Posts Tagged ‘Water’
Sep
Dead Flowers
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I was still in my twenties. A woman at the bar grabbed my arm and asked for my help. But I also would have rather done the tying than be the one tied up. Faraway in time, my doctor was phoning me with the results of the biopsy. I had what he called “an oddball cancer.” Of course, I did. What other kind would a poet have? The woman, her back now to me, was singing along with the jukebox about all the lonely people, a small, crumpled sound like foul dead flower water at the bottom of a vase.
From Guest Contributor Howie Good
Howie’s newest poetry collection, Heart-Shaped Hole, is available from Laughing Ronin Press. He co-edits the online journal UnLost, dedicated to found poetry.
Aug
Good Boy, Charlie
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Even the dog knew it was a mistake. So much had happened at the lake house, and yet, nothing ever changed. Her father stood at the end of the dock, slouching.
Charlie whined and wagged, as if to say, “Really? Again?!”
“Didn’t think you’d come,” he said.
“I just want her ashes. Then I’ll leave.”
He stared, eyes piercing, his face sharp.
“Your mother wanted to be here.”
“My mother wanted to be safe.”
Jayne released Charlie from his leash. He burst forward, sending her father off the dock.
“Good boy,” Jayne praised Charlie, wiping the water from her face.
From Guest Contributor Kate McGovern
Aug
Gone Fishing
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The fish hook didn’t stir in the stillness of the water.
There’s a dark, ominous look in the sky. Not the sunny, warm weather the forecasters predicted.
The shore wasn’t far, so I stayed on course and waited. I wished I had something to drink. The air was humid, and my lips quenched water.
In the tiny row boat, I felt lonely, especially since no one else was on the lake and my only companions were the birds chirping in the trees.
A bolt of lightning filled the sky, followed by claps of thunder.
Then the downpour.
No fish today.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
May
Endurance
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
When Henrik asks me to hide his wife and son, I don’t hesitate.
Every day, I bring food and water to the sewer where I’ve hidden them. I feel it’s safer than hiding them in my house when the Nazis show no boundaries in searching homes.
Unfortunately, it’s not the accommodation I hoped for, but Henrik and his family are grateful. The resistance has brought more people into the hiding space and so they are no longer alone.
It saddens me, but I fight along with my comrades for a better life in our country.
And so, we all endure.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
May
Saturday Jog
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Jogging through the park, I keep the pace feeling energetic and free. The breeze against my cheeks feels refreshing and the chirping birds fill the air with song.
It’s crowded for a Saturday morning and parents are up early with their children. I pass two women pushing their young children on the swings as the boys soar high and chortle. Other joggers pass and smile contently.
I finish my lap and take a seat on the bench gulping water.
After breakfast and a shower, I will go about my regular weekend visiting my dad in the nursing home memory unit.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
May
Dreams In Green
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Standing here on this frigid night, I look out over a frozen landscape, and I can’t help but wonder why?. There is still hope. Maybe one day, this land will come back to life, the trees will grow, the water will flow, and the air will smell fresh and clean.
I can still feel the excitement coursing through me, the sense of wonder at seeing something so beautiful. The land of ice and snow holds a strange sort of magic.
But the land is not dead. It’s only sleeping, waiting for inspiration or something green to grow the days away.
From Guest Contributor J. Iner Souster
May
Visiting A Mountain Top
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Visiting a mountain top. The experience made me realize that time and rocks seem to stand still for a while. Far off view showing a mountain range haven been beaten smooth with time. Rugged edges of the stones reminded me that here, at least, the stones were sharp and not dull. From lack of water. For water makes everything smooth. Without the rain. The area was semi aired and contained the smell of earth. Making the entire experience surreal for a moment. Making me think of the adventure of the Hobbits and wizards and such. An adventure on a mountaintop.
From Guest Contributor Clinton Siegle
Apr
The Grieving
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The angel of death once thrust his face perilously close to mine. I can still smell his lurid breath when the wind blows across the green scummy water. Although it seems longer ago, it was only last year that he climbed into bed and cuddled with you. The survivors cope as best they can. One walks all around the car and carefully looks under it before getting in. And so I ask him, Whatever happened to the right to be lazy? An 18-month-old slipping under the water when her mother left her unattended in the tub for just a sec.
From Guest Contributor Howie Good
Howie’s newest poetry collection, Heart-Shape Hole, which also includes examples of his handmade collages, is forthcoming from Laughing Ronin Press.
Mar
Speaking From Beyond
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The spirit spoke.
“Water is wetting my house.” Trevor woke up from his dream puzzled. He wondered what his dead aunt was trying to tell him from beyond the grave. He waited for the sun to rise and then rushed down to her burial spot to investigate.
Examining the sepulcher, he saw a gaping hole in the roof of the structure and as he looked down he could see the coffin below. He took out some cement and sand he had in his car trunk and sealed off the spot.
“Ok,” he said, “That was what the dream was about.”
From Guest Contributor Dennis Williams
Dennis is an emerging poet/writer from Sandy Hill, St. Catherine, Jamaica. His writings have been published in agape Review, the American Diversity Report (ADR), Alchemy spoon issue #7, the Health line Zine #1, the independent literary magazine Adelaide #54, EgoPHobia # 74, and the livina press issue # 3, Blue Pepper Magazine.
Mar
Seasons
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I face the storm as hail pelts my already-weathered brow, reminding me of the life I once lived, traveling at a hundred miles an hour with my soul on fire. My eyes closed in anticipation of the impending crash.
As spring approaches, the mourning of winter’s end has begun. In summer, I stand alone naked, allowing the burn to continue unabated.
Spotting my image in the water, washed in its divine glow, my eyes meet my reflection, and we both take a step backward.
The epitome of life and death, or a reminder of the most graceful and majestic journey?
From Guest Contributor J. Iner Souster