They say there are three personas
A person can make:
The outward, the friendly,
The silent one that fakes.
It’s when we look in the mirror
That we truly find our heart.
Reflecting in our eyes we see,
Painful truth, we try to dart.
Daily Prompt: Solitary
Today was the day my anger unfurled.
It started with a headache,
And then my temper
began to curl.
Little
inconveniences
gathered at my feet,
Usually not a problem,
You know–my words are often so sweet!
Daily Prompt: Unfurl
Rose Gold
Vibrant beauty
Blooming, Growing, Thriving
Girl, Daughter, Reward, Blessing
Smiling, Sparkling, Shimmering
Priceless, Precious
Daughter
This diamante poem was inspired by the shimmering contrasts between pale pink and bold gold. The sentiment is what I wish for both of my daughters, to thrive wherever they are planted, to radiant a genuine beauty from within, to be strong and resilient–able to handle the pressures of life with grace, and to remember they are treasured blessings from above.
Daily Prompt: Shimmer
Jingle bells at Christmas,
They are pleasant sounds to hear,
as are coins to a vendor
that shopping time of year.
But,
The jangle of a teen’s keys,
Fill parents with dread and fear.
Standing at the door—waiting,
for loved ones back home, so dear.
Writing prompt: Quill
From the city street, a passerby looks up to a stained-glass balcony window. A small lantern flame flickers in the night as a horse-drawn carriage slowly glides down the lane. A lonely vision can be seen leaning over a tiny writing desk, quill and ink to paper, writing at a steady pace. The pedestrian imagines what the important document could be? Is this a diary, journaling the secret longings of a lonely soul? Curiosity peeked, the onlooker decides to sit at a nearby bench to observe.
Suddenly, an outburst is heard from the upstairs window. Papers rustle, and the writer slams down an angry fist and begins to pace the floor. There is a loud noise as the creaky wooden window is raised with a thud. He extends his body awkwardly out the narrow window, and heavy shoes begin to stomp down the fire escape stairs!
The writer in question is now in full view, dressed in a simple house coat, his hair disheveled, and his beard unshaven. His pace quickens and his temper rises. The passerby wonders what on earth could be the emergency? He overhears him reciting to himself some words over and over as if he fears he will forget them.
Now at the base of the ladder, the troubled author runs to the back side of the yard where an old chicken coop is kept near the kitchen alley. The disarray of a dozen sleepless birds running around seems to not matter to him. He frantically searches the ground to find a large, fallen bird feather.
His mind reels with both anger at breaking his final quill and disgust at the depths he has fallen to find a replacement. Quickly, he reaches down and grabs the largest pointy, sharp stick he can find that has a full plume of feathers. The passerby overhears him huff, “Ah! This will have to do until tomorrow.” Relieved, he scampers back up the stairs, plops down in the chair in front of the window and scrawls the final lines of his novel.
© Kristy Teague, kristywriting.wordpress.com, 2017.
Phone lines and Facebook always a tether,
Pulling our hearts and families for better,
Good times and laughter bring us together.
Cousins and grandchildren mingle at ease,
Strangers at times, but soon eager to tease,
We sit on the porch and swing in the breeze.
Family reunions, can’t wait to have fun!
Cooking, game playing, children on-the-run.
Strengthened in purpose—not easily undone.
Decades have passed; we chat, we remember,
In joy and in loss, we’ve always gathered,
Now far apart, our memories forever.
© Kristy Teague, kristywriting.wordpress.com, 2017.
A read that a haiku is a form of Japanese poetry with 17 syllables in the form of 5-7-5. For today’s prompt, “pluck,” I have an eyebrow tutorial!
Pretty eyebrows need,
Tweezers, steady hand, and freeze!
Pluck strays only, please!
© Kristy Teague, kristywriting.wordpress.com, 2017.
Today, I will attempt to write a poem and not rhyme! This cinquain is a short 5-line poem following the word pattern: 1, 2, 3, 4, 1.
The image below captures where I wish I could be today, resting in a sailboat with calm waters, a cool breeze, the sound of gentle waves as we sail away to an unknown yet cautiously close destination! Making it better would be a stylish pair of sunglasses, a cold bottle of Perrier water, my family and friends chatting away–as many as could safely fit within a sailboat! Watching fireworks in the evening on the 4th of July in a sailboat on the water would also be such a blast. Happy Independence Day!
Drifting
Ever slowly
A gentle breeze
Guides our boat calmly
Sailing
A dash of this, a dash of that,
Is how Ms. Mabel makes a vat,
Of steamy, tasty, beefy stew,
Even earned a ribbon of blue.
Chunks of beef she sautés in oil,
Adds onion, water; lets it boil.
Sprinkles in spices, bouillon cube.
Potatoes, veggies, all on cue.
She’s learned the secret for cuisine,
Colorful veggies keep it lean,
Time and care go into each step,
There’s joy in cooking with each rep.
© Kristy Teague, kristywriting.wordpress.com, 2017.
*Mabel: fem. proper name, shortening of Amabel. Enjoyed its greatest popularity
as a given name for girl babies in the U.S. from c.1884-1895, (dictionary.com).
Tiny web-like paw prints
scamper inside a bin,
As six furry kittens
Meow for their din-din.
One is orange with white paws,
Two are tawny and light,
One is calico-colored,
The last two mostly bright.
Every friend who sees them,
sighs and cheers with glee,
they hold and ask to have one,
But, I want two sets of three!
© Kristy Teague, kristywriting.wordpress.com, 2017.
