A dry spell...

abandoned farm, Dublin, Ohio

Raking the stillness
I leant on hope
watching memory gravels
clogging my rusty desires
and I fell on a lost trail
wounding my pride.
I yearn for warmth
of a woolen caress
to smooth wrinkled needs.
I search sunshine
in the blazing wet spirits
burning my feisty soul
I hear a cough
from mislaid wishes
mowing at wry silence
I believe it is
a momentary interlude
trespassing my life
I trust it will pass
with the rolling wheel of time
into a new dawn
bringing shimmer of faith.
~ET 06/09/2011

Written for Magpie tales #81.I tampered with the brightness of the pic,my apologies! Do visit other takes on this prompt:)

Do people really change with time?

unidentified photo, found in a Missouri antique shop

as shared by Tess at Magpie tales

It was a hot July afternoon. Hitting the 3rd bottle of Heineken from ice box, he wiped sweat from his forehead on his upturned sleeve. What is it with summers? First you wait for them to come by and when they do, you can’t seem to wait for them to get over.

Okay Jeff! Just one more plank and the deal is over. Stop grumbling! He cuffed himself mentally.

Keeping the bottle aside, as he was working on the last plank he remembered summers weren’t always so grumpy. In fact, as a child he never felt the heat of it. Along with three of his friends he used to have a lot of fun in summers. They had their own Fantastic Four version, scooping around the small town looking for trouble. He grinned at the things they sometimes found out. Folks here were scared of them especially during summers when schools were off and the fantastic four were let loose. Moreover, July was a special month to him because it was his birthday month. He used to rule their group for an entire day with no school, no studies, lots of cake, many surprise gifts & just pure fun.

Lost in his thoughts, he hammered the nail by mistake on his thumb.
With an Ouch! and serious cursing he was brought back from flash back.
Silently appraising his work he jumped down the last tree step he just plugged in.

There! It looks good. It could use one more coat of paint.

He had been working on the tree house which the four of them had built and battered. All his friends long gone their separate ways were coming in town a week later and he wanted to give them a big surprise by bringing back some of their memories. He was considering about that paint job, rubbing at the back of his neck, when a car honked from behind him. It didn’t register him instantly that the honking was for him as he was spaced out again with his mind imagining the dumbfounded faces of his friends when they see their tree house again. Screeching tootle of the car then pierced through his thoughts and he winced as he turned around.

Surprise. Surprise. Surprise.

Three voices screamed simultaneously from the car.

Holy shit! What are you guys doing here? Jeff yelled as he ran towards the car.

Emma all but shrieked

Hap Hap Happy Birthday Jeffie boy!

Just the way she always used to wish him. Behind her Erick was smiling widely.
From the front seat, Ella whistled wolfishly.

Speechless as he saw his three friends beaming at him, he wondered did anybody ever get over their childhood?

***Written for Magpie Tales #79. Have a look and enjoy some refreshingly nice takes on the prompt!

Such is life....

Image by Tess as

shared at Magpie tales

Jane stepped on the front porch of her little cottage. She hadn’t seen Robin all day, but she was too tired to think about her 5year old. Juggling her newborn, Kierra, from one hip to other she searched for the keys in her purse.

If only her husband was still alive, he would have been there with her all along.
In a moment of helplessness, soothing her restless baby, she dropped the keys on the door mat. Cursing under her breath, with every ounce of her strength she retrieved them.
Three bloody stitches, big ones all paining at the same time. How is somebody expected to manage them singlehandedly all at once was getting beyond her.
But she got Kierra out of it, she smiled.

She opened the door and stood for a whole minute to look around.
Where are you Robin? What are you up to?

Placing her bags by the door, trying to ignore her empty stomach, she went straight to Robin’s room. As expected he was not there.
She dragged herself to the adjacent room, once a parlor, was now turning into a store room. It was locked from inside. She knocked and called out.

Robin, are you in there? Mama’s home, sweetie.

Coming said a muffled voice.
The door slowly opened and she was spellbound.

All messed up, Robin was standing there and beaming at them. The room was painted with a big welcome note in wobbly words, for his kid sister. Sparkles on every free surface and a small table in the middle of the room with small candles and clumsily put together peanut-butter-lettuce sandwiches and baby bottle of milk and whole jug of lemonade.

Tears in her eyes, her faith in God rekindled!

Written for Magpie tales #78. Have a look at other lovely takes on the prompt.

Cold Summer Evening…

Summer Evening, Edward Hopper, 1947

It was happening, after months of waiting, it was happening.
She thought of the time she had patiently wasted. On him.
To adjust and to adapt to his whims and ways.
10 years, 2 months and 14 days, but who was counting?
And she was weak in math, but she managed the counting.

She could have been anywhere at this moment, enjoying a drink at
the pub down the street or having her shop in the countryside.
For crying out loud, she could have been happily married and would
have been enjoying a mid summer make out on the portico on a quiet farm.

But she was here, she had to be here.
How couldn’t she be here after spending so much time scheming to get to him?
She almost choked at her resentment.

Any minute, and she knew, he will kneel down and say it.
He will give her that warm knowing smile, waiting for her obvious yes.

But did she want this? Want him? After all this time?
After all her sacrifices?
She had to make a quick decision before he said those words.
And she made her choice, love for him overwhelmed her.

A hand on his heart, he said those words. Some words.
She was dumbstruck.

I am getting married. Waiting a beat. To your sister.
I finally asked her, today.
And he smiled.
She shivered.

Blind-folded or blind-fooled in love, she still remembered that mid-summer night.
******
Written for Magpie Tales #77. Thank you Tess, for that excellent prompt.

Hidden secrets

This one is for Magpie Tales. Have a look at the amazing takes on this prompt from fellow bloggers.

Image by Skip Hunt
as shared at Magpie Tales

It was getting quite dark outside; she couldn’t see clearly through the mess.
She reached out for the last box and gave up. It was too dark to make out its contents.
With a grunt she stood up and searched for the switch.

It had to be somewhere around here.

Cursing a little, she started feeling her way through the clutter in her basement. Finally her hand hit the switch and light poured in the damp and dirty basement.

That’s when she saw the discarded rusty fan lying in the far corner of the room, on the floor. Along with the rust she saw the fan tinted with lot of yellow patches.
She went closer to get a better look at it.
Squinting, she picked it up. Scraping the little patch, she tried to smell it.

Hmm.
So this is where her jelly beans and orange gumdrops went. Her missing candies have been coming down here, been devoured by sticky-hands. She was sure the culprits were her 4 year old twins.

Boxes forgotten, she stomped her way up to the nursery.

Just me and Just you.....

Caught up in my book of memories
with every turn of these crunchy pages
I recall each solitary moment
we spent in cradle of happiness

A nudge here, a kick there
a grin for shared private joke,
a wink for a stolen coke,
a hug for euphoric madness,
a lunatic day of total shoplift,
a panic on burnt food
- nothing to eat,
a joint cry on onion peel
or was it a combined cry for no from him?

A shout on unruliness,
an understanding silence,
a push for confidence,
a pull of remembrance,
a dance in new outfits,
a whisper on heard tidbits,
a fight with wooden spoons,
a drink on twilight moons,
a prank on ungrateful neighbor,
a gossip of hard day’s labor;
-each page gracefully enfolds
an album of reminiscences

I challenged that sky
with the vastness of my joy
when I found a hand to hold
with a heart of gold
Friends better entwined than us
God kept them for himself
For you are my closest friend
And I am yours, too
We're stuck to each other
Just me and just you

Running temperature and mind!

The other day, I was taking a walk, now I don't know why I was walking in the middle of an afternoon with the sun sparing not even a slightest thought to me...but after walking some I was thirsty, sweaty and tired..You get the picture, right?
So I leaned against a tree trying to compose myself...I did not notice it at first, may be my sweat was winning over rational thinking...But I noticed, rather felt, after sometime that the bark was warm at a particular spot...rest all was cool against my burning skin.
A normal person should think that somebody might have just left this very spot, doing just exactly what I was doing...
But thinking of the thoughts that crossed my mind then, they were really funny...err, quite foolish actually...
My first thought, am I leaning against a ghost leaning against this tree? Couldn't have been more absurd...Wait listen to the second one...is something going on inside the tree at this very spot? N seriously, wait and read on...next I started looking up if there was a gap in those thick leafy braches, that the sun rays were burning up this spot... Well, this could have been a good one unless goddamn it! why wasn’t I feeling those sunburns if I was leaning at that very spot….Okay I won't mention the next one...it's pretty lame...if you have't already labeled me with that, that is...
After a few minutes of total insanity, my sulking consciousness gave me mental kick and I stopped gawking at the tree so suspiciously...I was attracting quite a few curious looks from the audience gathering around...humph...A nosy audience always brings you back to reality, I guess, a staring one especially...
I tried to shoo away my convoluted thoughts and excused myself and practically ran away from the spot...
Later, I was told by an ever-enthusiastic friend of mine that a duffer created a ruckus down the lane. I thought it best not to mention who the duffer was!!!

P.S.: I stopped taking afternoon strolls…They are truly injurious to my mind!!!
P.P.S: How does one wel-come summer? well I just did...

An affair with emotions….

Late one night I sat down thinking about different expressions on the faces passing by and mused at their trigger points. I zeroed down to emotions and this was what I came up with...

Ever seen that vast sea-
Still water& bustling waves
Ever seen that cosmic sky-
Burning sun & serene rainbow
I have dissolved velvety memories in this sea
spewed dwindling thoughts into this sky

I have been the needle that stitches its prick
I have been the wick that melts its candle
I have been vulnerable & quivering
-coy silence on sensuous red lips
I have been mushy juicy cherry
-crushed between tangled tongue licks

I have felt sovereignty
of a bird set out of its cage
Free to fly-
I have felt confinement
of the trap of his arms
me ready to comply –

I have been pleased like the stray string
Just freed from a windblown tousled hair
I have been content like the clay
Secured in a thick pricey ware

I have been transparent like
black on white love letter
-from gramps to granny
I have been mysterious like
black dreamy almond eyes
-his martini’s ignominy

I have had the imprint of my gold band
-dint of thirty years
I have had the mark from a winning dive
-dent from jolly peers

I have been drunk for the losing goalie
-Had a thing for him
I have been drunk for crossing finishing line
-Got a kiss from him

I have been caught unawares
By a graze from a hurrying stranger
I have been lured into awareness
By a flick of robe over my shoulders

I have banged my head
For a yes to an on-the-knee proposal
Words stuck somewhere-
I have banged my head
For a song strummed on my guitar
Words blurred somewhere-

I have ached
for the lost Men in white,
on a lonely stormy night,
for the mother in labor,
for a birdie at mercy of a fowler .
I have missed
My mamma’s pat, bro’s smack
A dad’s high-five, my friend’s spank.
I have been perplexed
confusion rolling with the pen between my fingers
uncertainty potent in my weary cringers.

Cursed them, blessed them
Wished them, missed them
Emotions have played mayhem
pushed my mind aside, clogged my thoughts
pressed my heart tight , caressed my feelings
Emotions have nudged life
in my momentary existence,
in my fleeting subsistence.