Evoking Memories

A latent thought evokes a memory

Pieces of mental mist combine

Their form abstract concrete

Yesterday’s stare back at me

Their eyes radiate like a kaleidoscope

Dancing lights reveal answers

Their questions long lost in time

I long to draw them into my mind

Consciousness doesn’t quell unrest

What did I miss only lingers on

<a href="https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/evoke/">Evoke</a>



What material is one carved?

Flimsy clumps or rigid stone

Upon whose hand creates an image

Or does the image guide the hand?

Does the path carve the being?

Like a river chewing at land

Maybe wind and ice digging canyons

Are we the leftovers or the soul?

Is the space what we fill?

Or are we what remains?

Why did they carve us to begin with

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/carve/”>Carve</a&gt;


Almost has a sister named if. The pair of little monsters run around teasing the world. As only the six to eight year old can understand, they mean not the harm they cause.

They play tag with the unsuspecting. A glimpse of her curling hair, maybe a thought of what color his ball cap was remains with you. Your thoughts jump the rail like a commuter train on the evening news. You are left bewildered to what happened. But as it was nothing really. It disappears into ether.

If has a brother, and he’s right outside your door. The chill of a sudden breeze. The flash of light off in the distance. He’s there waiting. And you can think about what it was… Almost


Who does one confess too?

Are my trespasses severe?

Does victim or perpetrator decide?

What if it was incidental.

Is it ever incidental?

Are thoughts hijacking actions?

Maybe I was unwittingly…

Swirling ghosts of logic rise

Passionate defences whisk them away

I’m a good person..I think

I must be afterall

Doubt wears any executioners hood

Shadows fill noisy jury boxes

Quietness poses as innocence

There’s a mistake here, I know

Calm is missing, as pulses race

Fear vacates my confession

I fall back from atonement

Question of the need

or the want to confess

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/confess/”>Confess</a&gt;

Anger Mushrooms

Anger mushrooms above you

Lava could not be less endearing

Your cape of shards of glass

Dart filled glares and glances

Hostility is your breath

Isolation your destination

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/mushroom/”>Mushroom</a&gt;

Faint Memories of Yesterday

Little whisper calls

A flash in the eyes

Nervous energy sparks

It’s the smell of hope

Taste of salt from the beach

Memories make clay of thoughts

Churning inside reaching for daylight

The touch of possible

Stirs lost sensations

Eyes delve for images

Time wisps away from now

Sepia shades of what was once

Crayons outline what could have been

If’s and Why’s dance in circles

Wants and needs choose next colors

Still the whispers persist

Distant dreams vividly wave like flags

Crying out to remind you

Here isn’t a destination but a passage

Faint memories of yesterday

Desperately trying to awaken you

From the sleep we call living

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/faint/”>Faint</a&gt;

Saturday Mix – Just to be Sure

“He was such a shallow man. Always try to show he had risen above hi snake like personality. Glad to see you succumb to illness.” Tina kicks dirt into the open grave. Her pale thin face sneaks a peek at the five other mourners. “It’s go to see you in the hole but it should be much further. I’d put you below Hell. Maybe that’s deep enough.”

Tina fakes a dab at her eyes. “They came just to be sure you’re dead also!”


<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/succumb/”>Succumb</a&gt;

Circles in the Air

Her mind weaves circles. The symbols are always there. She wipes her brow and closes her eyes.

The street is far more crowded than she thought it should be. Her fingers lightly squeeze a faded rose in her right hand. A insignificant scent drifts away. Much like Dawn as she finds a bench to hide on.

The city is a curious mystery. Nothing in Coldwater could prepare for the rush and bustle of people and more people. The masses hold a face that is there for her. It was foretold. The circle will be unbroken. Destiny and a purpose awaits her.

Her eyes strip away the faces from the crowd. His dark eyes and hair need to be here. Her soul demands it. Morning melts into afternoon but the faces never change.

She lifts up her backpack and thinks of a place to go. Still the circles are everywhere. She knows he is close.

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/circle/”>Circle</a&gt;

Crumb of Dignity

“Is there not one crumb of dignity within you?” Her hectic voice screeching.

He barely lifts his head.

Which just enrages her more.

“Nothing to say, huh?” She snaps

Her left hand suddenly rummage within her purse.

Two shots ring out.

A figure covered in cloth falls

<a href="https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/crumb/">Crumb</a>