November is approaching fast and Americans will go back to the polls for our mid-term elections. If we haven’t got enough going on with Trump still wreaking havoc in our country, we have to worry about the direction some of our state governors are taking us. Denying our history in the classroom, banning certain books and taking away a woman’s reproductive rights. What century are we in?
I just hope the women of this country will rise up and deliver us once more.
Happy Wednesday everyone! ☺️
For Linda G. Hill’s
One Liner Wednesday Like this: Like Loading...
The House on the Hill
The old house on the hill
was a magical place to a young child
Conjuring visions of grandeur
from a time gone by
Imagining winding staircases
and huge chandeliers
Surely an attic filled with treasures
An old rocking horse, beloved train set
and dusty photographs
How I wished to explore
the expansive home
but it was not meant to be
and remained an enigma
The iron railing fence and huge gate
always locked and foreboding
Mounds of leaves from ancient trees
picked up by chilly winds
Only on rare occasions did we see her,
the old lady who lived there
Glimpses through the window of a face
with grey hair pulled tight in a bun
How we would giggle and make up stories
of her being a witch who would snatch
up small children and eat them for supper
All so long ago but those memories still fresh
as I picked up the Sold sign and turned the key
Copyright © 2021 Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing
All Rights Reserved
Photo by Nathan Walker on Unsplash
Laura is hosting
tonight and has prompted us as follows D'Verse Poets
For this Poetics Prompt I want us to be voyeurs, peeping through windows and doors of a house One that has no family connections, no memories of our own to call upon .
conjure an imaginary house of any size, any place, any age fill it with an imaginary person/people past or present, or ghosts, or leave it empty with its history make it literal but move into the metaphorical if you wish Like this: Like Loading...
Sparks shooting stars
up to the night sky from the dried, crackling wood A child stares into the flames mesmerized where he stood This night of fireworks and fire Bonfires burning a Guy Fawkes effigy Spare a penny for the Guy mister? Remember, remember the fifth of November is the age-old elegy Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing © Sue Vincent's Weekly Write/Photo For those not familiar with Guy Fawkes day and why it is celebrated, you can read about him here Like this: Like Loading...
Mollusk crusted rock
In the ancient midden Reflecting the life Of times long hidden History for us to unravel In these gifts preserved Stories of ancestors Thoughtfully conserved Uniformly collected Treasures of times gone by Chronicles the account Of what happened, and why Years of being derelict Disrespecting our past Acknowledging the fault was ours Learning the lesson at last We must forgive mistakes Ignorance is not a crime They knew not the value Of that place and time Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing © DVerse Poets Pub hosted tonight by Frank Hubeny He has challenged us with “Blame and Forgiveness” Word Prompts: Derelict Fault Uniform Like this: Like Loading...
Back in Time
I wanted to believe that I could travel back to time past To escape the pain and the memories How long could it last? Itching to be gone Disappearing into thin air Touch the stone In theory be gone Without a care Tired of your criticism Weary now of the humorless pokes Drained of energy I stagger My back on the ropes Today is the day I find myself here In front of the stone Concentrating hard I say goodbye to you and Back in time I am thrown Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing © Word Prompts: Itching Critic Air Theory Sue Vincent's Thursday Write/Photo Prompt
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