Writing Prompt

Oh, snowy village nestled in the mountains,

Your rooftops glisten with the winter’s grace,

Teach us the patience of your quiet dawns,

And the joy found in each gentle snowflake’s embrace.

In your humble streets,

where the lights do twinkle,

Guide us to cherish the warmth of home’s glow,

Where love and laughter fill every nook,

And hearts are kind,

despite the cold.

Your evergreen trees, ...

TW: Christian theme. Such is the prompt.

——✝️——

The LORD is mine refuge,

mine place of security

His structure gleams

with a thousand shields

of bronze and Leviathan’s hide

He is mine fortress, mine respite,

mine tower of steadfast stone,

immovable and stoic against

the siege of mine enemies.

His walls mock the hands of man,

shatter the limbs of Hades,

tarnish the eyes of all fell angels.

...

LORD You have consumed this people.

By Your mighty right hand,

This people has been broken.

Return us, oh my God, to the ground on which we stand.

I beseech you, bring the end.

Israel has returned to the high places,

Each tribe praising foreign faces.

Inhale the Spirit you breathed into us.

LORD, please return us to the dust.

I lament over her.

I lament over us.

I lament all of this.

...

A workplace

A dining room

Storage facility

And private library

My shuttle, my shelter, my solace

Ride on

though your front left is capriciously low

Coffee splashed blazons your dash

Bumper love taps, mementos of lessons learned

Ride on

Parking garages be your nemeses

Crushed seltzers carpet your floor

Phone holders will fail at the less opportune time

Ride on

Noble chariot

Through thick ...

Do you see the infinite possibilities,

Reflected in a beach of glass.

An illusion of reality

Washing away, like a mask.

Do you hear my call for silence

Brought forth upon crashing waves,

Bringing you to stillness

In a mind that’s always crazed.

Do you pause upon the open sand

Waiting to be consumed.

All marks of history soon erased

Time slipping through your hands.

Do you hear the lessons t...

Sit-still sun;

A luxury,

Given gradient grays that

So often grace these solemn skies;

Pacific peoples preferring

Precipitation for the

Green greens and

Emerald trees.

Population—Portland’s

Promiscuous gift—

Grants a permanent schism:

Social-science study of

Predominant socio-political

Preferences,

Geared toward utopia;

Feared for faulty

Propaganda.

All of this slips furtively

From my mind as...

God is dead

Take me down

Into the ground

I'll be waiting there

With a stone around my neck

Where my body lays

Stuck in the dark

The deeper I go

The more I believe

God is dead

My blood runs slow

My body's old

But I can feel the sky

On my skin again

And the time is right

For feeling good

It's such a lovely way to spend my time...

any library worth the land it

stands on will prove one thing;

there are more words in it than can be

read in one lifetime;

more books to be consumed;

knowledge to always be sought after,

shared & reshaped.

if you think your story unworthy of being told,

trust

there is room still

for whatever you will write....

Around every corner, a ghost

In this town.

Familiar, creeping, knowing

Invading the unknowing mind with memory and being.

It grabs hold, forcing surrender.

Impossible to see a corner

And not see the apparition lurking in it.

There: that afternoon, the bright sun, the patio, laughter and then…

Here: a woman scuffles forward on the sidewalk, pulling her belongings in a broken-down cart; you know...

I see people always moving,

Never stopping

Never looking around but only

Straight ahead

Some are crying for help while some are

Silently suffering

Surrounded by the cold, hard walls of buildings

Towering over

Shadows slowly creep over hope from the

Dying day

I see people stumbling home in a

Drunken haze

Always moving and never looking, always hoping

To escape

These towering buildings that k...