Lily

        

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            Fluttering and billowing
                   in the breeze,
                   a bevy of lilies;
                     awaiting ~
                  beauty’s sting.

Submission – Microfiction Award

The IV  Edition of International Award (Museum of Words) for Microfiction is open for submission.

The competition first prize is $20,000 for the best short story.

All entries will be evaluated by an international jury of great prestige, and the finalist’s stories will be published.

A maximum of two stories per person of no more than 100 words each, should be submitted from the following link:

http://www.museodelapalabra.com/en/short-tales-contest/4-edition/participation-form

If you are interested enter the following code in your participation form : 23689

The Morning-After

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       as daylight ushered in
           the morning-after
              all promises made
           in the heat of the
                     moment
                 now smothered
             by the heat of our
                       passion ~
         we watched helplessly as
            their crumpled fragments
                   ascended in the
                            beam

Womanhood, an honor!

Originally posted on Purplerays:

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Photo credit: “Return To Eden” on Facebook

“We are women, and my plea is Let me be a woman, holy through and through, asking for nothing but what God wants to give me, receiving with both hands and with all my heart whatever that is.”
― Elisabeth Elliot

Source: https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/tag/womanhood?page=1

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Shade of Blue

Underneath this same
shade of blue,
I made houses
of sand and sticks,
boxes and weeds;
stuffed doll
strapped on my back
with mother’s head-tie.
I played house with
friends and siblings
pots of cans
soup of mushrooms
and water leaves
I watched ants
appeared and disappeared
into tiny holes.
I played hide and seek
in the open yard,
rain or sunshine
jumping ropes
and climbing trees.
I smiled and cheered
without reservation.
I sobbed and wailed
when sad or hurt
no shame or pretence.
I miss my younger self.

What Lies On Distant Shores

Originally posted on Black and Write:

What lies on distant shores,

Buckets, pigeon holes, troughs for segregation.

Language, dress, birthplace do not an enemy make.

Where came this bitter misdirection?

Religion, culture, song, dance,

These are things of man’s creation.

Strip naked man and woman–

Lay them bare of their mortal inventions.

Confiscate their language, dress, birthplace,

Expropriate their religion, culture, song, dance,

Take all they have of this world;

What have they left?

Blood and skin and bone;

That which crumbles with inevitable death.

Hopes and dreams, emotions;

intangibles that define humanness.

Air, food, water, shelter;

That which sustains us.

Boundaries of man hold no sway over these.

We are but one species,

Born and consumed in life,

Until the day we return home

To the dust from whence we came.

 

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

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