sadness of seduction

Written for Music Prompt #2: Italian Leather Sofa (Cake). The music prompt is skillfully in the hands of Vagrant Rhodia.

1363881258i1taf
listen up

And, a welcome to the MMLM “family” of prompsters. A riff on the song lyrics. Sorta.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

sadness of seduction

cold leather never warms

to touch

ache of knowing

isolation of island

of wanting

that which is ephemeral

not lodged in heart

silkiness of seduction

fingers freeze, breath in moans

tongue caught on steeliness of heart

pain of ripping flesh away

to absolute isolation

to absolution from

crimes of lust and misspent passion

sadness of seduction

silkiness of skin

coldness of leather to

touch

a warmness never felt within

@phylor 2015

layers

enter-the-forest-of-dreamsrs1[1]

Enter the forest of dreamers

Written for Tale Weaver #24: Goodnight Mrs. Calabash, Wherever You Are.

Shake off the nightmare; leave the screechy spiky creatures behind. Wind gently stirs white curtains. Wait. No window sill set in that wall. Have no white curtains. Wake up.

Open my eyes. Back in my bed. Back in my room. I scan the space around me. When did a dark stained 5 drawer begin snuggling into the corner? Close my eyes.

Silvery flash of my reflection in the mirror, ashen, shaking. Small, antique-framed water colour paintings should splash against the wallpaper.

Orangey-yellows suffuse the room. Richly polished and carved wood bedframe of filigreed ivy and winter-bare branches gleams dawn.

Wake up. Wake up. Slide out of bed. Feet pad across cool wooden floor. Turn worn china door knob. This is not my door, but a door to terror. Outside this door waits my nightmare.

Trapped between last night and this morning. Caught in moon-set and dawn-rise.

Pace the room, taking inventory. Window frame lilac, curtains mauve. Low chest of drawers a haunted gray. Metal bedframe painted chocolate brown. Tarnished brass door knob. I can breathe again. Close my eye lids tight, just in case, . . . .

I experience layered dreams. In borderline rooms, I find objects that shouldn’t be there; unfamiliar positioning of windows and doors. The number of layers shifts; the transmuted rooms altered in various ways. “Layers” is a composite of such dreams.

gone but never forgotten

800px-2009-0605-Ilanaaq-2010Oly-Whistler[1]

Inuksuk* (Whistler, Vancouver Olympics 2010)

My brother-in-law passed at 5:30 am (Pacific time) on Monday, July 27, 2015.

He was aware of his world until the last night. He joined in conversations with a joke and a smile.

I cherish my memories of him.

Each person whose life he touched, carries a piece of him in their hearts and memories.

Here’s to a life well spent. Good-bye. You are gone from this world, but never will be forgotten.

* In Inuit (and other Artic Circle languages), inuksuk translates into “something which acts for or performs the function of a person.” Traditionally, for example, inuksuk indicated a point of reference, travel route, or spiritual place.

Now the inuksuk symbolizes a variety of attributes, as adopted by non-Artic Circle society/culture. “I was here. I am me. Peace. Understanding/compassion.”

I use the inuksuk to embody “My brother-in-law was here.”

hairylove.com

Barbara Beacham’s Mondays Finish the Story, July 27, 2015. Barbara invites us to “finish the story” with a piece of flash. She provides the image prompt and the opening sentence. We take it from there.

“He thought he found the perfect hiding spot.”

Trouble was those glowing green eyes. Even with corrective contact lens, he stood out in the crowd. People might accept his hirsuteness, those eyes were just too much.

Feeling self-conscious, he often hid in the circular turret in his apartment. This personality disconnect lead to his chewing his talons, a nasty habit.

“I need a girl friend, he figured, “Some one who will cherish me just as I am.”

He logged into his personal account on Hairylove.com. Several women indicated they liked his profile, and would love to chat. He found a place where he was wanted. In fact, desired. {word count: 100}