20 Lines A Day

A Community of Writers and Photographers


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20 Lines a Day..Thanksgiving Photo Challenge

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I am thankful for the new day…timzauto

Happy Thanksgiving to all…

Thanksgiving day is filled with family and friends , I know we are also busy with events , football, eating ..lol and socializing …I would like to challenge you all to just one picture that describes what you are thankful for….so thruout today just snap one picture and post , maybe we all can see the different ways everyone is thankful for….tag your posts with TGphotochallenge so we can check your pics and enjoy your way of being thankful…Thanks for posting and lets get snapping those photos


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Unnatural Fireworks

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The noisy booms from the sky, streaks of color lighting the clouds,

Yes, it’s the fourth of July, but Mother natures rules this year.

The tiny creek is a raging river, littered with trees, bird feeders, toys.

Our grave driveway is underneath the water that blocks the road.

My dad worked at the Tennessee Valley Authority when I was a kid.

Their job was to try to manage flood control. Where there were floods,

We went to photograph, special phone numbers told river levels.

We filled out charts in the days when a main frame took up a room-did one thing.

It’s in my blood. Two of my sons son and two friends sloshed up the road.

The water running down what used to be roads, way to deep to be safe.

Taking videos, pictures, laughing, giving up on umbrellas, soaked to the skin.

Though we laughed, it was muted, somber. We knew why the yards of mud came.

Our mountain city is obsessed with getting rich people from other places to come here.

Strip the vegetation so they can “see” from houses we couldn’t dream of.

We shout to no one, “GO HOME!” CLEAN UP THIS MESS!” But they keep coming.

The collapsed retaining wall and 8 feet of lost land are somehow “our” problem.

I know how the native Americans felt. For “white folks” we’ve been here a long time.

The 1780 US Census lists us in this county, by 1840, we were on this road.

We have lived in this house 5 generations and now my kids can’t afford to live her.

Something is really wrong with this. It used to be a quiet farming community.

I can’t help it, I am mad. I know good people have come here too.

For all the greedy developers, mostly bankrupt before to long, I have one message,”Go the heck home, glare down on your “lessers”, ruin their land, build mansions, ruin the land,

and don’t forget to take pictures of w=what life was like before you ruined it for them.


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The Resolution

“So,” Mr.  Shelburn smirked, as he swayed by my desk, already overloaded with work that accumulated during the holiday. “What is your New Years Resolution?”

I forced myself to breathe in-slowly. I was seething inside.

“Sure,” he laughed, glancing down at the mass of papers that seemed to clutter my desk already.

“Hmm,” I sighed, looking up at his arrogant grin. “You want a resolution? “ I stacked the pile of papers, crumpled them into a  wad, then merrily tossed them into the trash can.

“My promise is to realize what is REALLY important in life, and do away with the rest.”

Suddenly, everyone smiled.


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Have A Holly Jolly Christmas

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The male is above

 

and this is the female

 

 

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I bought these two plants for my parents and placed them into the ground as tiny plants in 2000 twelve years later they are shoulder height on me and need to be pruned but every time I want to Mom says “Then I won’t have flowers or berries for the birds.”   Gee even I Trim MINE

 

Holly is one of those plants that make you think of Christmas

Have a Very Merry Christmas

Peace and Love

Eunice


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In the Days of Long Ago

One day, we gather around the fire,
Eat and sip warm drinks
in thanks for all we have.

The next day, as if to purge ourselves
of any of  the warmth of hearth and home.
We awake before dawn.

We rush into the lines of traffic,
the masses of souls pushing  each other.
Complain and wait to stroke our credit cards.

Merry Christmas, Happy Chanukah!
The bells and the red kettles beside
smiling, shivering volunteers.

I miss the days my grandma remembered.
Hunting a tree in the pasture,
A stocking with fruit and candy,

Eight candles in the night.
Thinking of why we have so much.
Hoping our children remember that one day.


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I Want Time

In our small town the light posts are all decked
in Christmas garb. The carols have begun.
But why? I want to know. The ground’s still flecked
with leaves. The costumed goblins had their fun,

Thanksgiving’s not yet here. We need to rest
around each celebration, let it steep.
I wish anticipation in the quest
that waiting brings. Excited children creep

toward Christmas trees and Santa. But we spoil
much happiness by heaping holidays
upon another, overlapping soil
of Halloween on giving thanks, a maze

diluting Christmas. In my perfect world,
each should enjoy its own significance.
The flags of holidays should be unfurled
by bits, allowing us to see their dance.

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