Mother for Magpie Tales

For Magpie Tales

with Tess Kincaid

Mother knew 

she would never see

the twenty-first century  

she stated the fact 

and made it so

Take care of things

she said

her last wish 

tethered me

to her dreams

not mine

She Walks...

Tess Kincaid

She walks
In the clear
To avoid
The muddy
Turbulence
That is
Her life

Never looking up
She strolls
Splashing
In tall boots
Pretending
This is real
Not the murky water

In this moment
She walks on rocks
Never disturbing
Silt nor mud
Nor secrets
And thinks
This is how it should be

Morning Curtains For Magpie Tales...

House work
Dishes
Dirty floor
Sat to rest
Fell to the floor
The curtains entwined
As she slept
The husband
Immediately
Hired some help.

For the prompt at Magpie Tales with Tess Kincaid

Liz For Magpie Tales

Elizabeth Taylor, Set of "Giant", by Frank Worth.

For Magpie Tales with Tess Kincaid

LIZ

Twirling a lariat 

Was natural

For Liz

The heat of the dry land

Was insignificant

Beside the heat

Of this rising star

She rode horses

And others to fame

With one true love

Like oil and water

Seven men loved her

She loved them all

Short and sweet

Her passion 

And turmoil

Made her a star

And a woman

Many men 

Wanted 

To love

Gone but remembered

She 

Will

Always be

"Like a cat

On a hot tin roof"

But with diamonds

Snapped...

For Magpie Tales

Those stairs taunted me

With each step

With each call

It was more difficult

To lift my feet and go

With a smile

Illness is an ugly thing

And comes in many forms

As I cared for the ailing

Sickness entered me

One more ring of the bell

One more weak cry 

I tried for patience

Love and understanding

I was tried and tested

The final test I failed

Empathy no longer inside me

I ended it

They found her

At

The 

Bottom

Of the stairs

I was smiling

Cats Reign

You were motionless
I brought blood
No emotions
Showing pain
Should've let
Sleeping dogs, uh,
Cats lie

For Magpie Tales

Thanks, Tess.

For The Mag

Not To Be Reproduced, 1937, Rene Magritte 

A week has passed and once again it is time to stretch our creative muscles for Tess Kincaid at Magpie Tales.  Each Sunday we get an art prompt that inspires us to write.  Join the fun.

Fear

Keeps us faceless

Be certain

Show your face

To the world

Shouting

I am worthy

I can write.

Creating For Magpie Tales

Days long past
We worried
The film would break
Leaving us with slapping sounds
And empty views

Now with Progress
(Such a dirty word!)
We can repeat
Endlessly
If we have power.

Play the same scene
Over and over
Like The Omega Man
Know it by heart
Pretending you're not alone.

For Tess at Magpie Tales

Magpie Tales The Thrift Shop

On Finding Stumpy

I just can't help it

I never throw away

A piece that might be handy

In dozens of other ways

Oh, the treasure one can find

If you only stop to look

And take a little time

In one place such as this

I discovered  "Stumpy"

I could not resist

Minus one hand

Missing some toes

He had a new fan

Sitting in my ferns

He smiles a lot

No concern for what he hasn't

Just proud of what he's got

Writing prompt from Tess Kincaid

I Got Nothing...

Tess at Magpie Tales presents a creative challenge each week.  I truly tried.  I believe my creativeness is on spring break.

Feast in the House of Simon, 1610, El Greco 

Sometimes art sings to me

And fills me full of words

Although the painting's lovely

My eye went to the robes

Instead of guests for dinner

I see material for curtains

Strips for a quilt

Yards for any project

But then I'm filled with guilt.

I do admire the painting

But I can't forget the quilt.

Poet's Sleep

                                                                       Poet's Sleep, 1989, by Chang Houg Ahn     

Tess Kincaid prompts us to create words inspired by her picture of choice.  The Mag is a weekly challenge at Magpie Tales.  Join the fun or just enjoy the writings of others.  Either way you will not be disappointed.

As the poet sleeps

Skulls of discarded words

Gather and cry

"Why not me?"

As the poet sleeps

Words lay like stones

To be crafted

Into a poetical statue

As the poet sleeps

He dreams

People will read

Enjoy his words

As the poet wakes

He fears

There is nothing

But skulls and rocks.

The Mill

For The Mag.  Thanks, Tess.

The Mill by Andrew Wyeth

The mill was silent.  The stream frozen. The last wood was laid on the fire as the family gathered around the table to pray for spring.

Self Portrait For The Mag...

self-portrait, Francis Bacon

self-portrait, Gail

Do we reflect our goodness

To the people we meet?

Or does our badness show

As plainly as our feet

I can reflect on actions past

I can reflect the sun

But all reflections

Are things that are done

We must take this moment

Like a tiger by the tail

Reflect on consequences

Mark our decisions well

For only in a moment

Can we decide for sure

How we will reflect our light

Let it be good and pure

The Mag

Thanks, Tess.

Art With The Mag

le Jardin, 1962, by Max Ernst 

Orange, yellow, blue and green
Surround a woman underground
Not to bloom or blossom
but rather to rot or drown

Art is in the eye of the beholder
As poetry is in the heart
He painted what I could not see
I rambled...yet both are art

For The Mag with Tess Kincaid

The Mag 190

My name keeps me locked
Behind an inescapable fence
Every one fears my breed
It doesn't make sense

I'm like every other dog
I act how I am trained
I sadly watch as people pass
I needn't be restrained

Look into my baby blues
I am a dog
Like any other
Just a different hue

Join The Mag 190 prompt from Magpie Tales.

Mag 177 Yukon Gold

Writing prompt by Tess Kincaid

photo by Agustin Berrocal  

The winter was long
And mean
Root cellar was empty
The miners were lean

Searching for gold
Kept them warm
But you can't eat rocks
And come to no harm

Zeke remembered
What Sam had said
Bury me where I lived
When I die you'll be fed

So Zeke buried Sam
Just where he asked
And uncovered potatoes
Zeke had stashed

A yellow potato
Named Yukon Gold
Buried by Zeke
Let the miners grow old.

The Mag 169

Magpie Tales with Tess Tincad presents a writing challenge each week at The Mag. Join.  Read.  Enjoy.

Eventually we know

A weed is a weed

And not wishes

We cannot refrain

From hoping

As we blow

Wishes

And seeds

To the winds

Wishes grow weeds

Lighthouses fall

As do we

I admire those

Who still dream

While I cannot sleep

The Mag 165: The School Teacher

Instructions

1) Write a poem or short vignette using the picture featured in this post as your inspiration. Feel free to take the image to use for your post. 

2) Link back to Magpie Tales from your post.

3) Sign up in the Mr. Linky list, linking directly to your post,AFTER you've posted.

Joining the challenge at Magpie Tales

Monhegan's Schoolteacher, 2004 by Jamie Wyeth 

The School Teacher

I'm so pleased I did not have

A teacher such as she

With not a brain to cover up

When it's minus twelve degrees.

The Mag: Hand in Hand

This blog is dedicated to the enjoyment of poets and writers, for the purpose of honing their craft, sharing it with like-minded bloggers, and keeping their muses alive and well. 

Tess Kincaid's words, not mine.  Tess posts challenge us each Sunday to reach through our self-imposed barricades drawing out the hidden words giving them life to share with  others.

So reach deep, keep it nice and create.  For more creations visit The Mag.

Hand in hand

We adventure

Trusting blindly

The safety of two

Hand in hand

Our heart skips

As we do

The safety of two

Hand in hand

There are no limits

Creating within

The safety of two

Hand in hand

Dusk approaches

Returning home

The safety of two.

Hand in hand

Awaiting our return

Back lit silhouettes copy

The safety of two.

The Mag 151 My Cocoon

Magpie Tales with Tess Kincaid

I am safe
In my pink cocoon. 
No bad colors allowed. 
The barrier
Shuts out the dark
The cold
The things I don’t want.

I am safe
In my pink cocoon.
I will emerge
Like a butterfly
Leaves its chrysalis
Beautiful and vibrant
Ready to gather nectar
And explore the world.
Until then

I am safe
In my pink cocoon.