First, a little Emily Dear March—Come in—(1320) Dear March—Come in— How glad I am— I hoped for you before— Put down your Hat— You must have walked—How out of Breath you are— Dear March, how…
The little girl went through the motions of preparing and pouring the steaming hot-tea into dainty cups that sat atop matching saucers, she sweetened with condensed milk, and began a conversation with her dolls. (also, self-promo)
About that beautiful red flower that looks like a bottlebrush... or, perhaps you like to call it a Kangaroo paw? Lovely!
Hiraeth -- a word from the Welsh language, was the theme of the challenge I participated in. Mine is creative non-fiction from one of my many times visiting my grandparents: Nostalgia.
From every corner of the world, our news hunters have reported that people are waking up to excited retellings of a one-of-a-kind occurrence. And now the world is changed. Breaking News.
For many years, I lived a safe and tethered life-- loving my creator and the world, until I was introduced to my first philosophy class. Little by little, I started to feel smarter than the creator of all things; so smart that I started to question and test my God. What kind of God -lets children starve? -lets people get sick and die? -lets bad things happen to good people? The innocent faith of the child that lived in me was confronted with questions too large. My God-fearing parents prayed for me. And then, I wrote God a Dear John letter.
The Prompt: write a poem that takes the form of the opening scene of the movie of your life. Wow, a first for me! What fun. I hope you enjoy it.
Are you happy? Or are you one who thinks that happiness is yet to come to you? Say, after you achieve such and such a thing? Or perhaps you feel that you are not deserving of happiness? That everyone gets a quota on happiness, and since you already experienced some once, you've already met yours. Or perhaps you feel you need to give up something -- which you're not ready to give up yet -- to get you there? Or, and this is the saddest, perhaps you're clinging on to old beliefs, sabotaging you from getting you to that happy place? Here's the thing, you are deserving of happiness.
Do you know any nobodies? People that manage to whisper the words you feel unfit to speak/write? Let me tell you of one nobody I know. She wrote of universal 'feels' that reflect back at me. Childhood. Please enjoy.
A short prose that resulted from The Book Thief by Markus Zusak I'm reading right now.
Christmas is magic and Christmas is love. Here's a story of how my heart grew a few inches that Christmas a long time ago.