Prejudice

A mass of children

spin their threads

into a blind web

that drums with power

until

one 

voice

insists,

Think, people!

We 

are

not

the 

same

A combined prompt with picture from Magpie Tales

and words from The Sunday Whirl

shared with Poets United: Poetry Pantry

In Vain

The Sunday Whirl...Wordle

Stalking the naked river
with wings of want
she flies the world
seeking clarity
of plains
void of red
empty of
first blood

Using The Words

Birthed face down was a miracle in itself

But a strong heart beat in this tiny sprout

Far from shore a drizzle began

Turning the future into a ripe silhouette

While lines deepened on faces

That had traveled this path before

The Sunday Whirl

Heather for The Sunday Whirl

She was our foster child, a daughter of the heart, possibly a legal daughter. It was easy for us until it wasn't.

Stop!  Deal with this now, speak to me, please.
The secret is worming through as it rots your soul.  We are not them.

We were wiser but the amber eyes didn't trust nor believe we might be the answer.

No amount of motherly chirping could convince her to be ours.  The screaming of a raptor reached its crescendo and its departure.

There were no happy endings.  She could not believe in that possibility.

Written for The Sunday Whirl Wordle

The Sunday Whirl...Art?

Wordle 171 The Sunday Whirl

Stained
After the hunt
The skill
The thrill
Unfolds again
In my memory

With shallow mind
Hallowed space
Centers me
To dabble
With paint
And reflection

Whacked
Blasts
Of color
Painted image
Revealing
Nothing

by me

Mixing It Up On A Sunday...

Photo by Kelsey Hannah

The strap did not stop in mid swing. 

My thoughts could not suspend

The zip nor the power

Diamond tough

The details of "a lesson"

Broke through the barrier

Tears fell silently

Like a waterfall

While the unit waited

For me to press the pleat

"We must look proper on Sunday."

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, The Sunday Whirl, and The Mag prompts combined.

Thanks for the challenge.

Secrets

The ground held secrets
Shivering  in rows
Packed
With deep roots
Counting time
Mending
Planning to heal
Gathering strength
For the time
They burst forth
With a growl
Knowing secrets
Are never hidden
From Heaven

Written for Poets United  Imagirary Gardens With Real Toads and The Sunday Whirl