Counting down the hours, minutes, and seconds was painful
Letting my emotions swing back and forth, back and forth, twisting my gut in knots
Observing how life seems to move in slow motion making breathing difficult
Can’t seem to make those hands spin any faster, even if I stare so hard at the thing I go blind
Killing time sounds like it would be easy, but now I realize time is killing me instead
Crunchy salty goodness played footsies with his tongue
Relishing in the dulcet bass tones with each bite
It made getting his fingers greasy so worth it
Still he wiped his hands on his pants before grabbing his Coke
Putting slick hands on a wet can could mean instead of drinking it he would be wearing it
Once the ritual words were uttered
And the two men spat in their palms and shook hands
Then the pact was sealed as witnessed by those around
How such a silly contrivance made something binding made her head spin
Growing rows of amber waved in the hot wind
Reaching for one of the sheathes, she pulled the kernels free
And rubbed them against each other in her hands, freeing the seeds from their husks
It released a wonderful smell of summer turning toward fall
Nodding she walked back to the farmhouse. Tomorrow they would harvest.
So, I haven’t posted here for a couple of days
Of course, I hate when that happens
Really, I wanted to post, but I was burning the candle at both ends
Reaching a point where the words would not come
You can be assured I am sorry and will try to do better in the future.
And now a bonus poem/story…
She wanted to tell him she had been wrong in what she did
Or maybe not quite wrong, but maybe more mistaken
Reaching out, she cupped his cold face with her hands
Ready to finally apologize for what she had done
Yet she couldn’t though since he was already dead
She held the knife in two hands like a samurai sword.
Looking at the watermelon, her sworn enemy, she bowed her head.
It was going to be a battle to the death, but she didn’t feel like dying tonight!
Cutting deftly, the watermelon never had a chance and soon it was bleeding chunks on her counter.
Extremely happy with herself, she popped a piece in her mouth and spit out the seeds.
Think, therefore I am was his favorite idiom
He held onto it with both hands, never letting it go
Others gave up and allowed themselves to become fleshy robots
Under the guise that the need for money was above all
Given that option himself, he rejected to play along
He kept generating new and different mental creations to escape their drudgery
That was why he was gone when they finally came to imprison him for his ideas
Give me it all! I won’t leave anything behind.
Really, I am going to horde it all
Every single piece I can get my hands on
Everyone else might think that is obsessive
Doesn’t stop me, I think they’re just jealous
You think others really need chocolate? Nope, it’s all mine!
Many hands make the chore light
And that was his philosophy through life
Reaching out with his hands to help all those he could
Keeping to this up even as he passed, so many came to celebrate him, it made his passing easier.
When the hands swept past noon
All eyes were drawn to the two men standing in the street
Today only one of them would walk away
Capping a monumental story of conflict between two protagonists
High above, the bells chimed out, punctuated by two percussive blasts, and then dead silence
Abdi Mohammed
The Art of Prose and Poetry
self-publishing
Sarah Torribio and her right brain. Music. Musings. Writing. Style.
We Survived and Arrived - Now as Warriors We Thrive
With previous posting of "Our World" on Blogger
Sharing is Learning
AUTHOR
Random Stuff I Think You'll Like
Things I love, typically with people I love. Will likely be hiking, baking, and doing other things that make me happy.
The Official Home of Rolli - Author, Cartoonist and Songwriter
Wise. Witchy. Wonderful.
Story world
Never Short On Words 