Written for Cinquain Poetry Prompt #31 where
our inspiration word is “hope”. This is my cinquain.
Tag: Hope
At What Price?
Our gracious host, Rochelle, is asking us to get
creative in 100 words or less using the photo
seen below. Welcome to Friday Fictioneers!
This is where the prompt took me.
Is Anybody Listening?
Written for The Sunday Whirl – Wordle #730. Our host is
Brenda Warren and these are our words: ‘ideas,
remember, words, plague, escape, faith,
strength, unity, through, arrest, cruelty, and
injustice’. Here’s where the words took me.
The Climb
Written for Cinquain Poetry Prompt #11.
Our inspiration word is “overcome”.
Here’s where my thoughts went.
New Day
Written for Cinquain Poetry Prompt #1.
Our inspiration word is “new”.
This in my Cinquain.
Journeys End: An Ovi
Written for Ovi Poetry Challenge #100.
This week’s inspiration word is
“ending”. Keeping with the year’s
theme of positivity, this is my Ovi.
Desert Skies
Written for Susi’s SenHai Saturday #3.
The photo below is our inspiration;
we are to respond with one senryu
and one haiku. This is my take.
New Beginnings!
Passage Of Time ~ An Ovi
Written for Ovi Poetry Challenge #93.
This week’s inspiration word is
“rise”. Keeping with the year’s
theme of positivity, this is my Ovi.
Of Brighter Days
Written for Ovi Poetry Challenge #92.
This week’s inspiration word is
“bridge”. Keeping with the year’s
theme of positivity, this is my Ovi.
A Hand To Lend: An Ovi
Written for Ovi Poetry Challenge #83.
This week’s inspiration word is “lift”.
In the spirit of positivity, here is my Ovi.
Another Day: An Ovi Poem
Written for Ovi Poetry Challenge #75.
Our inspiration word is “persevere” and this is my ovi.
Before Day Is O’er
Written for Saturday Six Word Story #120
where Shweta offers up the word “hope”
as our inspiration …. one of the most
beautiful words in any language.
Here are my six words.
Let In Calm: Dectina Refrain and Haiku
Written for Moonwashed Weekly Prompt (“hope for”)
and Weekly Prompts Wednesday Challenge (“impatience).
Here is my Dectina Refrain followed by a Haiku.
Fret,
Worry,
Useless fears
Swirl in our brains
Dance of impatience
When all we should hope for
Is a peaceful mind and heart
Every day is its own journey
Our destination is preordained
Fret, worry, useless fears swirl in our brains
The journey is short
No time for useless worry
Be still, let in calm
NAR©2024
Dectina Refrain:
This refrain is written as follows:
1st line – 1 syllable, 2nd line – 2 syllables
3rd line – 3 syllables, and so on for 9 lines;
the 10th line is comprised of the first four lines
as one stand-alone line.
This is the extraordinary “Bridge Over Troubled Water” by Simon and Garfunkel
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
The Gospel According To George
These are my most sincere wishes for you.
🩶 🕊️
This is George Harrison with “My Sweet Lord”
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NAR©2017-present.
WHEELBARROWS AND WOODPECKERS: PART 2
Yesterday my MC had just emailed his estranged wife
and was hoping for a reply, a Christmas miracle.
Here’s where we left off. Let’s continue:
※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※
Push send and cross my fingers that Annie hasn’t changed her email address. Going to bed and will say a prayer for a Christmas miracle…..
I woke up early again today; it’s Christmas morning. I’m anxious and afraid to check my email. Can I bring myself to read beyond the first couple of words? Instead, I decide to wait just a bit and pour myself a cup of coffee. I sit looking out the window as the woodpeckers hop from branch to branch finding their way home.
Did Annie get my email? Will she answer me? I guess I can put off the inevitable for only so long. I decide to check my computer; nothing. My heart is shattered and I crumble onto the chair . What a fool I was to wait so long to reach out to her.
It’s early afternoon now and the luscious aroma of roasting turkey is wafting through every room in the house; I can’t bear the thought of eating Christmas dinner alone. When everything is done cooking, I’ll pack up all the food and bring it to the soup kitchen; at least someone will reap the benefits of my stupidity.
I clean up, get dressed and pour myself a glass of wine. Perhaps I’ll sit by the tree and listen to some Christmas music while the turkey finishes doing its thing. The happy tunes coming from the radio do not match my mood and then, as if by simply willing it to happen, a melancholy song starts up. I never thought I would be spending Christmas like this …. alone, broken-hearted and in tears.
I hastily wipe at my eyes with the back of my hands and turn off the radio. No more music today. Time to see how the dinner is coming along. On my way into the kitchen, I glance out the window at the woodpeckers. Standing by the once useless wheelbarrow, suitcase in hand, is my Annie. She gives me a slow, sweet smile and a little wave.
Without stopping to think “Is this real?”, I flew down the stairs and out the back door. Thank you, God, for second chances.
NAR © 2023
This is “I’ll Be Home For Christmas” by Diana Krall.
A VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS,
MY DEAR FRIENDS!
MAY ALL YOUR WISHES COME TRUE!
🎄
This website (including text, graphics and videos) is copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and not for use by anyone except with permission. NAR © 2017-present.
WHEELBARROWS AND WOODPECKERS: PART 1
Taking a short break to celebrate
Christmas with my family.
Rebooting an old favorite from 2021;
some of you have seen it; many haven’t.
💫
My Dear Annie,
It took about ten minutes of me staring at a blank computer screen before I started typing this email – and that’s just today. I’ve been doing the same thing every day for the last eight months. I’ll type a paragraph, then delete it. The idea of reaching out to you began thirty seconds after you left our house and closed the door on our life together. I have about a thousand thoughts and questions swirling around in my brain, much like the snowflakes dancing in the wind in our backyard.
I got up early and made myself a cup of coffee, then sat by the kitchen window and watched the birds at the feeders. You’ll be happy to know the red-headed woodpeckers have returned, just as they always do. How I wish you would return to me, too.
I held my coffee cup up to my nose and inhaled the rich aroma of dark roast. I’m drinking from that cup you gave me ages ago with COOL BEANS scrawled across the front. I use it every day and always think about you (not that I need a reminder) and I’ve decided that today will be the day I must summon the courage to write to you to say “I’m sorry”.
You see, tomorrow is Christmas Day and I can’t think of a better time to tell you what’s on my mind. If I don’t do it today who knows if I ever will? I miss you, Annie. I miss you so damn much it literally hurts. My heart aches for you and my stomach churns when I realize what a first class jerk I was to let you slip through my fingers.
I don’t know what I was thinking. No, I take that back; I do know. I was thinking about myself – me, myself and I. What a stupid, selfish idiot I was. I’m sure you’d agree with that assessment. I’m equally sure there’s a spot for me in the Guinness Book of World Records as the biggest fool ever. How could I expect you to put your dreams and plans on hold while I pursued mine?
If I’ve come to realize anything over these last few months it’s the fact that what I want in life isn’t more important than what you want and all my achievements are not worth a damn without you. I am so sorry for not seeing that sooner.
When I finally realized how empty my life was without you and how much I yearned to be sharing and living our dreams together, you were long gone. I don’t blame you one bit; if I was you, I would have left me, too. I’m useless without you and I’m so ashamed that I put myself before you.
Do you remember that old wheelbarrow we found last year buried under weeds and ivy? It was missing its wheel and was of no use to anyone. You had the brilliant idea of transforming it into a planter instead of throwing it away. I have also lost my wheel, my direction in life and I find I can’t do anything without it, without you. I need you to help bring me back to life, to give me purpose. I need your forgiveness. I need you.
I was driven by my obsession for success and power more than anything else – more than putting you first, more than your deepest desire to start a family. How could I have deprived you of that? How could I have deprived us of that? How could I have been so blind not to see that was exactly what I wanted too? Well, I screwed up royally. All the success and power I ever wanted are mine now but they are hollow victories. The price was too dear – losing you and everything that was and might have been, that should have been. I wake up alone in our bed and come home to an empty house. And all day, every day, I simply exist like a wheelbarrow without a wheel.
I have no idea where you are, how you are or what you’re doing. I pray that you haven’t lost all faith in me, even though that may be what I deserve. That would surely destroy me because my love for you is stronger than ever. I wouldn’t blame you for not believing what I’m about to say but I would do anything, give up everything just to have you by my side once again. I am empty inside without you and I’m begging for a second chance. My one hope that I cling to every day is the fact that I haven’t been served with divorce papers …. yet. Please tell me there’s a chance for us, a chance that you can possibly forgive me.
Christmas Day. What a blessing it would be to have you back, to have you tell me we’re going to be okay! How grateful I would be for the opportunity to show you how much I love you and need you in my life!
Don’t laugh but I’m going to attempt to prepare my very first Christmas dinner by myself. I bought a small turkey, all the fixings and a lovely bottle of wine .… just enough for two. It would give me the greatest joy to share the day with you and every day after that, to hold you in my arms and make all the sorrow go away.
Annie, if only you could sprout wings and fly home to me like the woodpeckers! Will you come home for Christmas? Please come back to me and never leave.
I love you so very much.
Charlie
※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※
Push send and cross my fingers that Annie hasn’t changed her email address. Going to bed and will say a prayer for a Christmas miracle.
NAR © 2023
TO BE CONTINUED TOMORROW
This is U2 with “Christmas (Baby, Please Come Home)”
Warmest Wishes This Christmas Eve!
This portfolio (including text, graphics and videos) is copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and not for use by anyone without permission. NAR © 2017-present.
PROMISES
Ever since he was a small boy growing up in Fairfax, Missouri, Will Horton was obsessed with baseball. Every chance he had he’d play ball with his friends and when no one was around, he’d spend hours bouncing a ball off the old shed behind the house.
In 5th grade Will was one of the starting pitchers for his Little League Team, the Badgers. They practiced three or four days a week after school and played a game every Saturday against the rival team – the Coyotes. By the time Will entered 7th grade, he qualified for the traveling team playing both home and away games.
Most nights during baseball season, Will and his dad Tom would hunker down in front of the TV and watch the local major league baseball team, the Kansas City Royals. Will dreamed of one day playing with the Royals in Big K Stadium; he longed to go to a game but tickets weren’t cheap and Kansas City was 100+ miles from Fairfax. “Some day” Will would whisper to himself and fall asleep every night clutching his mitt.
On his 10th birthday Tom surprised Will with two tickets to the Royals game. Will talked nonstop all the way to the game, quoting all the Royals stats. Arriving at the Big K, he swore it was the biggest building in all Missouri. Will was the happiest he’d ever been. The smell of peanuts and hot dogs filled the air and the crowd was anxious for the game to start. Finally the Royals ran onto the field to cheers from the fans. They played a great game and won with a staggering score of 16 to 2. All the way home Will and Tom talked about the game.
That night at bedtime Will made himself the biggest promise ever – to one day be starting pitcher for the Royals against the most famous baseball team in the world: The New York Yankees.
Time went on, Will graduated high school and was recruited by the University of Miami as pitcher for the Miami Hurricanes. In the evenings he delivered pizza, saving what money he could. He was living his dream. One night that dream abruptly turned into a hellish nightmare when Will’s delivery car was sideswiped by a truck and slammed hard into the side of a building. Will lost consciousness and woke up in the hospital; his pitching arm had been amputated just above the elbow.
Will was devastated; his baseball days were over before they even started. Needing to get away from Miami and reminders of the crash, he transferred to a college in Cincinnati which happened to be located across from The Great American Ballpark, home to the Cincinnati Reds. On game nights he’d go up to the school’s rooftop alone to watch the games.
One particularly dismal night about eight months after his accident, Will pushed himself up onto the ledge of the roof and inched his way to the edge. Hugging the stump of his right arm, he stared at the twinkling lights coming from The Great American. Will swayed slightly; there was nothing to hold on to. He looked straight ahead at the stadium, then closed his eyes and slowly lifted his right foot off the ledge. What did he have left in his life?
In the heavy silence of the night, Will was aware of a barely imperceptible click as the door to the roof quietly closed. A soft voice by his side asked “You don’t really want to do that, do you?”
“What’s it to you? You don’t even know me.“
“That’s true” came the reply “but if you jump, who’s gonna go to tomorrow’s game with me?“
Planting his foot back on the ledge, Will glanced out of the corner of his eye. There stood a petite figure wearing a baseball cap. From the back pocket of her jeans she produced two tickets and placed them down on the ledge.
The shadow of a smile crossed Will’s face; this girl had spunk. Offering her hand, Will reached out, grabbed hold and climbed off the ledge.
“Hey, I’m Kate.”
“Will Horton” he replied.
“Well, Will Horton. Do we have a date?”
He paused for just a second. “Yeah. Why not?”
“If you play your cards right, Will Horton, there’s a couple of good games coming up in June and July. Ever hear of a little team called The New York Yankees?”
Will suddenly realized he was still clutching Kate’s hand. It felt really good having someone to hold on to.
NAR © 2023
It’s October – World Series month here in the USA and the games begin in just 10 days. Unfortunately for us here in NY, the Yanks fell short again but if you’re a diehard baseball fan like me, you’ll watch any game that’s on TV. Here’s a great song in honor of America’s Favorite Pastime – “Centerfield” by John Fogerty. Play ball!
I hope you’ll join me today
as we continue our
musical journey
In The Groove.
Hold onto your baseballs!
⚾️
https://rhythmsection.blog/
SAVING GRACE
There aren’t too many people who know about this part of my life; that’s about to change.
It was 1943 and I was crazy about Pvt. Roy Holmes at Fort Campbell, Kentucky. Every night for two weeks I snuck out my bedroom window to be with him. Then he stopped coming around and I found out he’d been deployed. I was heartbroken. Just one short month later I learned he’d been killed. Another month later I realized I was pregnant.
Mama and daddy would never understand; what’s worse, they’d never forgive me. I packed some clothes and snuck out one last time. I caught a north-bound bus, getting off at the aptly named city of Hope, Ohio. Eyeing a pretty white church, I headed straight for it and rang the bell. I was surprised when a young handsome pastor answered; he was even more surprised when I fainted in the doorway. When I came to I was on a sofa with the pastor and two women standing over me.
“Better now?” asked the pastor and I gave a little nod of my head. “Maybe if you tell us what’s wrong we’ll be able to help” he suggested.
“Yes, what wrong, dear? Maybe we can help?” the two kindly women asked in unison.
Speaking softly, I slowly made up my story as I went along: “My name is Grace Holmes. My husband of five months was killed in the war. I have no family, no money and I’m pregnant.” I started to cry tears of sorrow and shame. Handing me a tissue the pastor quietly said “There now. You’ve been through an awful ordeal. Please stay the night here in the parish house and in the morning we’ll sort it all
out.”
I gratefully accepted the pastor’s kind offer; the two women led me upstairs and helped me get settled in a lovely guest room. The room was small but well-appointed with a twin bed, nightstand, dresser and rocking chair in the corner. It even had its own bathroom with a bathtub! There was a beautiful view of a pond behind the church and I knew this was where I was meant to be. Still, I felt very guilty about my lies. I decided I would stay a day or two until I figured out what I would do, then I’d move on. I couldn’t take advantage of these kind people.
The next morning I found everyone in the kitchen preparing breakfast. The pastor rushed over to offer me a chair. “Good morning, Grace! These are the two ladies who were here last night when you arrived … our cook, Anna, and Peggy, our housekeeper. I’m Richard Clark, the pastor” he said, absentmindedly touching his collar. Everyone was so welcoming!
I remembered the two women as the ones who brought me to the guest room and I thanked them again for their hospitality. We made small talk during breakfast – the weather, what was on sale at the grocery store, a new recipe Anna couldn’t wait to try out. One topic everyone was careful not to mention was the war, obviously for my sake. I refrained from saying too much, afraid of turning my lie into a giant web from which I’d never free myself.
Life at the parish house was surprisingly busier that I thought. People stopped by to discuss weddings, funerals, baptisms, the church bazaar. Some inquired about joining the choir and others invited Pastor Richard for dinner. It was comfortable while being lively and I liked helping Anna in the kitchen, even though she insisted I should be resting in my “delicate condition”. Soon I would have to leave before I wore out my welcome.
One night after dinner, Pastor Richard asked me to join him in his office. He offered me a chair and then sat behind his desk. “Grace, I believe things happen for a reason. I’ve been thinking about this since you arrived the other night. There’s a way we can help each other. You see, my secretary recently retired and I haven’t been able to find anyone to take her place. I’d like to offer you the job. It’s not very demanding – taking phone calls, answering the door, keeping track of appointments, things like that. The salary is decent and room and board are included. Would you consider taking the job? I believe you’d be a real asset here.”
“Pastor Richard, I wasn’t prepared for this and I don’t know what to say. What about my condition?” I responded.
“Grace, you’re pregnant; you don’t need to ring a bell and declare ‘Unclean! Unclean!’ wherever you go. Celebrate the new life growing inside you! Do me a favor; sleep on what we discussed and let me know tomorrow. And Grace, please call me Richard.”
That night in my room I thought about the job and living at the parish house. I had to admit I felt at home here and it would be an answer to my prayers. The next morning I told Richard I wanted to take the job on a 3-week trial basis if that was alright with him. He was so happy with my news, he gave me an unexpected hug that lifted me off my feet.
Working at the parish house was wonderful; I was always a quick study and I became entrenched in my new job in no time. Of course, Richard was a huge part of the reason I was so happy. Over the period of just a few weeks we became much closer to each other. We spent many hours together, our friendship growing stronger until it was undeniable – we were falling in love.
When I announced to Richard that the 3-week trial was over, he walked over to me and said softly “Grace, please stay. I couldn’t bear it if you left.”
I reached up and put my arms around his neck. “I’m not going anywhere, Richard. I’ve fallen in love with you.” And we kissed for the first time.
From that moment on we were inseparable. As our relationship became obvious to those around us, so did my pregnancy. Richard asked me to marry him and I said yes. We were both thrilled but my lies haunted me. I knew I had to confess before I could marry Richard. I took him by the hand and led him to the sofa in his office.
“Darling, I have something to tell you. The night I arrived here, I lied to everyone about my past. I‘m not a war widow; I was never married. I became pregnant by my boyfriend who was drafted and left without even saying goodbye to me. One month after that, he was killed and soon after I discovered I was pregnant. My parents would never understand so I ran away from home. I got off the bus here when I heard the bus driver announce the city of Hope. I believe this is where I was meant to be.”
I sighed deeply and waited for Richard to say something. Finally, when he spoke, his words shocked me.
“Oh, Grace. I’ve been waiting all this time for you to tell me, to unburden yourself. How awful it must have been to be living with that lie day after day. You see, darling, I’ve always known or at least surmised the truth.”
I was stunned. “But how? How could you know?”
“No wedding ring, no pictures of your ‘husband’, no mention of your childhood, your family. You said nothing about your life at all. I figured it out and I didn’t care. I love you and I’m so happy you trusted me enough to tell me the truth. I want to be your husband and a father to your baby more than anything in the world. That’s all that matters.” And then he kissed me.
“We’re going to have to call your parents and let them know you’re safe. Don’t worry, darling; it will all be ok. But first we have to tell Anna and Peggy we’re getting married; I’ll never hear the end of it if they’re not the first to know!”
I made another decision that night: if our baby is a girl, her name will be Hope.
NAR © 2023
I’m looking forward to
having you join me today
At The Movies.
https://rhythmsection.blog
The Elephant's Trunk 