Presents – Futures

Days and nights passing,
Dreams of presents, futures thought,
Highly suspect seem,
Because plans can go awry
Leaving us to wonder why.
In the movement of
The breeze the trees sing, their leaves,
Or branches gone bare,
There may be answers among
The voices set boldly free.
Whispers of hope, plans,
Filling space well enough
To guide through turmoil, lead
Into liberty,
Amass the treasure able
To make creation stable.
Longing for some simple sign
Showing one day the design
Imprinted so long ago
Will unleash patterns able,
To help everyone become such
As is wished, all loves may be.

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Yawning Into View

Those are big teeth you have and such a large mouth, my dear Wookie,

The photo I got was not the one I anticipated, but children and dogs tend to make their poses.

Are we not all beset by the desire to change, grow, move? One place is serving us, but it taxes our fortitude as well. Fear falls over us as we confront the unknown, but we must go.

We are the heroes of our stories, and the hero’s tale is a journey. Even when remaining in a particular locale, we journey farther into unknown territory. Age, career, health, home, interests, possessions, pursuits, relationships, and more may be our challenging highways.

Standing still is an impossibility because life will move us, if not immediately, indirectly. We hope that all the knowledge amassed in other times, toils, and trials will equip us for success.

Faith, hope, and love shore us up and allow us to attempt the impossible. The impossible is our goal; it just takes a bit of time.

Thank you for your visit here; you may follow Haphazard Creative if you like. I hope you will return. There is a large volume of material here. You might enjoy exploring. In 2020 I have posted at least once per day.

All comments and suggestions are welcomed and appreciated, so please let me know your opinions.

I hope your days are cheery and full of tenderness.

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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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.

Touch/Go

The fuel rigidly resists
Not responding to flame
Even when applied over again,
Fire cannot burn without catching;
Warmth smothered in neglect.
All can be very urgent,
But set aside without tending –
Heavy darkness grows, overflows;
Stumbling steps have little traction,
Losing what grew, attraction.
Continuing deep in attrition
Burning snuffed – ends the mission –
Nothing left but blown-out matches.