From dust we come, to dust return
Yet let the journey between be worthwhile.
What greater legacy can we leave, than to bring a young one smiles.
Written for the photo prompt of Week 251 of Three Line Tales
The Journey
Inverted Balance
Pale moonlight blankets turmoil land
Scavengers watch carnage below
Disturbia
*****
Written for Three Line Tales 249
Alone
Ah, the lights that dazzle pretty and bright
And such beautiful people in my sight
Yet no one beside me to set my heart alight
Written for Sonya’s Three Line Tales 248
Barbed Wire
Like barbed wires…
they come between you and that of which you dream.
You may not mount and ride, nor be one with stallion and wind;
Yet you can’t but reach for that one tantalizing touch of what could be.
In response to Three Line Tales 247
Scattered
I lie scattered,
like an old toy that has been used, abused and outlived its value.
My kohl-sodden tears etch the tumultuous journey of my life across my withered face.
Somewhere in the recess of my foggy mind the wail of a siren gets louder.
*****
In response to Three Line Tales 246
Purpose
Long
purposeful strides leading somewhere…
A somewhere that could very well be nowhere…
Yet even a purpose to nowhere is better than no purpose at all.
Written for Week 245 of Three Line Tales
Dearest Oblivion
Hand in hand we walk down the archway of love
Green grass below, blue sky above
While thorns rip through my trailing veil
Flare the Talk
There is only so long that the high of adulation can neutralize the dishonour of living a lie.
In this world of hypocrisy and bigotry this quixotic display was career suicide.
But if having the world watch would reenergise the conversation, then so be it.
_________________________________
Cross-Road
“Be a man and shoot,” hissed the cold grey eyes.
“Be human,” pleaded the soft brown eyes.
But what is being human?… that was the question…
In response to Three Line Tales#242
When waters flow
“It’s supposed to be our honeymoon. You wanted a romantic place. You wanted a surprise. I’m not asking you to swim, just walk across a few bridges.”
The brochure he waved before my face did nothing to reduce my panic or dislodge my frozen feet.
Somehow my desperate shaky hands managed to open Google and type “Potamophobia.”
In response to Week 241 of Three Line Tales.
Photo by Sam Mouat via Unsplash
Note: Potamophobia is the irrational fear of rivers or running water. Suddenly I wondered ‘what if a Venetian actually feared water?’ and thus sprang this tale.
