Posts Tagged ‘love’

Never Ending Love

Posted: February 10, 2018 in What Pegman Saw
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Today Pegman took us to Terni, Italy. While scrolling around this fascinating place I found a painting of Marmore Falls. Suddenly (especially since Valentine’s Day is right around the corner) love was in the air. Thanks, Pegman!!!

Oh, how I love you
and you love me

For I have given you laughter
and nights of such glory
we were compelled to sing and shout
under blankets of stars
And in the end
I gave you children
so beautiful even the Gods are jealous

In return
you convinced me
that I do possess courage
and you taught me
how to acquire power
beyond all imagining
Even as you made me
recognize
that neither should be abused

We have shown one another
kindness
patience
generosity

And tolerated
anger
anxiety
lustfulness
and fear

If we only survive ten more years
or are lucky enough to live
one hundred years
or one thousand years longer
we shall flow through time
side-by-side
with our heads held high
and our fingers entwined

For I know
beyond a shadow of a doubt
the strength of us will always remain

(Located in the Parco Fluviale del Nera, the Marmore Falls is one of the finest outdoor attractions in the region surrounding Terni. This waterfall may look natural, but is actually man-made and stands as the tallest man-made fall in the world.)

Until We Are No More

Posted: September 23, 2017 in What Pegman Saw
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Pegman took us to Sambor Prei Kuk Temple, Cambodia today. What an amazing place. I wandered around the grounds until I found this amazing picture. My 119-word story follows.

 

Oh, we are a pair are we not?
Wound around one another’s lives
One of us limber and forgiving
The other solid and stern

We laugh over the details
of our failures
We cry over the unforgivable losses
Children
Parents
Homes
Jobs
Joy
Not because either of us is to blame
but because there is no one to blame

We cling and claw our way
through days
And languish in our nights
Making love
or fighting
It doesn’t matter which

Because each brilliant dawn
we awaken with the hope
that one of us will
Let go
Cling tighter
Love harder
Turn away

Or we will both
remain the same
and get on with it
Until we are no more

Today Pegman took us to Wroclaw, Poland. I found this jolly Christmas village in the Magnolia Park Mall. In my mind, this tale started fairly fun before taking a dark turn. Sign of the times? Perhaps.

 

Let’s say that just this once Mikolaj loves Christmas. We’ll pretend Cecylia hasn’t left him and he has one last chance to buy gifts for their children. One boy. One girl.
Maybe not. Maybe Cecylia never had children and she spends all her time in the bedroom wondering why and her tears cause Mikolaj to run to Magnolia Park, the horrible mall at the center of Wroclaw, and he fights the crowds to buy his wife teddy bears, slippers, and her favorite perfume. Anything to slide under the tree to stop the crying.
Or perhaps our Mikolaj isn’t married. Maybe his parents fought all the time and he never wanted a life like that. Or they loved so deeply he knew, absolutely, he couldn’t have a life like theirs so didn’t even try.
In the end, let’s say his parents died in Auschwitz on Christmas day and Mikolaj was never born.

(150-words)

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I fashioned this story for Friday Fictioneers from a Native American prayer my sister copied down for me while our mother was in hospice. It now hangs on the wall beside my writing desk. I find the words very gentle and soothing.

“When you need me, I’ll be there.”
“Where, Mama?”
“In a warm wind that blows your hair; the diamond glitter on snow.”
“But I want to touch you. Smell you. Give you kisses and hugs.”
“Oh, baby, you can. Feel me in a soft summer rain. Smell the earth. Listen to the whir of a thousand dove wings in circled flight. Look for me in each new dawn. And every brilliant sunset.”
“But where will you actually be, Mama? Where?”
“Oh, baby, I will be inside you, draped around your heart. Do not think of me as gone.”

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Today Pegman took us to Cape Crozier for a wee camping trip. This is my 150-word story about this rocky place.

My Dearest Angela,
The wind blew brusquely last night. Twice I found myself braving the cold to place rocks around the tent base while Charles slept soundly. Although his face is blackened by frostbite and most of his fingers are gone, he remains a pleasant companion.
I’m afraid we shall be trapped on this outcrop until spring. Snow has fallen for ten full days and buried our supplies. How I wish I had planned better. We were forced to abandon our scientific equipment two months ago for it became too heavy for the ponies to pull. Our clothes soak up moisture and do not dry out. We have eaten our leather boots. Ice crystals tear at the wool of ours socks. They are shredded.
The ponies ran away four days ago.
We have eaten all the dogs.
My one wish is to see you. Faithfully yours, Frances

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The stones rang with laughter, the sound of bells and shouts from women so lonely they felt they would never be whole again. Battles had raged for five years, not a man remained in the village. On nights flush with drunken soldiers from foreign countries chickens and pigs were slaughtered, family quilts used for tents. Now, now, their men were only ten miles out, physically and mentally broken and bent. But these women were prepared, for they adored their men and no-longer-boys. Mattresses had been stuffed with chicken feathers, broth stewed from pig bones, love stitched into every new quilt.

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Black Widow

Posted: September 21, 2016 in Friday Fictioneers
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It’s Wednesday-Friday again, the day we Friday Fictioneers put fingertips to keys and type out 100-word stories inspired by the picture prompt our Fairy Blog Mother posts. Hooray! for Rochelle! Thank you. And Hooray! to my fellow bloggers. I look forward to each and every one of your stories.

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

My Dear Mrs. Pinkington,
At the age of 85, I never thought I would find love again
but have discovered more beauty in you than any other woman.

Tsk. Tsk. You old fool
Nellie Pinkington inspects the barely visible surgical scars along her hairline.

I would be honored if you would agree to marry me as soon as possible.
In our waning years, we have little time to spare.

You don’t know the half of it.

All I own will be yours. Please say yes.
Sincerely, Walter

Grinning, Nellie opens the satin box containing fifteen
Or is it sixteen?
wedding rings.

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Perhaps these 102 words are a bit off-center, I’m not sure. Thanks to “Mrs. Russell” for the photo and to our fearless leader, Rochelle, for posting yet another interesting picture to lure us into doing our very best in 100 words.
PHOTO PROMPT - © Connie Gayer (Mrs. Russell)

“Thou speak’st aright this night.”
Bam!
“I am hard-wired for this job!”
Bam!
“Two down, lots to go. A merrier hour was never wasted!”
Bam! Bam! Bam!
“Man. Woman. Man. Woman. Must be equal on both sides.”
Bam!
“No kids.”
Bam!
“Naked legs and naked arms a-tangle as they fall. Silly grins and kisses all. No flowers pressed upon the eyes. Got a gun today.”
Bam!
“Shoots straight. Shoots true.”
Bam!
***
At dawn our Puck tip-toes from the woods, whispering, “If we shadows have offended, think but this, and all is mended. That you have but slumber’d here. While these visions did appear.”

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PHOTO PROMPT - © C. Hase

June watched her boys tumble across the yard like puppies. Not one of them was right in the head – she knew it for a fact. Nasty old Mable didn’t need to tell her. No she did not. Clem: Ten – can’t count to one. Joe-Bob: Nine – forgets his own name. Stew: Eight – if a tree toppled, he’d just let it fall and squash him dead. It’s their daddy’s fault. Knocked each one in the head when they were little babies. But Daddy’s gone. June saw to that. Shot him. Threw him in the sea. Now she’s left with a black-haired chain of fools. She loves each link.

Their Story

Posted: October 22, 2014 in Friday Fictioneers
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PHOTO PROMPT Copyright- The Reclining Gentleman

Let’s say we have a man and a woman. Let’s say they’re in a boat. Let’s put the boat in a lake.
He wraps an arm around her. She leans into his shoulder, kisses him and says, “Love you.”
Oh, I know it can go another way.
Maybe she doesn’t want the arm there. You can tell because she pulls away.
Maybe she’s waiting to tell him, “I’m pregnant.” or “I’m leaving.”
But I’m telling you it goes the first way.
Maybe they remove their clothes,
make love with swans floating around them. Hokey, I know.
But this is their story, not mine.