Wordgrove Post & Review

Quoted in the Grove:
The cradle rocks above an abyss, and common sense tells us that our existence is but a brief crack of light between two eternities of darkness.
~Vladamir Nabokov

The shortness of life, I keep saying, makes everything seem pointless when I think about the longness of death. When I look ahead, all I can see is my final demise. And they say not for seventy or eighty years. And I say, Maybe you, but me, I’m already gone.
~Elizabeth Wurtzel

Rivers know this: there is no hurry. We shall get there some day.
~AA Milne

EndQuote:
Lord, let me live until I die.
~Will Rogers

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Posted from the Grove:
There has been a setback for Piffin. Give her a place in your thoughts; send her your strength.

This week’s Post & Review is devoted to the writings of Wordgrove authors …

~

…and their influences

Time, by The Burned
From whitefeather’s paz: Passages of Time (Read her poem, same title, bottom of this page)

https://youtu.be/O6i1MYJZYdI

 ~

Prewritten for Thurs (04/23) @6pm PT/9 ET is: confession, victory

 ~~

@Writers Platform

Glass Table: Four by Greenie

A Little Sneak

throw my arms around you
and kiss kiss kiss you so
sneaking a tickle to your ribs
and then a Belly Blow!

 ~

A Storm Brews

I watched the play of the lighting thru the darkened skies
Thought of animal passions and piercing eyes
of a cool wit and charming grin
passions meeting, making my head spin

 ~

A Petal At A Time

I open myself
A petal at a time
Showing the world, and you
This heart of mine.
One petal shows the pain
Another , how I like sunshine
And walks in the rain.
Slowly I bloom
Open a little more.
You glimpse me here
On a distant shore.
A few more petals open
More of me shining thru.
My wit, my humor,
My skies so blue.
No longer a bud
Not quite full bloom
My petals move
Taking up more room.
I am stronger now
Tho delicate and rare.
You handle me
With such gentle care.
My leaves unfold
More petals grow.
Show you the me
I need you to know.
More open now
I show my face
I look around
In this big space.
My heart revealed
My petals spread
I see you there,
I feel such dread.
My petals contract
And cover me new
I try to be open,
To think of you.
Petals move and
wave about
So hurt I am
So full of doubt.
My tender heart
Open and true
Questions me
Not you.
I sway in the breeze
Bending to and fro
Did I show more
Than you wanted to know.
I open myself
A petal at a time
Showing the world,
And you.

 ~

Afire

My passion for you burns within,
setting my soul afire
Aching there to share with you,
the depths and heights of desire…

My lips to suckle deep within,
blazing trails of heat
Yearning there to share with you,
your passions full to meet…

My hands to smooth atingle your skin,
quivering leaps to touch
Unbound there in sensuous needs,
to spill… ever so… much…

 ~

Prewritten: audition, tarragon

~Greymane: Appeased

The queen had grown weary of mutton and mead,
insisting the cooks were to blame
She fired them all as she loudly decreed
they be banished to live in their shame
Replacement auditions were held kingdom wide,
the queen tasting all they prepared
Her judgment so harsh on the ones who had tried
That soon there was no one who dared
The days turned to weeks and the weeks turned to years
and still no replacement was found
The queen passed away in a pool of her tears
and soon a new monarch was crowned
The queen had a daughter much plumper than she,
her palate more easily pleased
With tarragon biscuits and half moldy brie
their ruler was finally appeased
It pays to be picky for what it is worth
but of gluttony try to beware
The new queen was happy but grew in her girth
while eating the nastiest fare
She grew so immense that the people would joke
soon she would outgrow her throne
A sad story told as the villagers spoke
how she died in the kitchen alone

 ~

~BarTalk: the godcry

~

Impromptu: note on a bench

~Greymane: The Bench

It was hard for him to believe another year had come and gone so soon, yet here he sat again. The time always seemed to pass by so quickly considering how all the lonely moments dragged by so slowly. It was always the same here, the cool river breeze blowing softly on his face, the same gentle song echoing through the trees from the same birds that scurried about their day nearby. This had been their spot, this bench beside the river. For fifty-three years they had returned every spring to the spot they had first met. Now it had only been him for the last six.

It hurt somewhere deep inside, but it warmed his heart even more as he tried to remember some of the good times that time had swept away. The pictures he held in his memories were growing ever fainter as the years danced by.

He watched the couples walking the river path hand in hand, wishing he had paid more attention to the moments they had spent together while he had had the chance. He smiled as a single tear ran down his cheek and dripped down on the bench filling the furrow of a heart surrounding familiar initials that was carved long ago by a young man who had been quite smitten at the time.

“Another year,” he whispered to himself shaking his head softly. He realized he had been sitting there a very long time as the park lights were on. It was time to go home. Twilight eased into darkness and he drew his scarf tight against the chill evening breeze.

~

~whitefeather: Park Bench
There is something beautiful about the early mornings in the park. The quiet stillness of life waking up. It is here on this bench, I would sit and watch you play. Feeding the ducks small pieces of bread, chasing them and laughing.

If I sit here quietly, I can still hear your giggles… and see the sun shining down on your beautiful cherub face. A golden halo glowing around your hair. Hard to believe you would have been 25 today.

In my darkest times, this place is my sanctuary. With memories of you…

~

~BarTalk: found at twilight

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Writers in Residence:

~BriarRoseEve @WG Bench
Six books embrace the bench in WG’s NE corner. Six by Briar, and we’ll let the one in front will serve as their introduction. Three this week leaves three for next week, dinner and dessert.

Hijacked Bench

skyline canvass rickety wood
staring far into the abyss of
terra bytes and painted pixels
I peppered you today
with conversation
so many thoughts
scattered wild abandoned
now caught
beside you
around you.

Care for a read?
Hijacked bench
invites you.

~

Backstage Romp

Boy you write stars and tarts
windows brimming with
plush toys smirking button eyes glistening
mouth moves smart as
well played cards

But hey I caught one sec
one breath you
turned paused looked
there a pond some black pool swam those
currents eels spawned slick fouled
sucked
feasted on
lovely things
you flicked the taste from sick curled mouth quick
no further sound spent
except to the tune of humor
before lights returned your sweet act resumed

but

I enjoyed the backstage romp.
The love is tender with
no smoke and mirrors just
you. oh

sweet smoky kiss lonely songs play
I think I saw a sad boy laugh

you.

 ~

Short Story

“dance”

i think i slipped
i fell like flowers tossed
marbles spilled
children’s laughs left
somewhere
in faint memories
but then I found
a gentle hand
and flowers turned
to lush gardens
and marbles changed
to childhood games
and the faint laughs
to something real:

a thousand smiles
of yours

“worry”

may i laugh
like cannons shot
a hundred firecrackers
set off in blaze
and spice
a steady roll of
rivers thrown
over cool stone
a dozen
bubbles blown
and burst
at once

can i stumble
break free
find somehow
a silly tune
and sing in spite
of flaming notes
dancing on
these shying cheeks

should i not turn
away
when music plays
a song i love

i found a candy
how sweet

and forgot
it

somewhere
where i will not
find again

“ghost”

this place
i knew before
lay bare, exposed
the light struck dead
where shadows played

i saw
cigarettes
the smoke that filled
a cold clear night
gasped away

i heard whispers
a laugh, a grin
some dance, a tale
spain thirty years ago

short story:
the band was gone.

~

~whitefeather: @Passages of Time

Passages of Time

In my lost memories,
pictures decay

White walls slowly,
fade into grey

A passage through life,
minutes drift

Time’s passing heartbreak,
youth’s beauty does forsake

Mirror’s reflection,
now wrinkled, and bent

Time overtakes like a flood,
pitch black

Death’s silent emptiness,
“tick tock, tick tock”

Does eternity greet with elation,
or dubious devastation

My soul,
like a bird caged in the sky

Whispers of passing time,
a mocking cry

…waiting for me

~ . ~