20 Lines A Day

A Community of Writers and Photographers


Heartsong

Bedroom with moonlight and smoke

Twilight sparkles in violet eyes
that gaze upon a star-filled night
ponder the vastness of the world in view
questions if there is any more in this lifetime or the next

Moonbeams shower illustrious glory
a worried mind with hopes for tomorrow
soaks in the rays, feels the loving arms
of those gone before,
soothing lullabies for an ancient generation
raise laughter to the sky

Through thick and thin
disaster and delight
she takes the moon to be her partner,
her loving mistress of the night
who fuels her warrior spirit
and fills her with the courage to face each day
to know and recognize
that the pounding,  fleshy organ in her chest
brings life not from its incessant beating
but from its unending capacity
to hold us all within its crimson chamber

©SpiritLed 2014


Weekend Getaway

Scared, not sure of safety

Knots in her chest of wanting to know if this was okay

Taking deep breaths because she had known him what seemed like her whole life.

Excitement filled her mind when he pulled up and all fear left her mind because protection kicked right in. Have someone treat you the same was the gift that was priceless

Nice weekend, nice adventure and a smile she hasn’t had in years was all worth it to have the love of your life just for new memories.

Yesterday


Lakshmi’s Hope

Lakshmi

Lakshmi’s outstretched arms
promise wealth, love, liberation,
and the life that brings great meaning

This hope, engendered from the core of
ancient connection, gives rise to
swirling rooftop fantasies
that four arms provide a proper parachute,
a prescription against aspiration landing –
splat
on the concrete below

©SpiritLed 2014


Nana with Rose Petal Tears

2014-04-09 07.42.25

Rose petals, like teardrops,
fall softly to my kitchen counter,
surround the vase where the wilted flowers
droop their heads in reverence to the
stooping, plucking, pruning

of Nana tending to her roses
crouching in her gardening shorts,
as I play in the field behind her house,
searching for rabbits’ nests and pulling out
my dollhouse to set up in the quiet patio shade,

of Nana sweet and fragrant as the roses
that she tended, bare legs exposed, a rebel
of a time when women wore only skirts and hosiery,
bustling about in her slippers and shorts,
cultivating an escape from everyday life

of Nana’s hair, soft between my fingertips,
like rose petals, as she lies in bed, life gradually
slipping through grasping hands, ice chips, greeting
cards, and tear-soaked tissues encircling roses
on the bedside table

of my Nana who never cried, at least not that I
can remember, but if she had, I know her tears would be
rose petals, cascading between dreams and
backyard memories, sweetly-scented and multi-hued,
formed together into one final bloom

©SpiritLed 2014


7 Comments

The Healing Parts

The healing parts are mighty and wild,
careening through the dark mind,
simultaneously passive and angry,
they take you over, consume your soul.

They hunger for affection, else they grow
a life of their own, they thrive on tenderness,
else they join together to conquer
their demons with your pain.

The healing parts want to survive,
as the soul writhing in the night.
They are displaced and dissociated,
and only love returns them home,
validation of their realness,
so they may quench their fires,
no longer reduce you to ashes from the
inside out.

The healing parts are us,
and we, them. We are the parts
we buried deep so long ago, the voice
silenced and the voice raging, the broken, fragile,
lonely, fearful, hurting, hating parts.  We are healing
and we are real.

©SpiritLed 2014


Just be….

just-be

 

Together for a lifetime
blinded by reality
escaped years of unhappiness
never far from my heart.
when things got bad she tried to turn to you
but just like before it was never the right time
and you were always to busy.
Never knew how precious life was until it was almost taken away
and that lifetime had so much going on he couldn’t make a pit-stop.
Escaping the pain and ended back at the place she never wanted to be
she wasn’t welcomed.
It’s easy to go back to what’s familiar but the problem with that if nothing was ever resolved you’re going to be on that same page where you left off at.
As much as you think this is the person that knows you so well you just need to feel safe and secure and that was the one place but for the first time you felt out-of-place like you were in a world where he made everything yours but it was at the wrong time.
She still tells him everything

He still tells her most things

built it’s not the same
and it’s never going to be a lifetime again
because that page was never discussed, ripped out or re-written
to know if something could be rebuilt.
Always and Forever,
he will always be
just be…….


1 Comment

Thirty-Nine

Today I turn 39.  My last year in my 30’s.  If I had my nearly 4 decades to do over, I’d stay home with my kids, which is a total contradiction because I hated staying at home when they were very young.  Now I’d do it all over again and for longer, just for more time with them.  I’d go to graduate school the first time I had the chance.  I’d go back to that first relationship in high school, and I’d say no to that boy.  Yes, it would change the course of my life, but I’d avoid the pain of losing a friend.  I’d make and keep better connections with friends of my parents and my extended family.  I had no idea how much I would wish I knew them better as I got older.   I’d demand more of myself.  The status quo and self pity would never be in my coping toolbox.  I’d learn about self care early on and make it a priority.  I’d stop myself from picking up terrible interpersonal habits that negatively affect my relationships.  My poor husband really has to deal with a lot of baggage.  I’d let people get close to me, I’d be more vulnerable.  And I’d expect it of other people too.  I’d take back every mean word I ever said to my sister.  Maybe we were just kids, but I’m sure it affected her, and she’s the only sibling I have.  I’d set better boundaries for myself, and I wouldn’t be afraid to say no.  I wouldn’t find a sick comfort in relationships that make me feel bad.  I’d talk to my mom about her illness, I’d share my fears about living a life without her.  I’d snuggle up next to her that night when she asked me to.   I’d understand that in order to feel great joy and compassion, you also, at times, have to allow yourself to feel great pain.  I’d never stop writing.  Or dancing.  Or letting the world know how smart I am.  Or crying.  I’d cry a LOT more.  And I’d pray more.  I’d figure out early what makes me passionate and pursue that.  Or not stop pursuing that.  I’d have a job that I love, that fulfills me, that I can’t wait to get up and do every morning.  I’d force my foot into that Cinderella slipper and never let it fall off my foot.

“Make the most of your regrets; never smother your sorrow, but tend and cherish it till it comes to have a separate and integral interest. To regret deeply is to live afresh.”

~Henry David Thoreau

Happy 39.  It’s going to be a great year.

©SpiritLed 2014


With Tears

“Tears” by Jonathan McCallum

Seventy?

Tears pool, brim and flow onto hands that grasped liquid sweet moments.

Memories frozen into brilliant waterfall within.

Towards my soul’s canyon, your light pours in, revealing precious faces, kind eyes, little hands briefly held.

Traveling through childhood’s mist, middle life forest to foggy old age to reveal a distant eternal land.

With tears. Just seventy years?

Poem by Jonathan McCallum @peoplepoesia


Say you love me (Prose)

797da7db86a5627d80208edad4b04e05
as for words sometimes spoken
that make us think
why others speak them, take
three syllables
we long to hear, sealing anxious
weeks or months after we ceased
being a singular I

the anticipation of who will
speak first, should I, should they

I love you
why, I ask what makes you love me
because I’m kindhearted
smile at strangers, a good hostess
in and out of bed, love all creatures
great and small, or perhaps my humour
that can turn your furrowed brow
into whipped cream smoothness

Is it any of these things or these and more
we wait, it’s said, what we started
pure and raw, now concreted with three simple words
and it’s not perhaps till time has passed

when we have grown old together
we look back and it wasn’t about who spoke first
that we see love for what it is
the importance of why it was said
no longer just syllables

©jmtacken Feb 2014


Tommy and Faye (Prose)

img_0511
ocean coloured eyes, auburn curled hair
nestling on her shoulders, stuck with him
the restaurant, crushed napkin folded
kept safe in his worn wallet

her phone number
scribbled in ink, bled from his
sweaty palms over weeks
yet he hadn’t dialed her number

small town, back woods, trying
the best she could, to get out
leave the trailer park, an inner strength
held behind her cerulean eyes

words spoken of her existence
showed determination, he felt weak
amidst her charms, her softness
his a different pain to hers

the napkin dropped near his plate
alongside remnants of mashed potato
beans and meat, he stared at it a while
did she find him attractive

then left, closing the door to her world
to begin again with his, yet
she kept dragging him back, without
a word between them

just this napkin, he couldn’t throw away
she wanted out, she told him so
was he her meal ticket to a better life
to get somewhere, was this his doubt

and then he threw her number away
‘coz he knew he didn’t have the courage
to find out, the risk of being hurt again
to try and make it work

until one summer’s afternoon
when she played so badly on his mind
like a sweet violin
he made a sign

nailed it to the pole
in the street where she worked
and he waited near by
waited and watched for Faye to see

how much she meant to him
how proud he was of her
and how, with lives so different
they were meant to be

©jmtacken Feb 2014


Moment

 

161

Intrigued

Captivated

by the stillness

and how  the echo sounds

when you scream to the top of your lungs

to release the rage

to release the pain

to release silence

and when you are done

you can take a breath

and lay on the side of paradise

feeling the water touch your flesh

and  just for a moment it can be picture perfect


1 Comment

The Last Walk

DSCN1835Walking on the island shore at night always held a fascination for me, especially with my young teen. We would walk along, watching as the lights on shore glimmered off the amazing expanse of water all around is. It was one of those moments that needed no words, the feelings, the magic, spoke for itself.

He reached down and picked up something, turned to me, held it up and smiled. It was a whole conch con, shimmering in the starlight. Wow! I said, as we walked on. I will never forget that night. It is burnt into my soul. A tear runs down my cheek even now. It was the last night we ever spent on the beach together.


3 Comments

Glass

Three years ago, I lost my mom.

She had been fading for years, but we still talked,

we laughed and loved.

 

It seems like since then loss and loneliness

have been so much of my life.

I feel like I am drowning.

 

After loosing my child, hope, faith,

and that special closeness with my family,

I feel I will never capture the joy in life again.

 

I can only beg you, young people,

to take that joy, when you find it,

and treat it as thought it was glass, because it is.


1 Comment

Break the Silence While You Can………………

A Hospice room Times upA Hospice Room just vacated. The tick tok of the wall clock, the labored breathing through the night came to a sudden, gasp, shudder and then stillness. Then you might wish you would have said…………………   Say it now!

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