20 Lines A Day

A Community of Writers and Photographers


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Birthday Wish

It’s the lonely old man’s birthday.

He remembers his 10th birthday, 60 years ago, when he celebrated it with friends, parents, and boxes of water guns.

He remembers his 30th birthday, 40 years ago, when he celebrated it with partners, mistresses and wads of cash.

He remembers his 50th birthday, 20 years ago, when he celebrated it with children, grandchildren and bottles of champagne.

Today he celebrates his 70th birthday with a wooden table, a wooden chair, and four empty walls.

His mind is of anticipation. A wooden box, a wooden dais, a small white floral wreath.

 

 

c Sorrows in a Serenade


Ghosts

Hi guys! This was written as an entry for the Trifextra Writing Challenge at http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/2012/12/trifextra-week-forty-five.html! If you like if please take the time to vote for me (it’s community judged), really appreciate it! (my link is Sorrows In A Serenade). Thanks! :)

 

Ghosts of boxy apartment

walls wail watching

soul after soul fall; fail

spectacularly –

clean, crisp sheets tugged

up by cold, clammy fingers of hell,

smothering and blinding.

Light succumbs, darkness wins.

Ghosts wail.

 

 


Hollow

finally back after a long uncomfortable absence, I hate not posting regularly :(

hollow eyes -
window to
hollow soul.
rainbows of youth
faded, dull grey hues
plague cloudy skies.
winged dreams fall
battered, bashed, shattered, torn.
muted screams heard –
from the aching
gnawing inside.
they cling onto shreds of
life


2 Comments

Bridges

I walk along the rivers
Which sources lie between
The pale white clouds in the sky
Which ends anywhere
Its tail a snaking wisp of smoke

I want to cross
The rickety wooden bridge
To the other side,
An uncharted mysterious terrain where
Strangeness is subjective.

January, and with it comes new courage,
New light,
New heart.
I finally cross it.
The raging rapids conquered
Connections, bold
And strong.

 

www.sorrowsinaserenade.wordpress.com


1 Comment

Song of the Star

Dear children,

I am the star -
No, not the enchanting, twinkling stars
In the dark night sky

Those, are for dreamers.

I am the star -
Glittering, alluring
The lamp to your future.

I am the brightest.

Come to me, dear children.
Into my world – your world – of A-Stars.

There are only stars, and the
Occasional
Shooting star.

There are no rainbows here for you to chase,
No fruitless quests for that pot of gold.
Child,
those, are for dreamers.

Join me in my song,
The chant of many -
Star, star, star.
A perfect, melodious harmony
Trembling with desire. Perfection. Rings in our ears.

Come to me, dear children.

I am the star that you need.

Not the twinkling stars in the night sky -
They are blind and dull.
Those,
Are for dreamers.

www.sorrowsinaserenade.wordpress.com


The Photocopy Machine

Green glow consumes the person.

Churning, whirring,
White papers with black dots, white papers with black dots, white papers with black dots
Again.
The same blots on the same purity.

Hours and hours and hours. Again.

White blouse. Black skirt. White nails.
Permed black hair. White ring. Black boots.

Hello,

How do you do?

Please pay,
$x for one pristine replication.

www.sorrowsinaserenade.wordpress.com

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