03 April 2021 Saturday Poetry Prompt: say that again?

Photo by Patrick Hendry on Unsplash

For days it looks like nothing is going on, but a single ray of light can make a huge difference, and have a complete metamorphosis. The once young wound, has now large and colourful wings, and three good things happen. The first one is that it cannot grow any further. The second one is more immediate. It can fly far away! And the last one is that it can only live for a few weeks.
“Flying Butterflies” by Joanna Vang

Death, life
pain, pleasure
fear, love
turmoil, peace


Gratitude brought into the present moment

Photo by Lorraine Steriopol on Unsplash

Beneath the window I daily love to look out,
scattered mementos rest in peaceful carefree repose.


24 March 2021 Wednesday Prose Poem: the weight of ink

Photo by Bruno Martins on Unsplash

Words, once heavy, weighted with parchment and the mutterings of an iron pen beneath furrowed brow or typeset letters sculpting a monument of ink and leather, now relegated to invisible virtual reality within the parameters of digital qwerty access, carrying a different sort of weight not established by the physicality of the immemorial balance, wherein edit, erase, delete—repeat times infinity—is now the accepted and understood mode of action; words easily written and easily lost, but not so easily forgotten.


20 March 2021 Saturday Poetry Prompt: out of the way

Photo by Wolfgang Rottmann on Unsplash

I have this drawer — you might know the one—top right side of the desk (maybe yours is bottom left), easy-access, purporting to be useful yet serving no real purpose, craving attention yet I lack the guts or inclination to deal with it.


Wednesday Prose Poem Prompt: what wounds look like as they heal

Photo by Ashley Byrd on Unsplash

Scabs, scars, bruises, calluses — in a perfect world these don’t exist; in this world, however, they are the invariable hallmark of her haphazard healing.


Reminded by breath

Photo by Hannah Busing on Unsplash

Breathing shows me that
I am not alone —
breath is life
breath is a miracle,
and as long as it indwells
my fragile fleshly shell
I am not alone.


POETRY

A letter to my younger self

Photo by Brian McGowan on Unsplash

Dear little girl,

It’s not your fault
your talents were
suppressed, scolded,
snipped at the sign of
the first green shoot.


A poem about journeying toward hope

Photo by Keagan Henman on Unsplash

Sitting here late on a winter night
I’m wondering about fate and things
If a life can pass by unlived, in a blink
If there will ever be peace on earth.

Heather M. Shrum

I love words and ideas. I write thoughtful stories and poems on life. Curious about spirituality, philosophy, history, health, psychology/science, the unknown.

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