So moving, Justin! It 𝙞𝙨 muscle memory…a talent flowing through the blood, taking hold of its roots, climbing the nerves, until, like a breath, it sighs. Perfection.
Of all the stages of my life, this is by far the best. I rest by candlelight, following my breath, wrapped up in silence, but for the ticking of the clock. A wisp of night breeze teases the curtain, my entire past dances by on the delicate wings of fireflies.
Yes, Sharron! It is the essence of you…I can see you, your face framed in firelight. Peaceful, content in your world of words that paint your life, like a sweet dream. So you!
The trickle of water running down a rill, burbling with pleasure. The sight of a cottontail sipping from the stream. The wind whispered through the leaves, clattering gently as they waved in the breeze.
Carly leaned back against the tree feeling the serenity that should be in every daily moment.
He was kneeling, one leg forward and bent in the water, the other pushing off a rock; his arms straight, pushing too; and finally his whole dry foot shot forward over the stern, behind the last seat, leaning his body forward he lifted his wet foot.
I was very happy to read that last sentence. I love the imagery of the man drifting like a specter. It makes him seem a bit menacing, which adds to the surprise ending. Nice job!
Streaks of sunlight through the trees. The only sound, birdsong from the chickadees clustered near the feeder, then the thump-thump-thump of my sleeping dog’s tail as she dreams. A soft scent of pine mingles with the salt breeze from the marsh, ruffling the pages of my spiral notebook. Summer afternoon.
Sacred Space, fiction
He walks toward his destination as if it’s calling him. Maybe it is. Perhaps it’s muscle memory.
The man drifts through the foggy meadow like a specter until the tree stand appears. He climbs—waits.
A fawn trails her mother. They turn. Stare.
He inhales.
Click.
It’s the perfect shot.
(This one’s dedicated to all the hard-working photographers out there. Cheers, John Lightle!)
Love the rug pulling, well done!
Thank you, Scott. Happy you liked it! 😀
Phew! You got me. Nicely done, my friend, nicely done!
Thank you so much, Sharron! I felt the footnote was necessary…didn’t want to scare any friends away! 😄
It did get me for a moment, but I think it worked well at playing with expectations.
Thank you, J.R.Q.! Very much appreciated. 🙏
So moving, Justin! It 𝙞𝙨 muscle memory…a talent flowing through the blood, taking hold of its roots, climbing the nerves, until, like a breath, it sighs. Perfection.
Thank you so much, Sharron. 🙏
Day's end-Free verse
Is serenity more than a moment?
Is it owned, controlled, shaped?
Can we seek it, or does it
Only find us?
The setting sun tells me
The day is over,
Bathing me in twilight.
A busy man like me
Must learn to surrender.
Sometimes, serenity must be
Forced upon me.
There’s a lot of truth to this. Beautifully crafted—I always appreciate your perspective.
Good sentiments
LIFE / TIME, prose poem
Of all the stages of my life, this is by far the best. I rest by candlelight, following my breath, wrapped up in silence, but for the ticking of the clock. A wisp of night breeze teases the curtain, my entire past dances by on the delicate wings of fireflies.
A beautiful and breathtaking poem, Sharron. I love that final line.
Gorgeous, meaningful to anyone especially a reader of a certain age.
ahem.... yes.
Bioluminating flickers.
Times travel
Quicker and quicker.
Yes, Sharron! It is the essence of you…I can see you, your face framed in firelight. Peaceful, content in your world of words that paint your life, like a sweet dream. So you!
Thank you, my sweetheart.
Beautiful...
The first line is wonderful. Of course the other lines a wonderful too.
50 words Prompt "Serenity Hill (Fiction 50)
Woody says, " Serenity Hill's open. You want to go? Check out the fresh country girls?"
" Sure."
Parking lot's filled:, beer bottles between cars. Barn door's wide open, high beams bounce; fireplace mantle GoGo girl's haltered blouse let loose. Band beats, passion-pants. Coed slugs sloe gin. Lantern lit. Time stopped.
Time stopped, but you brought us right back in an instant. Thank you for transporting us, Richard. What a fun story and snapshot.
serenity Hill was Originally a Barn, summer dance hall and now a baptist church.
Very deft painting of mood and scene with a mere half a hundred
And a good time was had by all.... apparently.
Many Maine summers near Naples.
In The Woods (fiction)
The trickle of water running down a rill, burbling with pleasure. The sight of a cottontail sipping from the stream. The wind whispered through the leaves, clattering gently as they waved in the breeze.
Carly leaned back against the tree feeling the serenity that should be in every daily moment.
There is so much truth to your words, Bill. You’ve captured a special moment here. Thanks for joining us by the fire and for sharing your story!
Thank you for the prompt. I look forward to contributing more stories to your prompts.
Out on the Canoe-fiction
He was kneeling, one leg forward and bent in the water, the other pushing off a rock; his arms straight, pushing too; and finally his whole dry foot shot forward over the stern, behind the last seat, leaning his body forward he lifted his wet foot.
“Alright Grandpa, let's fish.”
Just lovely, J.R.Q.! Thank you for sharing with us!
Thank you. I have not participated in one of your' fifties in a little bit. I enjoyed the experience and as always thank you for hosting these.
Oh, of course! My pleasure. I was going to say, it’s been a while! It’s nice seeing you around. I’ve been trying to host them every other week.
This is serenity itself
Awww. Beautiful, JRQ
Thank you.
The Importance Of Reading To The End, fiction
“You know the prayer. ‘Let me accept what I can’t change.’ That’s where you’re at, amigo.”
People always forgot the rest, about being wise enough to identify when something CAN be changed.
Chickie slipped his restraints and flipped Ralph into quiet acceptance.
His death mask looked, dare Chickie say, serene.
Scott, I love your stories. I never have any idea what you’ll come up with. And, I must say, I’m delighted every single time with your creations!
Thank you, it’s quite mutual. This was a challenge at 50.
Thanks my friend! And agreed…it was a challenging one.
Yeeps! I'm not sure that Niebuhr had that kind of change in mind when writing the prayer, but, hey, it does the trick. ha ha ha
Ha yes all I could think of was this or “Serenity Now” from Seinfeld. 😊
Sweet Flight. Fiction -poetry
If the wind is right
And the jump goes well
Soon you’ll be gliding
Upon the swell
Here is when the calm is found
For several minutes
Until you touch down
When all goes perfectly
It's such a sweet flight
That's what they tell me, alright.
Elegantly written, Kim. I’m with Scott on this one!
I’ll stick to reading about it thank you very much!
Yes. Me, too, Kim. Such a lovely interlude here.
Thank you everyone for the kind comments!
I was very happy to read that last sentence. I love the imagery of the man drifting like a specter. It makes him seem a bit menacing, which adds to the surprise ending. Nice job!
Thanks for reading, Andrea! 🙏
Streaks of sunlight through the trees. The only sound, birdsong from the chickadees clustered near the feeder, then the thump-thump-thump of my sleeping dog’s tail as she dreams. A soft scent of pine mingles with the salt breeze from the marsh, ruffling the pages of my spiral notebook. Summer afternoon.