For Naught

Whisper in the window
Shadow in the hall
Sometimes I think I feel you
But you’re not really
Here at all

Laughter on the wind
Face in the crowd
So many things remind me
But the silence can be
So loud

Remembering you here
Remembering you’re not
Pulling petals off of roses
And wishing upon stars
All for naught

The prompt is “whisper in the window” from Maria Giesbrecht @theguelphpoet on Instagram. April 10, National Poetry Month 2022.


Biggest Fear

All I want is for you to be near
I try not to wonder how long you’ll be here
So many things in life cannot be controlled
I only want to hold you until we grow old
Losing the one I love is my biggest fear

– Written for Limerick Challenge Week 40: Fears. Photo by Leara Morris-Clark ©2016. “Biggest Fear” made the top 5 in this contest.


I thought about you today
and how you used to smile
when I’d say your name
and call you baby.

I put those memories
away in a jar with your
name on it in case you
want them back, maybe

Baby, or maybe not.

– Written for dVerse Quadrille #14, prompt was “jar.” WC 44. Photo from


Sadness hung thick in the small, but sufficient abode.

Avenue of Poplars by Van Gogh

She came to commiserate with a family who just this morning lost their child, born without taking his first breath.

They spoke little English but seemed to be of a spiritual nature. Sadness hung thick in the small, but sufficient abode. The bewildered father desperately tried to console his grieving wife who rocked in her chair still clinging to the lifeless body.

He stepped aside, grateful for the presence of another. She approached the mother and kneeled at her feet. Laying her hands on the mother’s knees, she began chanting in Latin: a soothing voice barely above a whisper.

Slowly she reached for the child.

The mother’s sobs lessened, and her grip on the infant loosened until finally releasing him.

Quickly scooping him up, she stood and moved to the door, then spoke in English, “Be strong for one another.”

The father wringing his hands followed her outside. “Why would god take our son?” He asked in a heavy accent, maybe Russian.

“That is a good question. Perhaps it was not his time for this world.” She answered and hurried down the path, away from the mourning family.

Tucking the little body closer, she thought aloud, “Master will be very pleased with my sacrifice.”

– Written for Jane Dougherty Writes, Microfiction Challenge #8: The Avenue. Painting prompt by Van Gogh. Word prompt was “leaving.” WC 204.

The Nature Of Things

She loved the scent of raw earth and admired the power of nature.

14327160041_fb3d09a0be_kThunder rumbled like marching giants and a lightning bolt set the sky ablaze. She leaned in, closed her eyes, and inhaled deeply smelling the aroma of roses mixed with dirt and imminent rain. She loved the scent of raw earth and admired the power of nature.

The rose bushes on Martin’s unmarked grave had grown immensely in a relatively short time. They helped to hide the sadness of loss with their thriving spirit.

It was two years passed, on another stormy night, when the Goddess decided Martin was not meant for this world. Alone, she screamed with the raging storm as his lifeless body emerged. Far from town and with no friends or family to speak of, she mourned unaccompanied and processed her grief as her tears fell with the pouring rain.

Martin’s father had gone off to sea before he knew she was with child and had not returned, so alone she buried his little body and planted roses to give him life after death.

She reconciled with the earth and accepted the necessary balance within the universe. Though she could not fully understand the plans of the Goddess, she recognized that there was an order to it all, beyond her comprehension.

The rain finally began to fall. She sat by the rose bushes on the damp ground with legs crossed. She hummed a tune and ran her hands through the soil as she turned her face toward the sky and let the cool liquid wash over her. Alone she praised the Goddess and felt her heart at peace.

– Written for Weekly Fiction|Poetry Writing Challenge #268 Inspired by Prompt up sentence “She closed her eyes to smell the phlox.” WC 260. Photo by Geoff Livingston“The Nature of Things” won 3rd place by popular vote in this contest.

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