Whilst Sighing

The sun – becomes, above Earth,
Day begins, continues, ends –
As the black of night zips
Over what was, is, can be.
The unchosen, never free,
Caught in fertile beds of futility
Given fulgurant gifts all gladly
Forsaken for opportune normality.
The pain of difference assures
No one, not even those beloved,
Who try, can abide the dysfunction
In every shared moment, evinced.
The production frequent as dandelions
May appear effulgent and glistering,
Yet within mortality harbor shades
Of night, fervent prayer to be light.
They go, they go, whomever, no one
To claim, left desolate, alone –
A song echoes, a melody, tender,
Raising harmonies of incongruous hope.
As blood still flows and thought goes
There is, in essence, no doubt, no dying
Of reason, no treason fomented, to
Dispel the willing drive, Never Give Up!

It is Christmas Eve; I feel more like A Christmas Carol than Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. I hope the sum of your joy is more significant than my own.

I have an older friend struggling in a fight against Covid. If you would, say a prayer or send a thought for him.

Thank you for visiting Haphazard Creative. I hope you found things to your liking. You may follow the site or come again as you may.

As a prompt, create something that shows the depth of your being, then finish with the direct opposite. You may achieve this in any media you aspire to use.

Christmas Eve has always been my celebration of the holiday. I was the kid who would not sleep waiting on presents under the tree. So I am trying to find a little heart and soul.

Trying The Drabble

Time is fundamental. It may be said, “Time governs the world, and especially the fortunes of humankind.”

However, time is a radical thing, capricious and mutable. It might propose futures bright and pleasurable but may deliver obstacles multifariously.

When Allen sat down on the floor of the house he had lived in for three years, he tried to sort out the confusion that plagued him. The moments sped as tears fell. The future, always held within his command, now came undone and became unknown. Depression took a shot at his psyche. Time, he knew, could be made, melded, or overcome.

A drabble is a story of 100 words. The above text is my first try. Generally, my stories are more verbose. Probably, I should take this further, but maybe or not. I have been reading short stories to acquaint myself with the form better.

As a prompt, write a drabble. If you like, toss me a link, and I will check it out.

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Cultivating Needs

Come now, please enter
The corridor streaming to
A future unknown
But welcoming, becoming
A notable destination.
Take a step leaving
Fear, mediocrity far
Behind so living
Suddenly transforms into
Lovely creativity.
All guesses, thoughts, knowns
Are but reflections cast on
Screens of dreams that seem
In their happening, transports
To realms hidden beyond mists.
Getting where wishes
Occur in truth that passes
Through hearts of loving,
A discovering of each
Wonder made unmatchable.
Instruments play songs
Of personal power made strong
Enough to alter
The fabric of what is real
Bringing miracles to light.
People are the keys
The beating hearts, searching minds
Manifesting bright
Hopeful marvels beautiful
In happening – to extreme.

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As a prompt, create something that hints at but does not use personal pronouns or proper nouns, but gets that message out prominently.

Five Tanka

Voices now missing,
Faces unseen, we cannot
Recover the lost
But memories linger beyond
The pain suffered every day.

New love a blessing
Washing over vacancies
Erasing injuries
Taken in other places
Times no longer tightly grasped.

There are songs able
To dump us in a swamp full
Of scalding teardrops
Which might completely drown us
Did others ignore our need.

Did you see angels
As the faces of loved ones
Appeared in your dreams?
Those given to enrich lives
Are Heaven’s agents disguised.

Why now agonize
Over tomorrow’s dark storms?
God goes before us
Smoothing the pathways we walk
So worries do not exist.

Thank you for visiting Haphazard Creative. Your comments on the site are always welcome. If you enjoyed your stay, please follow my work, or come back often.

As a prompt, try your hand at writing some tanka. The form is five lines with syllable counts: 5-7-5-7-7. I often stack them for longer poems. Tanka are a simple form, short enough to allow a quick bit of work, but long enough to convey complex meaning.

Deep Notes

Death is a vigil
Kept leaning over every
Moment, a salient shadow
Stealing who is, who might be.
Life is the energy, activity,
Driving, growing, making,
Unfolding all treasure
Of experience and being.
Love is the music
Arising in the souls ready
To dance the hopeful steps
Of long-awaited romance.
Hands held, kisses longing,
Filling, gentle remembering,
Holding the tenderness
Of memories keenly made.
Take advantage of the times –
For they swiftly disappear,
The aching pain of absence,
What is lost and cannot
Be at any cost retrieved,
Over the passage
Evaporated years, opportunities
Missed, turned aside in life;
Finally, it sears the heart.
Grief is a cruel thief.

The way this evolved was unique. I was reading a short story in which a character was sitting at a dying relative’s bedside. The line, “Grief is a thief,” came to me. It resonated with me. So the poem began with death and worked round and about to the line with which I ended.

I did a small portion of it in my journal. I left for several hours and came home to type it in. As often happens, much of it changed in the process. I hope you enjoyed it, even with the darker notes.

Thank you for visiting Haphazard Creative; please follow the site, or return often.

At this point, I am considering whether to continue my vow to post every day into 2021. Some days I am quite mystified over what I will write. 2020 has been very productive. There was even a month I posted 75 times. This is not my first engagement of this sort. If you visit my Chronicles site, you will see what I mean.

As a prompt, I challenge you to evaluate your creative life and see if posting every day of 2021 might move you to be more productive. If not every day, more than you currently do, would be an improvement.