Damn the curse, this crevasse of yesterday, tomorrow – the gift all long

How can the goal of faith, hope, and love be wrong?


A taste of forbidden honey paired with faith brings hope

a chance to reach fruition with love helps each one cope

Trust, trust that this sanctioned love is lifelong

How can the goal of faith, hope, and love be wrong?



photo: Pexels

prompts: OctPoWriMo, MLLM Wordle 176, #TastyPoem, #pinkprompt, #inkMine





Dreams and Nightmares


Take me to that place

the shelter from this storm

Gratitude mimics need as I try to find space


Somewhere in the mist my walk becomes a chase

I search for you by the pine and pebbles as my thoughts swarm

Take me to that place


I lose my breath as bells chime and my heart keeps pace

Wilted petals dropped by the shore, I sigh as landscapes transform

Gratitude mimics need as I try to find space


The sky begins to clear as our history I retrace

back to the days when we were content not to conform

Take me to that place


Wanting what I can’t have, such is the case

This wayward soul can not reform

Gratitude mimics need as I try to find space


In my final hours, I see your face

Breathtaking visions dance and form

Take me to that place

Gratitude mimics need as I fill this empty space


photo: Pixabay

prompts: OctPoWriMo, #SableSwanV, #VerseAngel, WordPress Daily Post, Sunday Whirl 323



Faithful Companions


An old man whistles

as he shuffles down the sidewalk

Each step an effort

The effects of time

his constant companion

A well-lived life

his source of inspiration


His old dog

limps along beside him

Each step an effort

Still he follows

A loyal companion

His well-lived life

with his gentle Master


They make quite a pair

A familiar site

As they make their way

from here to there

Each of us smiling

wondering where they go

as they pass by

while the old man



Reblogging an old poem originally written in 2014

Time’s Blossoms

time's blossoms.jpg


tender memories

peonies in the driveway

childhood dreams linger





I am combining two prompts today. The first asks, “Do you have a memory attached to a flower?” The second asks us to consider this haiku by Issa and respond to it. Here it is:


blades of grass–

lost among the raindrops

autumn dew


My grandparents had a row of peonies planted against their brick house. I was always fascinated by the frilly, full petals. Now whenever I see these flowers, I think of my grandparents and smile. To me, Issa’s poem ties in because as children we played in the small backyard by those flowers and even when the autumn chill stole the blossoms of those bushes, I knew they’d be back. It’s funny how random memories can bring the greatest comfort.



photo: Pixabay

prompts: OctPoWriMo, MLMM Heeding Haiku With Chèvrefeuille






Finding connection between courage and caution

Silent moments resonate in naked reflection

In this dream, the blind see


Undiscovered sacrifice comes knocking every so often

Summoning the sun as skies drizzle, I curse my imperfection

Finding connection between courage and caution


In a quiet room, I pray on bended knee

Waiting, waiting on a path to choose

Silent moments resonate in naked reflection


A matter of faith, this search for truth

My mind wanders with each possibility

In this dream, the blind see


photo: Flickr

prompts: OctPoWriMo, SammiScribbles, #RavensVeil, Creative Talents Unleashed




Satisfaction lingers long after the chatter

Accomplishment mine to hold

In secret, I sample both the fiery and bland

My smile a shadow as I savor each victory

Haunted nights released, the ultimate success


What’s done is done and what is not, no matter

Accomplishment mine, calculated and cold

Refreshing – this final stand

I embrace those who would name me contradictory

A master plan, I confess


Vindication as enemies scatter

Accomplishment mine as achievements unfold

Failure, an option perpetually banned

Now is the time to rewrite history

A new identity as heaven and hell coalesce


photo: Pexels

prompts: OctPoWriMo, #WyldeVerse, WordPress Daily Post




Love of One

Love as One

None as complicated

as the game of love

Love as a puzzle

Love as a gift

Gift immortalized in music

Gift celebrated in poetry

Poetry both savory and sweet

Poetry legendary and true

True emotions lost in constellations

True boundaries defined by irregular borders

Borders on the mad

Borders on the effervescent

Effervescent ingénue is radiant

Effervescent martinis shared on a romantic night

Night spies its spell

Night holds the best vantage point

Point toward that trademark arrow

Point toward hearts emitting perpetual light

Light makes ways for true companions

Light glowing under the full moon

Moon marks the way

Moon and stars sparkling

Sparkling eyes shimmer

Sparkling weathervane spins

Spins in time as lovers dance

Spins round and round

Round that old rule of thumb

Round rules meant to be broken

Broken calculus of what is supposed to be

Broken expectations leave room for so much more

More than a word

More than a feeling

Feeling everything as new

Feeling secure in what has become familiar

Familiar hands to hold

Familiar lips to kiss

Kiss to remember

Kiss to forget

Forget all that have come before

Forget all but your beloved

Beloved bestows purpose

Beloved brings meaning

Meaning made clear

Meaning brings life

Life spent together

Life lived as one

One in love

One forever





Image by George Hodan on PublicDomainPictures


prompts: OctPoWriMo, #pinkprompt, WordPress Daily Post, #VerseAngel, MLMM Wordle 175



Any day, any time now

before it’s too late

change will come


Delays battle deadlines

even on a small scale

Frustration is inevitable


Garner that resolve,

hunker down for the long haul

Inspiration is borne of patience


Justice knows no bounds

kneeling before righteousness

Long for vindication too long coming


Many might reconsider

not willing to endure

old-fashioned hard work


Problems beg for resolution

Questions demand answers

Realize we can solve them together


Somehow change will come

today or tomorrow, by proclamation or covert operation

Unknown victories will one day be revealed


Vying for a place to call our own

we make a difference

Xenial relationships can find common ground


Yearn for this change to come

Zoom toward that future now unfolding


photo: Flickr


prompt: OctPoWriMo

Below the Middle

below the middle

Stuck in a place where the world panders to the middle,

assumptions are made defining what I need, what I want,

what it is I desire, what might be attainable

Things I must have to make me a person of value

A constant barrage daring me to measure my self-worth

against societal rankings I had no part in creating


Having lived once in a world of madhouse mirrors, my hunger for more

held paralyzing allure, a deceptive lull between craving, wanting, yearning

for things I did not need – these greasepaint monsters working subtle terror

Peaking in a frenzy of random consumption, it had no choice but to collapse


It was beautiful, this moment of honesty, of release


Hunger driven by a need to fill my soul

Thirst satisfied by the nectar of simple ways

What I want now is different from what I need


At the end of the day, after campaigns conclude and revenue is calculated

and that imaginary bar is set even higher, after careers are made and broken,

I remain here wavering on whimsical designations with complete satisfaction

knowing what I desire – truth, love, the freedom acceptance brings,

and an occasional taste of sweetness,

are always attainable


photo: mine


prompts: OctPoWriMo, WordPress Daily Post, #MadCarnival/#MadVerse









Crashing Dreams

crashing dreams


None could predict the madness living in a childhood nightmare

would become reality. Not for us anyway. We could not imagine it might

become our story. Monsters aren’t supposed to dwell in our closets or under the bed

but sometimes they do, disguised in the apathetic dressing of those who proclaim loyalty.

That’s the most difficult part, being brave: having the courage to feel

while the world turns a blind eye.


Crashing dreams as death

living against shattered hope

today wanes, alone

Alone, today wanes

hope shattered against living

death as dreams, crashing


photo: mine


prompts: OctPoWriMo, #WyldeVerse, #RRPrompt13, #SableSwanVerse, #BentHalos, #BecomingFragile, MLMM Heeding Haiku With Chèvrefeuille, WordPress Daily Post



Shared Lives

IMG_0325 (2)


My daughter says she listens to the sound of my feet shuffling each morning,

my slippers scuffing well-worn carpet as if on automatic pilot.


Even behind her closed door, she feels me move.


Years spent locked in joint struggle does that. Or it doesn’t. We were lucky.


This new life, the daily battle to make do with what we had,

to figure out how to make almost nothing stretch into something

was my doing. I summoned the rabbit hole.


At first, it was almost a game.

Pancakes for dinner and loud music blaring as we danced in the kitchen.

We relished this new place where the rules of yesterday no longer applied.


No more angry voices or fists making that hollow sound when they open holes in walls.

Bottles of beer no longer turned over on tabletops or stacked in corners.

No more demands that even she knew could never quite be satisfied.


We slipped into routines we created by chance.


Those days slipped into months and soon into years.

We still shared tears. She patted my back as I cried the time the bathtub was left running

and water poured from the ceiling. I can’t fix this I told her as it rained on our heads.

I can still hear her little voice whisper. It’s ok, Mommy.


These were words she’d often say as we climbed the mountains single mothers face.

She wasn’t yet ten when she was rushed to the hospital with a bad asthma attack.

Even when she lay still in that bed, exhausted, she’d whisper. It’s ok, Mommy.

Somehow it was and our new life slowly became the only one we knew.


She’s off to classes most days and working the others while I spend mine at my desk.

She says she wants to take a picture of me as I write. It’s the image she’s used to now.


I suppose this is the way she’ll remember me; author of a life we shared.














Safety and fear intertwine

Corruption abided by rules and regulation

All the while, the swain tramps across the fen

to swear allegiance under the gibbous moon


The waif, brunette hair matted by neglect, slinks into the corner

of a garage filled with weapons she can not name

Her lilliputian life, the perfect cover

to grasp all that had once been taboo


Once a place where fields of wildflowers grew with abandon

it is now a graveyard of bombshells and bodies


War has come to paradise


The blind man still sings in the marketplace,

his melodious song not heard by mawkish children scrounging for food


Each man is loyal to his cause

Each cause slurps men into a cauldron of demise

Turn signals misused to guide them down devious path

as captains pester those that dare decline


As old as the ages, this urge to fight

claiming the young, the infirm, the charmed, the disillusioned

Corruption abided by rules and regulation

Safety and fear intertwine


photo: Flickr/loren chipman


prompts: OctPoWriMo, WordPress Daily Post, MLMM Wordle 174, #TLPoetry


*One of today’s prompts asked us to think of our fears. These days, the prospect of war is one of the things that keeps me up at night.






intrigue verse thoreau quote


I see you. Mired in madness, struggling to be free, you search for a way out. Embrace this journey as those butterflies in your stomach feel more like carnivorous crabs piercing the pit of your soul. Sometimes we must descend into darkness. Sometimes we must view reality through a skewed lens to gain perspective. I see you. We belong to the same kind, the same tribe. And as you fight this battle, know when you reach the other side, Retrospect will reveal your inner beauty. Ride this river of time. I’ll be there, waiting on the sandy shore.


Ascend with intent

Your pilgrimage to find truth

evolves from within

photo: #IntrigueVerse/Manal Jweiles


prompts: OctPoWriMo, #IntrigueVerse, #inkMine, #SableSwanVerse, WordPress Daily Post





Mother’s Love

mother's love


A mother’s mission to protect her child

She holds him above the fray, the inhumanity

in this place where good and evil are reconciled

knowing claims of decency present as beguiled profanity

Her tender love and warrior spirit juxtaposed

At one moment encouraging him to fly while her heavy arms resist

letting go, letting go, letting go

Bitter and sweet, this role nature has disposed

She rallies against the heavens, this gift, this curse it will bestow

In the end she will succumb to this path, hoping the years are slow


Not content to live vicariously, she resists the easy and summons the hard

to create a model that encourages kindness while resisting naiveté

To nurture a boy who will grow into a man, heart unbarred

Even as the world goes mad, he will be a castaway

A man who has everything and is willing to share with the few

Lessons both shallow and deep to carry with him as he grows

A mother’s mission to remind, remember, to incite and console

That is her victory, her coup

because even as she releases her hold, she will remain in the shadow

She will relinquish control but never her goal


And when she is gone, her grave marked by porcelain and stone

her soul will rest with ease

He will visit, this boy now fully grown

Her voice, lilting and strong on the breeze

Memories of words teaching him right from wrong

swirl around his tear-stained face, stirring a need to follow

as he shields his newborn baby against the afternoon sun

His tender love and warrior spirit with hers all along

Encouraging her to fly even as his heart feels hollow

He is a good man because of all she’s done



photo: Pixabay


prompts: OctPoWriMo, WordPress Daily Post, #VerseAngel prompt 129, MLMM Saturday Mix




Little Ballerina

little ballerina


Imagination stands in the road, conducting

music, ubiquitous as a little girl dreams

She is a prima ballerina dancing in the clouds

Rain, no match as she clutches her skirt in her hands

Her steps measured, softened by the mist

Arabesque, En Avant, Chassé


Her arms hold a dozen invisible roses as she moves… chassé, chassé

Skies simmer as she raises her sapling arms, conducting

branches swaying in a fierce wind shrouded in mist

She dawdles and reverses her step, lost in dreams

Joy revealed when innocence is held in her hands

An angel’s loop splays across the clouds


She embraces the fog, these low-slung clouds

as she traces a granny knot in the dirt, chassé, chassé

Little girl dancing, releasing butterflies in her hands

She follows their flight, beauty conducting

Anything is possible as she dreams

there alone in the mist


She imagines magic breathes in that mist

bringing to life her performance in the clouds

She knows the power of dreams

as she practices arabesque, en avant, chassé

She hears the orchestra and the maestro conducting

as she mimics his movements with her hands


As delicate as snowflakes in her hands

she is one with the mist

Imagination and dreams conducting

this ballet in the clouds

Arabesque, En Avant, Chassé

She dreams, she dreams


She believes in the magic of dreams,

this world she holds in her hands

surrounded by steps…en avant, chassé

bathed in a cool night’s mist

beneath a sky of clouds

Imagination stands in the road, conducting


Captured in moments draped in mist

and protected by angels in the clouds

anything is possible when imagination is conducting

photo: Pixabay/jill111


prompts: OctPoWriMo, MLMM Wordle 171, #TLPoetry



Perfect Partners

mark and michele (2)

He watches as I slip away

each afternoon, keeping time

with the afternoon sun

as it dips below the horizon


Such is our routine


I disappear…completely

into a world set to its own soundtrack

I dance with my muse

as she reveals the day’s secrets


He is satisfied to wait

as I wander the walls I’ve built

Witness to the images I conjure

from words that haunt my mind


Exceptional, our routine


And when I fight my way back,

when I release this energy and return

exhausted and spent,

he is there to pull me back to a safe place


We turn up the music and dance

Celebration, as is our routine


photo: mine


prompts: OctPoWriMo, #BentHalos, #WyldeVerse, WordPress Daily Post








Enthralled by the prospect of new adventure

she followed blindly, slipping into a world where

smoke and ash painted forgotten corners

with the blood of the innocent


Whispers in the mist fueled the mystery

as anxious breaths betrayed bravado

Initiation demanded participation as she tried

to strike a balance between temptation and courage


Last minute misgivings guided her spirit

A feeling no words could capture

composed of a need to self-heal

these demons leading her astray


And when this thrilling intrigue lost its grip

murmurs in her ear became clear

She heard voices urging her

to deny this wayward path


A simple act – to believe

The ghosts of the past speak

to all who listen and embrace

the power of intuition


photo: Pixabay


prompts: OctPoWriMo, #DimpleVerse, #TastyPoem, #MadVerse. #MadCarnival, WordPress Daily Post