daily/weekly prompts

some writing prompt links

- word of the day / another word a day / and yet another word

- John Timmons daily video (100 days project)

- kodak picture of the day / astronomy picture of the day / wiki picture of the day

- idiom of the week

- creative writing prompts / prompt generator

Excuses

Take-up on the afterburn,
its life lights like a hot air
balloon, moth rose curtain
and all this pent up rebellion
comes seeping out into the
open, and Reverend River
and I hop on the Gnarley
and speed past the crater
gates, out into the desert sun.

Wicked, how you danced for
him, and you had even forgotten
your name, shushed me once and
told me not to place blame and
shame and fame all in the same
envelope. It's nothing, just a
present, she whispers, let it
get a bit more momentum and
watch him spin and spin and spin
as if his life depended on it.

"It does, doesn't it?" I ask,
unaware that he is watching
us, maneuvering toward that
open road, without the lights
on.

Pretty soon he's gonna come
for you baby, and then what
plan will you throw in his path
to steer him clear of the mirror
in your eyes? Generous times
for a selfish little rabbit, naked
and hollow and wandering out,

the rattlesnakes are hungry and
we're close enough to know if
the heat's going to give us away
and wreck this train ride to that
opposite shore, full of longing.

River scoops me up, smiling
because she melted a ways back
all silver glisten on the desert floor
and no mountains left in our path
to slow those winds of restless
tendencies. He knows where I
left my keys but he's skilled in
lock-picking, there's no worry
he carries anymore, and those
regrets I so oft mentioned, well,

"there's no room for luggage luxuries
on this little trip, my dear, so cast off,"
and we do. And we do. So should you.


(copyright 2007 - Sheila Lynne)

butterfly

my arms folded, i move my body
to the left, to the right
as far as i can reach

you don't breathe into
the dephts of your being
my teacher states gently

then asks a simple,
yet intricate question -
since when is that?

i open my arms
and feel like a butterfly
for a second

i was the tallest in class
i answer, drawing my
shoulders in to explain

the ways we make
our selfs small,
my teacher says,

softly, like the wind
she tries to make us feel,
inside of us.

~

Ghost

The whisper of a silent snowfall
drifting and cascading through
memory -
The hush of a clear blue vacant
sky -
The lakeshore on a moonless, star-filled
midnight -
The still waters encircling the
solitude -
The soft sway of moss laden
branches -
Rocking gently the moments of
calm -
The small painted bunting, watching
waiting -
For the drop of seeds,
studying
The care with which they are placed
on the ground -

I am here.

I am alone.

So it should be.

This isolation envelopes like a grandmother's
quilt -
Resting within its silent
folds -
Welcoming the quiet warmth and
stillness -
The peace becomes cherished
knowing best
when it is needed most -

On this midnight shore
I am the Silent Ghost

copyright 2007 - Sheila Lynne

the many-layered embrace

On the way to work this morning,
my bike seemed to drift along,
as if it were choosing
the speed and direction,
letting me, like a passenger,
look around and
see the world
in a different way.

There was a crescent moon,
above the quiet streets,
and as I arrived here,
the east glowed ochre
behind the pines.

The inner voice
of the morning.

It brought back the memory
of a recent thought, just a phrase
from a sleepless night:

the many-layered embrace

I think of it as being
enfolded in a lotus, within
layers of petals and sepals.

It is the embrace of life,
of these bodies and our health,
of home and country,
and this beautiful crazy planet.

The embrace
of abundance,
of food and comfort.
of love, our families, our friends.

And we respond,
returning the embrace,
with art, with words, with work,
with concern and care.

With listening to the inner voice
of a place,
of a person,
a moment.
By seeking to attain the source,
connect with the basis.

It is a many layered embrace,
only there is no way
to say it,

And no way
to stop trying
to say it.

a different place

between water and stone
i step into this thought

that a place
at a different time
is a different place

just like the same place
alone / with someone else
is a different place

~

a task for my week:

to step out of the trains
and chains of thought
every once in a while

to walk slower

to listen to the inner voice
of a place, a person,
a moment

to watch
the world news
empathically.
.

In the Rubble of All This

If only the world

would spread itself out smooth before
us flat on a sheet of paper white and
starched for our convenience perhaps
life could be made simple but

there are oceans and skies and people

to cross. There are minds to
change to form to find to make
acceptance the only option left.
Only two words can be found in
the rubble of all this.

.... trust yourself.

shadow fly