Posted in Fiction & Poetry

The Sage

 

My poor old feet were younger then

I remember when

Platform shoes were all the rage

With jeans with dresses

That’s all you wore

For 8 hours as a clerk in a department store

But fashionable I was going to be

Hell or high water

My poor old feet and me

 

I remember how the balls felt

I limped when no one saw

Calf muscles joined in stretching aches, pointed toes

To kick them off what a blessing

I feel it to this day that relief from pain

What crazy thinking yet I wouldn’t sway

I had my way and that’s how it would be

No suffering too great in the fashion industry

For my poor old feet and me

 

Working at a bank, Corporate Teller, here, here

Fancy title at least there I could hide

I slid out of my heels behind the counter

Where no one could detect out of sight

Should I walk to the vault back on they went

One woman asked how I did it all day

To be able to stand walking with such grace

I confessed I did not leave them on

Watch now as I return I’m shorter you see, naturally

 

Loving my secret she knowingly smiled

Noticeably I stood lower to the ground

So you see it’s possible then

To exercise some sense as one moves on in years

To learn a few tricks and be comfortable while looking chic

Take practical steps

Pun if you will

Be a good friend when you can to your poor old feet

That’s the trick

 

 

Posted in Books & Stories, Flashes

Once Upon

 

 

Once upon a time there was a single mom and her son. Every day they’d go out for walks together. Though most times they’d stop at friends’ one day they decided to take a longer walk around the lake. This led to excursions down side roads taking them away from the lake into lush, peacefully silent wooded areas. They found a dirt road and as they followed along came upon a small cemetery of unusually ornate, old headstones. One seemed to call to her. Unimpressed the boy wanted to keep going.

“But my poor old feet” mom said. “Let’s rest here and have a picnic.”

 

 

100wcgu-7

 

https://jfb57.wordpress.com/2015/05/25/100-word-challenge-for-grown-ups-week153-2/

 

100 Word Challenge for Grown Ups – Week#153

 

The prompt this week is:

 “…but my poor old feet…”

 

 

Posted in Flashes

That Greek Story

 

           “She closed the book, placed it on the table and finally decided to walk through the door.”

 

That was the prompt. The thing was what to do with it. Should it be a dirge, delicious, possibly a potential fatal attraction? Maybe the absurd…

 

“Forgetting there was no back deck because of remodeling, she unlocked the door and stepped through unfinished slats falling face first in the mud, kissing the corner of a rock with the side of her head. Stars flashed bright white. She came-to from a gentle nudge… nudge… nudge, “hey… hey… hello there… hey”. Leaning over her was a T-Rex with long arms; or that’s what she thought she saw. He smiled with a lot of teeth too close for comfort that were very white. “I’m your neighbor Cole. Are you ok?” “Huh?” Still a little too stunned by the fall she slurred, “You talk… y-yh-hhh… yhoo tahl… k.” Her eyes rolled back, her body went momentarily limp and she dreamt of falling in and into darkness, like an uncomfortable slumber taking hold. Her body jerked suddenly, eyes opened with a start as she became aware she was on the ground staring up at a t-shirt from the local museum with a smiling T-Rex on the chest.”

 

Made that way for the sake of any kids who might visit. Sensible, they’re extinct – no threat.

 

“The long, very well toned arms holding her were attached to something else, well, someone else. Raising her eyes, her stupor began to clear with the realization they belonged to her neighbor, the very man she’d arranged her lunch schedule around to watch work out in the gym through a picture window facing her office. In fact, most of the building front was glass.”

 

Loved that architectural design. Now she was alert.

 

“Adolescent glee shot through every crevice of her body as she instantly, silently ordained it might just take her a while to get back on her feet; how long could be negotiable or better yet, it wouldn’t be. “Could life get much better than this” sent a thrill through every single facet of her being as he offered to help her get cleaned up and take her to the E.R. if she needed it. He wrapped her arm around his neck as he put his around her back, lifting her up for support, which couldn’t stop her knees from buckling not so much from the fall but from the sheer pleasure of his touch, his smell, being glued against the side of his body, his everything.

Sometime during all this the back door had drifted closed locked. Undaunted he didn’t stumble as she shakily hobbled with him around her house to the front door, which had been left unlocked. Before she could lament the possibility he might have walked her into his otherwise, “Look, I hope you don’t mind, but…” and he gallantly swept her into his arms carrying her inside.

She tingled to the roots of her hair. Her inner Psyche smiled large and she knew now it was going to get good.”

 

Posted in Fiction & Poetry

Strangers

 

 

We met on a train

Both heading toward Greece

She to a small town

Me to Thessaloniki

 

She’d said I’m her first American friend

An historic day

It was 2010

 

So personable, so much promise

I was impressed

With the Engineering student competing

Building robots with her team

So much younger than me but together

We were ageless

 

Around we went

 

To all the favorite student places

You see I’d chosen a place they loved to go

Not that I knew

I didn’t

But I found out the best to enjoy during my stay

Representing very well her home country and me

 

Everyone around the world should be this way

Differences between us all could not exist

They wouldn’t

Later she left for her connecting train

I walked her there

Ciao, Ciao

We’ve kept in touch till this very day

 

Yes, even now

 

I sat at a bistro like other Europeans

New found knowledge abound

A real part of them I am

Next to flower boxes looking across the street

Not the flower boxes looking but me; I’m doing the looking

At the sea

 

 

(There’s a better way to put that I don’t doubt. Maybe later I’ll figure it all out and edit this piece with my audience unawares. Though I told you won’t know when. What fun!)

 

 

On the street cars fly by

Lending a contradiction to the peace I can’t help but feel

Just beyond assorted boats dot the surface, making specs

On the border of the sky

Is that a battleship there, right there, look, straight ahead?

 

Do you see?

 

Interesting thoughts occur that this place knows

So much more than me, and that

Everywhere but my country is prepared for anything

Because of venerable experience

What they’ve been through, I know it would be

 

We’re young yet

 

A few days later at a new favorite café

It’s my turn to spend the moments before I board the train

To marvel one last time

At the unique scenery I will leave behind

 

Macedonian churches in the middle of buildings

Seeming out of place, but they were

Built long before these apartments existed

Before there were a trace, and now

Some look dilapidated, some are tall

Together they make an eccentric horizon

Eclectic taste

As if the streets were an elongated desk and churches

Were paperweights of monstrous size that

Anchor the buildings down; unmovable, strong, keeping leafs

From flying, held in place, tethered against any storm

 

A vision timeless where they belong

As I pull away

That will never leave my mind

In a private compartment I sit

Till the next country I arrive

 

Posted in Flashes, Thought Food

Bakery

 

Relaxing at a genuine bakery with a New York staple buttered roll, she began to, no not began but had to wonder what took her so long to realize it was there. Didn’t she believe it was real? She walked by it, read ‘bakery’ in the name each time. All other local cafés offered sweet junk, gooey iced scones – blasphemies! Of course the cappuccino had too much milk, but what Ruth could taste of the coffee wasn’t so bad. It sure wasn’t New York but she could make do for now.

 

“Wait. The prompt was ‘that’s democracy’ – now what…”

 

 

100wcgu-7

 

The Prompt is: “That’s Democracy”.

 

https://jfb57.wordpress.com/2015/05/11/100-word-challenge-for-grown-ups-week152-2/

 

 

Posted in Books & Stories

Happy Mother’s Day……

A blossomed flower, a spindly edge, hard decisions made unpopular, yet always giving life – I see so much in the photograph you’ve posted. A perfect choice!

SwittersB & Exploring

Truly one of the most powerful forces on Earth and in Heaven…a Mother. Whether they are saint like perfect, flawed, often missing in action, a warrior doing her best…there is little doubt a Mother is a significant force in our lives. Today, I will toast my departed Mom, my Mother-in-law, my wife and all her sisters, who are moms. Enough said….bless the worthy Mothers of the past & present. Thank you!

clematis, garden, Portland, SwittersB

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Posted in Fiction & Poetry

We’ll Meet Again

 

Peace

Not a soul stirs

Except mine

 

No bustle

 

Lapping, boats creak

Far off gull-squeak

Not too many yet

 

Salt in the air

 

I could jump in

How far would I swim?

Into abyss that’d swallow me whole

 

No land in sight

 

Let a whale take me in

Shoot me out its spout

With glee I shriek

 

Till tomorrow, we’ll meet again

 

Whale song it tips out of sight

On crab cage steps

I climb onto the pier

 

Dripping wet

 

See you for dinner tonight

For now here I’ll sit

Feel the breeze blow my hair

 

Shhhh, they sleep yet

 

 

100wcgu-7

 

 

Today’s Prompt:

https://jfb57.wordpress.com/2015/04/29/100-word-challenge-for-grown-ups-week150-2/