Category Archives: dreams

Through loving eyes – Trifecta Challenge

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My memory is vivid.  Her eyes moved evasively across our dirt-smeared faces and scanned our meager outfits.  Disapprovingly, those eyes formulated an opinion before we even had a chance to speak.  One by one she would pluck us from the line and dismiss us like we were disposable.  The torture of being an orphan was enough of a burden for a child, but living with the knowledge that each of us was special was even worse.  Not one of the couples who came to see us would spend the time to engage us in life, to let our unique qualities shine through the filth that we were subjected to each day.  I vowed to myself that, if I survived this Hell, my life would be about substance and not an outward facade.

The path I followed was no surprise to me.  The girls who live in my child care facility today feel empowered.  They are not concerned with their appearance as much as they are focused on the woman they wish to one day become.  I took my hopelessness and gave them hope.  I took my loneliness and gave them a loving home.  And I took my experience and gave them a chance to see themselves through their own eyes and not the eyes of a stranger.

~~

Written for the Trifecta Weekly challenge:

PLUCK: (transitive verb) 1: to pull or pick off or out 2 a : to remove something (as hairs) from by or as if by plucking    b : rob, fleece 3: to move, remove, or separate forcibly or abruptly 4 a : to pick, pull, or grasp at    b : to play by sounding the strings with the fingers or a pick

Remember: • Your response must be between 33 and 333 words. • You must use the 3rd definition of the given word in your post. • The word itself needs to be included in your response. • You may not use a variation of the word; it needs to be exactly as stated above. • Only one entry per writer. • If your post doesn’t meet our requirements, please leave your link in the comments section, not in the linkz. • Trifecta is open to everyone. – See more at: http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/#sthash.YS9z9fyZ.dpuf

The Quest for Love

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I wish, oh, I wish

that I could open up your heart.

I want to get to know you

but that’s the hardest part.

I know you from the outside,

your voice I recognize.

But the real you I’m looking for

is always in disguise.

Sometimes looking into your eyes

I can read what’s on your mind.

But then you turn and look away,

afraid of what I’ll find.

I want to know what makes you tick,

what makes you run away.

I’d like to understand you,

there just seems no easy way.

If I could find a way beyond the wall

I know you’re waiting there.

Searching just like I am.

The quest for love is never fair.

Through the eyes of a legend – Trifecta Challenge

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The classified ad was very succinct.  It didn’t use the word employee, it specifically used the word companion.  I wasn’t in the position to be picky about my job prospects or possible accommodation so I made the call.

I rang the bell and could hear the shuffling beyond the door frame.  It took her several minutes to reach the entrance and when the door swung open I was shocked by the state of her physical being.  She stood all of four feet tall, hunched and emaciated, and her skin could pass for a road map.  An oxygen tank hung haphazardly from a metal pole and she spun the wheels around to move it out of my path so I could enter the house.

Unsure of what I was about to face, I stepped across the threshold and closed the door.   The house was warm and smelled of cinnamon – nothing at all what I expected.  The walls were adorned with black and white photos and an old phonograph was scratching out “In The Mood” by Glenn Miller.  Her demeanor was welcoming and she ushered me into the living room where the smiling faces of Clark Gable, Fred Astaire, Ginger Rogers and Joan Crawford watched as I took my place on the settee.  I felt like I had gone back in time.

The service required of me was simple.  I was to transcribe her life as an understudy in the 1930’s and make sure the world read her story and, not only knew her but, remembered her.

skinny-wrinkles-1

The official age on her death certificate was 106 years.  She had lived over a century and only through her words did I understand the vast world she had seen change over her lifetime.  As I write this preface to her story, I am reminded of her spirit and her failure to relinquish her dream of fame.  It came too late but she finally got her wish.

~

Word count -323.  Image Credit – health.howstuffworks.com

Written for the Trifecta Challenge:  On to the weekly prompt.

1:  one that accompanies another :  comrade, associate; also:  one that keeps company with another
2obsolete :  rascal
Remember:
• Your response must be between 33 and 333 words.
• You must use the 3rd definition of the given word in your post.
• The word itself needs to be included in your response.
• You may not use a variation of the word; it needs to be exactly as stated above.
• Only one entry per writer.
• If your post doesn’t meet our requirements, please leave your link in the comments section, not in the linkz.
• Trifecta is open to everyone.

– See more at: http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/#sthash.bNnsoN4o.dpuf

Her First Mistake – 100 Word Song

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Her first mistake was letting herself get too close.  She felt the attraction immediately and tried her best to erase him from her mind.  His voice echoed in the recesses of her yearning.  The stare from his blue eyes branded his gaze into her brain.

She felt his touch as the wind tickled her skin and her cheeks flushed at the memory of his warm hands grazing her arms.

The fire within her slowly burned.  The mere thought of his lips on hers would ignite the inferno.  Perhaps the first mistake was not finding him sooner.  Fate is fickle, indeed.

~~

Written for the 100 Word Song Challenge over at My Blog Can Beat Up Your Blog – Leeroy reached out to Jen aka @jenkehl aka www.jenkehl.com home of Twisted Mixtape Tuesday and my co-conspirator at www.raisedontheradio.com . She chose the great Lyle Lovett’s Her First mistake for this week’s 100 word song. It comes from the album The Road To Ensenada which won the 1996 Grammy Award for Best Country Album. That means it beat out some tripe from Tim McGraw or Garth Brooks or Brooks and Dunn so I already applaud the choice.

A Christmas Present for myself

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I have reached an age that family, friends and I agree that spending a lot of money on each other at Christmas is no longer necessary.  The true spirit of the approaching holiday is about spending time together and not reaching too far into that budget to pay money for things that we don’t need.  We have adhered to that rule and the only money that exits my bank account over the festive season is for my nephews.

This year I blurred the lines a little and bought myself a gift.  It really has been a while since I splurged on something that may seem frivolous, but something I have wanted for quite some time.  So I opened the purse strings, threw caution to the wind and pressed that magical button on my computer screen.  What happened afterwards reminded me of how I felt as a child when I got that gift I had put at the top of my list for Santa.  In less than a month, I will be sitting 10 rows back from the stage to see The Tenors perform live.

music-notes

(image credit: composersinredsneakers.org)

If you are familiar with my blog, you will know how deeply I care about music.  I have eclectic tastes when it comes to my collection of tunes, but I am always drawn back to these voices.  The song they are singing in that video was co-written by my dear friend Kenny Munshaw, another very talented artist and songwriter, and the song was written to raise money for the Big Brothers / Big Sisters organization.  If you care to purchase the song on iTunes, fifty cents from each download goes directly to the organization.

The cost of this ticket in regards to my budget made me second guess my decision, but only for a fleeting moment.  I was made painfully aware today how short life can be by hearing of tragedies befalling a few families I know.  This is an opportunity that I don’t want to regret by not taking.  I may even get a chance to make it backstage after the show to meet Remi, Clifton, Fraser and Victor (and Darryn Neville!) and that will be the gift that will keep on giving.

Santa, you can scratch me off whatever list you had me on…..this year I got everything I wanted!

Requesting a favor

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Hello to all of my blogging, Facebook and Twitter friends.  I am appealing to you for a bit of help.  I have started a new blog for Shamrock Lodge (my new job) and would love and appreciate it if you could check it out and follow if you could.  The more exposure we get, the longer I get to keep my job.  😉

Here is a picture of where I get to go every day to work, and below is the link to the new blog site.

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Shamrock Lodge

The French Maid Connection – TrifeXXXtra Challenge

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She could hear movement inside the cabin and, before she could change her mind, she knocked.  The portal opened and they stood face to face.  Although somewhat shocked, he seemed happy to see her.  For a moment nothing was said.  He simply moved out of the entrance.  As she stepped onto the threshold he caught a glimpse of fish net stockings and smiled as he closed the door behind her.

They stood, no words passed between them.  Their eyes remained locked, a gaze of unspoken feelings, and it was he who made the first move.  He casually closed the distance between them and untied the belt of her overcoat.  With trembling fingers he undid the buttons, slowly and deliberately, never wavering from her stare.  Running his hands down either side of the coat he gradually pulled the shroud from her shoulders and his breath caught audibly in his throat.

He was staring intently taking in the black laced bodice, white apron and collar and he could not contain his smile.  She smiled back demurely and bit her lower lip. He leaned over and his lips swept across her mouth.  Her skin reacted to his touch and her cheeks were ablaze with blush.

The desire in his eyes made her melt and his blue eyes bore into her.  His hands gently cupped the sides of her breasts and traveled up to hold her face.  He pulled her closer and, for the first time, their lips met.  The kiss began sweetly, mouths tentatively meeting for the first time, their tongues apprehensively touching but, as the intensity increased, the urgency became overwhelming.

She pulled away first, panting, trying to catch her breath.  He leaned over and once again their lips met, but this time was much more tender and affectionate.  The slow burn of yearning finally erupted and bodies became cloaked under a blanket of heat.  She moved with him in a rhythm she had never known before.

The music of love was written that night.

~~

My 333 words written for the TrifeXXXtra challenge: And now on to a completely different type of prompt. As you may or may not know, November 15 is National Erotica Day.  Trifecta is not an erotica-specific type of place, but we never shy away from a chance to stretch our creative limbs, and we hope you’ll join us as we dive in to celebrate this quirky day. We are asking for an open write this weekend–33 to 333 words of erotic writing.  No specific words need to be used, and we aren’t necessarily banning any either.

The nocturnal time-bomb

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Last night I had a nightmare.  I have no recollection of the horror at all but I awoke in the wee hours of the morning and I was sobbing, full on heaving sobs, and tears were streaming down my face.  I can honestly say I’m relieved that I don’t remember the theme of the night terror that I survived. Naturally, it got me thinking about nightmares and why they occur.

Nightmares are simply a combination of our history of events and many of those nightmares are caused by the stress of those same calamities.  Whether we realize it or not, we may be dealing with some issues that take hold of our subconscious and wreak havoc in our dream world.  We may not even comprehend that we are holding onto so much of what happened in our day, or our week, but it builds up like a brick wall that crumbles in our sleep and the shrapnel plummets into our waking moments.

Stress is fickle creature.  It can inhabit our daily life as much as it creeps into the blissful hours that should be our time to recharge.   When I went to bed, I carried with me each particle of energy-draining angst that I had accumulated throughout my day and the stress of what has been happening with my home.  Nightmares and dreams paint a picture of what is happening in our life.  Whether that portrait is drenched in vibrant colors or tarnished with mottled shades of black and grey, the visions in our sleep depict our mood and illustrate the tension we are storing in your body.

I am in awe of the seemingly limitless catastrophes that a human body can endure and process.  Any type of mental anguish it represses during the day will certainly appear in our unconscious state giving us signs that we are walking on a ledge.

We need to find a way to clear our negative energy before the weight of our day begins to pull down the blankets of our eyelids.  We will at least have a fighting chance of supplying the artist in our sleep with a pallet of spirited rich colors instead of the monochromatic, threatening spatters of charcoal and black.  If we can free our head of that ticking time bomb called stress, we can reclaim our restful night of unadulterated sleep.

Journey back to me

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It was a collaboration week for me last week and this time I put some words together with TwinDaddy from Stuphblog.  I’m sure you all know him and if you don’t, you are missing out!!  Take a few minutes to check out his diversity and genuine talent.  Here is what we came up with.

Journey back to me

I put you up there

not knowing that you would fall.

The pulse of the rain matched my heart beat

as I watched you tumble from that pedestal I put you on.

When our love ended, you had further to fall.

 My illusion of you faded.

Your ruse succumbed to reality

as softly as a leaf falls from its tree.

That pedestal floated gently to the ground

when at last you unveiled your true self.

Although my heart was shattered,

it was easier for me to pick up the discarded pieces.

I recognized those parts of myself that I lost,

eviscerated pieces of my soul that you took.

I could finally begin to rebuild the person I was.

Piece by piece, brick by brick,

a new masterpiece painfully crafted.

A new me, a stronger me

able to withstand torrential emotions,

lithe enough to dodge abusive traps.

Your journey was a plunge to the death of the disguise.

My path was a quest to rebuild what was taken.

I emerge stronger, my scars will heal.

I take back what was rightfully mine.

I put myself up on that pedestal.

pedestal

Cherish love – WordCloud Wednesday

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Another fun challenge at We poets show it – If you want to take the WordCloud Challenge – use only the words in the WordCloud Picture to create your masterpiece. Post your work either as a comment or if you write it on your blog feel free to post the link as a comment.

word cloud

Cherish Love

Painful past moments hold time,

loosely script tomorrow, uncertain.

Colorful future dreams includes hues,

decorated, knowing love.

Cherish tomorrow,

 hold dreams knowing tomorrow includes painful moments,

includes uncertain future, includes love.

Ponder dreams,

soul knowing script.

Cherish tomorrow.

Cherish love.