I am so honored that "Moments in Time" - my tribute to my son, the son we lost to a brain tumor, our first-born, our sunshine was selected as the Daily. It brings honor to me...and to him. But more than this, I am so honored by all my loving, beautiful, compassionate friends here who read, who liked or loved, or commented with such caring. Though it can't heal the brokenness of the heart, feeling such love, understanding, and compassion is like warm and gentle hands cupped around a tiny wounded bird. Friends help hold together the pieces of the shattered heart, allowing it to go on beating and loving - even more deeply.

Leaning out from a distant
unyielding rain smashing
into a yawning roof
erasing the silence
a brazen sky
that falls between them
like rivers
like deep rivers
traversing the wasteland
quiet as thunder
before it struck
the celestial dreams of lovers
on replay
you wake again
in your own suffering
wanting to run
but all the horses are lame
and out to graze
the barren pastures
fasting in anguish
tethered to the empty places  
on the tip
of your wounded tongue
in your laggard grasp
all the songs unsung

© Copyright naǧí June 14, 2017

I put elbows on the apron of my window,
my head is gently leaned on my right palm,
i am breathing in a soft, cooled breeze,
it makes me feel comfortably numb.

I hear tender singing from my neighbors yard,
and a dog barking somewhere far far away,
i ran trough these fields when i was just a child,
with many friends that left in search of their own way.

I sit here catching the last few sun-beams,
before they dive behind the hill,
i will go on a walk with my old man,
talking about my childhood thrills.




Basic definition

Plus space always between

As a boy always inviting

The dogs liked it

Spiders liked it

I liked it

I could see feet come and go

Hear the car doors slam

Someone asking ,Where's Tom run off to ?"

That day ,

The fight inside spilled out

Angry steps  

Yells and screams


The sound of fists hitting flesh

Breaking bones

You crumpled to the ground

Vacant eyes staring at me

But you couldn't see

Blood began running

Hands picking you up

I could hear you

Bouncing on the back seat

The door slammed

Another opened


The car roared angrily

Gravel flung everywhere

Dust settled

All's quite

Did I tell you

It's cool under there ?

Within this restless
hurried modern world

marching bands
and flags unfurled
voices raised just
to be heard
but no one
understands a word
the tower of "Babble"
all nonsense spoken
listening has become
just a token
minds run past
what's being said
forming responses
in one's head
planning the next
clever remark
what goes in is just noise
thrashing around in the dark
it's no wonder
divorce is rampant
no wonder world leaders
rave and rant
like leaves blowing aimlessly
in an autumn breeze
words fly about but
no one understands or sees
daily bombarded
by traffic sounds
music blaring far too loud
whirs and rumbles all around
is there no escape, no peace
no contemplative space
where one can go to clear the head?
where one can step to leave this race?

if there is
please take me there
take me while

I still have hair!

"Within this restless hurried modern world" - line from *Voice* By Oscar Wilde. I came across a list of lines to use as prompts. I had made the list some time ago but had forgotten about it
  Jun 13 Mary-Elizabeth Cotton

There used to be a person that I knew.

I didn't know them well, mind you, but I knew them.

I could reconstruct the way they walked,
I could find someone with a similar accent, to describe how they talked,
I could tell you what they looked like,

But you don't need me to do that.

You knew them. Well.

I, don't cry.
It's not my way, for one, and for two - I don't really have the right, at least, not in front of you.
I choose utter silence and avoidance - I speak only to avoid suspicion.
And if I shiver uncontrollably despite not being cold - it is winter.

You, do.
I do not see you cry, it is left unspoken that you do not want me to comfort you - I avoid you instead,
Your red eyes and absence from places you usually go tells me the truth.

Two days past, we make eye contact.
And then we drop our eyes, look down,
but make our way to each other regardless.

We do not talk, and our expressions betray nothing beyond smiles
- I was feeling something else, I assume you were too -
And then we walk together to our next destination.

The next day I actually say 'Hello,'
And there's this momentary surprised look on your face, before you say, 'Hey,' back.

I knew them,
You knew them better.

I wish they hadn't died.
I wish I'd known them a bit better.
But I don't regret knowing them while they were alive.

  Jun 13 Mary-Elizabeth Cotton

I want to tell you that the world is good.
There are good people, no matter how long it takes to find them,
And you can find beauty in the smallest things -
The cherry blossoms that always come near March,
The way a small child hides behind their mother,
The way people smile, when they think no one's watching.

I want to tell you that the world is bad.
Everybody dies, no matter how brilliant, or important, or insignificant,
And everything is doomed to fail at some point,
Rather it explodes,
or crashes and burns,
or simply sizzles out.

I want to tell you to have hope.
After everything, it's still there, waiting, in Pandora's Box,
And if you can pick out something from
Maybe you're still okay.

I want to tell you to experience despair.
You can't change anything and everything for the better,
And you must helplessly envelop yourself in it,
In order to appreciate even the
simplest of things.

But none of this will make anything better.

So I will tell you this:
That, the sky is blue,
the leaves fall in Autumn,
That, the rain is wet,
and the world is round.

Make of it what you will.

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