20 Lines A Day

A Community of Writers and Photographers


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Into the Light, Where You Belong

Smell of mold
and musty leaves
raindrops on the windshield
in the still-dark dawn

linger in the depths
of darkness and desire,
where your spirit most
yearns to be free

where the long-held
confinement has rendered you
listless and lifeless

crazy before the eyes of man
yet pure in your creative depth,

where the Wise Woman,
flowing silver hair,
adorned in robes
of lavender

holds open the door
for you and cries,
“Lay down your arms!

Fight no more,
grieve no more,
die no more.

Walk into the Light,
where you belong.”

©SpiritLed 2014


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When Silence Ends

When, as a child, did you play happily
by the stream, and come singing home,
passionately sharing your adventures,
only for the beloveds to tell you, “Quiet!”

And when, in your classes, did you
confidently speak your truth, answer
their questions, paint your construction
paper masterpiece,  and the trusteds told you,
“It’s not good enough.”

And when did you feel the whisper of spirit
in your soul, gently guiding you on your way,
and you shared, and they laughed?

And when did you stop listening, painting, writing, speaking, trusting? 

And when will you decide that the darkness has
lasted too long, that the  passion of a new day
can no longer wait, lest  you tear free from your
own skin where you’ve been confined all these years?

That stumbling across stones and briars,
feet cut and bleeding, is preferable to the safe
and righteous path, where no pain, in fact
nothing at all, makes cuts into your soul?

When will you decide that fear of words
without real meaning will no longer be the
prison walls that demand freedom of the captor?

And when will you stoke the flames, when will you once
again tend to the spark, blow the breath of life into
the still-smoldering ashes, collect the branches and
twigs that have fallen in your path, burn them on
your altar, and fuel the dawning of reclaimed light?

© SpiritLed 2014


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Ghost Hunt

Kate was sure they’d all stopped breathing.

Poppy’s hand crept into hers and stayed.

 

“There’s something here,” Jack whispered. “Listen.”

 

A rushing noise. A distant sea, or the wind, or a thousand souls sighing.

Would they have caught the sound without his instruction?

 

Kate licked her lips, swallowed hard,

Natural scepticism pending.

Jack’s eyes flew open, closed again. So fast, did she imagine it?

He would be enjoying this, delighted to be proved right. Insufferable later.

 

Sound intensified, raised to a whine, a scream – and

A glass on the sideboard shattered.

 

“She’s gone,” Jack said.

Kate felt goose bumps along her spine, “It’s bloody freezing,” and felt Poppy shiver beside her.

“The spirits always have an effect on temperature.” Jack smiled.

 

“OK, you’ve proved your point. Can we go now?” and she turned, expecting to find the door.

 

 


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Alley – A Sestina

apologies for not updating for very long! Lots of projects and schoolwork, but the busiest period hasn’t even arrived yet! Really very sorry for my lack of discipline >< anyway hope you like this! A sestina, on how we all too often lose our way through the treacherous territory of gold and diamonds. Hope you like it, and appreciate the comments!

In the alley, I meet the Spirit
The maiden of the Fair
Night, shrouded in mist.
Claiming lives
From clutches of play
To join her in the fog

I cease to wonder what lies beyond the Fog
Do not dream, says the Spirit
No amount of prayer
Will save you. Life is not fair!
You must fight for your Life -
But wait! I spot something amiss

I walk side by side with her, mystified
Seeing people, chained in fog
Devoid of Life
Serving the spirit with their own
Never seeing daylight that’s so fair
Never seeing the fun and joy of play.

No prayer
Can help those lost in mist
Entrapped in their own fair
world of gold and diamonds and mirrors that fog
Up, haunted by the cold Spirit,
They live, but do not live

Oh, they think their Life
Is meaningful, is wonderful – but pray
tell, what wonder comes of enslavement to the Spirit?
An eternal confinement awaits, tricked by gold’s mystery
And logic denied by a fog
of details and questions, but no answers. They remember not of going to a Fair

Nor experiencing sunset so fair
No – they remember not of their past joy, but of their lives’
Golden shine. They see not the Fog
They speak no prayer
for escape. They see no mystery.
For there is the Spirit.

I emerge from the horrors of the alley, from the Spirit of the Fair Night’s play.
I have not lost my way, my life is guided by the child’s shadow, not hidden by mist
Or fog, but in the light, kindling my fiery spirit.

 

(image credits http://fatherdaughtertalk.blogspot.sg/)


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A Psalm of Joy

Today’s poem was inspired by a prompt from Writing the Sacred: A Palm Inspired Path To Appreciating and Writing Sacred Poetry by Ray McGinnis.

Divine parent-mother and father, human and divine,

I give you thanks with my entire being;

before the sun, moon and stars I declare your praise.

You pull the orphan close feeding her with the eternal milk of your unconditional love.

When I was invisible you saw me in my distress;

even when others refused to look upon me.

Your grace and mercy follow me all of my days,

like twin companions  flanking me on each side during this sojourn we call life.

Who can quantify your ways or figure  out your favor?

With joy I will share my testimony with all who need encouragement along the way.

Your praise will continually be upon my pen as I write of your loving ways.

Your divine love will light my path as I illuminate the darkness for your glory.

                                                                                                                  Photo by Onleilove


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Kinks & Leaks (Fix Them)

My mind, my body, my spirit? A little patching, pulling the kinks out, repairs and life goes on. After all the intent, in the photograph, is to provide nurturing to living things (plants, gardens, pets, family, friends). I will do my part. Will you? (by SwittersB)


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Cathedrals, Storefronts & Tabernacles

This was the second post I wrote in my  Poem A Day Writing Challenge, you can read all the poems to date and futures entries at my blog Wholeness4Love.

Sunday in Harlem. The streets are full as we bustle to get to temples built by man. Pimps hustle a gospel of greed and sacrifice(to their dreams). Prophets preaching truth & justice go unheeded by the masses. A cathedral is built by money, a storefront is built by courage but a tabernacle is built by the hammering of silence to house your inner spirit and you are its’ only architect.


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Wildfire

remember those days

when you were a kid

not caring about gobbling up

5 candy bars

all at once

or eating a whole bag of Doritos

before dinner?

it was that wanton “gall of it all”

that carefree “live in the moment”

attitude that you long for again

children are the essence of life

the ones that adults admire most

they represent freedom

freedom of spirit

freedom of movement

freedom of the soul

to exist as fluid as a river

and as blazing as a wildfire

always

remember those days.

© [Jeanette Shihadeh] and [thepainterspalate.wordpress.com], [2012]. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material, artwork, or photo’s without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to [Jeanette Shihadeh] and [thepainterspalate.wordpress.com] with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.


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How April Fool’s Day Got Me A Verbal Warning At Work

In honor of it being April Fools Day, I will tell you about one of the practical jokes I played one year.

I worked in an accounting department for a really large oil company, along with almost 30

Keyboard V

Keyboard V (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

other people. We’d recently merged with another company..or was taken over..depended on how you looked at it, and spirits were pretty low as people wondered just how secure their jobs were.

Being a person who enjoys practical jokes, I laid awake half the night trying to figure out a good practical joke to make people laugh, but something that wouldn’t get me in trouble..like before. Yeah. That’s a post for a different day.

Finally, in the middle of the night, I got up to scope the internet to see if I could come up with something. I sat down at the computer…and something was off. I couldn’t put my finger on it…Ah, the keyboard was missing. My cat had knocked it to the side of the desk, and in the dark, I hadn’t seen it. I laughed because it took me a minute or two to figure it out.

The next morning, I went to work TWO hours early, and disconnected every single keyboard in the department and hid them in their file cabinets. All except mine of course. As people trickled in, I sat innocently at my desk typing away. (Trying not to laugh….)

As people noticed, they started chuckling, and then watching as other people came in, to see their reactions. Of course, they knew right away who had done this, because I can’t keep from laughing to save my butt! By the time everyone had been pranked, the atmosphere felt a lot lighter.

And I only got a verbal warning for wasting company time… Win / Win.

Happy April Fools Day!

-Bird

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