by Naomi L. | October 11, 2013 | J.C. Wolfe's Writing, Poetry |
I’m lying in his arms.
The world is gone.
It’s just the two of us.
As I lay with my head to his chest,
I feel his heartbeat.
Mine grows faster.
I hear his slow breathing.
My breathing quickens.
I sense him drifting off to sleep.
And I smile as I let him.
Such passion…
Such pleasure…
How did I come to be here?
Even now, I can’t recall
How fortune delivered me
Into his arms.
Fate has smiled kindly at me.
I sense his heartbeat growing calm.
His breathing is slow and steady.
His eyes are closed.
With a racing heart,
Rapid breathing,
And a bright smile,
I turn to face him.
I lean forth
And softly kiss his chest.
I raise my head
And gently kiss his neck.
I raise myself a little higher
And sweetly kiss his cheek.
Then I lean in close to his ear,
And while he dreams peacefully,
I whisper my confession,
My reality, to him…
“I love you.”
by Naomi L. | October 4, 2013 | Flash Fiction, J.C. Wolfe's Writing |
When Nadine moved to her new home with her parents in September, the wall was a plain blank white, yet to be touched by the artistic vision of a timid young girl seeking refuge from the world in the creative space of her basement.
In October, a month after starting at her new school, Nadine found she was still having trouble making friends. Shy and in fear of the school year to come, she descended into the basement one afternoon to stroke the wall with a thin paintbrush in little streaks across an array of grays, the palette the other students saw when they looked at her.
In November, Nadine finally engaged in conversation with a few other girls in her homeroom class. Her new hope of friendship found a place on the wall as light brushstroke patterns of daisy yellow.
In December, the cute boy Nadine often admired from a distance approached her after a Math exam. She went home still blushing profusely over Alex’s interest in her, and her wall was later decorated with bubbles of bright carnation pink.
In January, Alex invited Nadine to join him on the floor at the winter dance. Her heart still fluttering as the music echoed in her ears, Nadine twirled before the wall that night while sweeping wide strokes of royal purple over it.
In February, Alex told Nadine that, although she was a nice girl, he wasn’t looking to pursue a relationship. Heartbroken over her shattered hope, she spent that evening crying through her finger-painting of drooping midnight blue waves down the wall.
In March, Nadine saw Alex kissing a cheerleader in the hallway between classes. Though she showed no reaction at school, she stormed into her basement that afternoon to hurl water balloons filled with scarlet red paint at the wall.
In April, Nadine walked past Alex and his new girlfriend holding hands as they made their way to American History. Still she said nothing, but she took time out of that late afternoon to fleck the wall with bright spots of poison green.
In May, the girls with whom Nadine had been slowly forming a friendship spent their lunch break consoling her and reassuring her that Alex was the one missing out on a great relationship. She continued to keep her emotions to herself in school, but her renewed enthusiasm drove her to spend time later that day painting bright orange bands over the gloomier colors on the wall.
In June, Nadine’s friend Amanda knocked on her front door, intent on returning the yearbook carelessly forgotten on the bus. The man who answered the door directed the visitor downstairs, where his daughter was busy channeling her creative energy. It was only when Amanda entered the basement and saw Nadine draped in a paint-stained poncho before a colorful wall that the truth finally came to light: beneath the deceptive palette of grays was a beautiful rainbow.
by Naomi L. | September 27, 2013 | J.C. Wolfe's Writing, Poetry |
Visions of beauty are they.
Open petals,
Vivid colors,
Strong leaves.
In full bloom,
In the prime of their life,
They are her pride and joy.
She smiles at their beauty.
She speaks highly of their blooms,
Coloring her home
And bringing light into her world.
Such beautiful flowers
Are her beloved orchids.
But what would flowers be
Without a caretaker?
Their petals would droop.
Their colors would fade.
Their leaves would wilt.
The very life in them would vanish
Into the memory
Of an ephemeral spring.
For it is she who provides comfort,
She who waters them,
She who talks to them,
And she who urges them to live.
They would be nothing
Without her care,
Without her encouragement,
Without her affection.
The orchids may be
The most beautiful flowers,
But they owe their life to her
For her nurturing love.
Happy Birthday to my wonderful mother! Thank you for all the love and care you’ve given me my whole life; I wouldn’t be who I am today without you. I love you!
by Naomi L. | September 20, 2013 | J.C. Wolfe's Writing, Poetry |
I feel peace as I walk to the edge of my world. The sun on my face, the wind in my hair, the smell of salty air, everything about this place calms me.
Winter is the best time of year to visit. Not a soul in sight, I can relax and be alone with my thoughts. A bird flies overhead, my spirit riding the breeze along with it. I smile as it disappears beyond the horizon. I’m content just to dream that I could follow. This is my sanctuary.
Out there, I’m a stranger, playing a part in a story that isn’t mine. There, I’m stuck in one place. But here, I am myself. At the brink of the other world, I can breathe and laugh and sing to my heart’s content. Here, I am home.
Waves upon the sand
Rolling up and down the shore
Flow out to the sea
Is there anything more peaceful than the sounds of the ocean in the morning? Where the warm earth meets the cool water, my feet stay buried under wet grains as my thoughts drift away over the waves like ships sailing out to explore unknown lands. My body, my mind, my heart, my spirit are one. Tranquility, curiosity, happiness, freedom.
Water clear and blue
And my dreams that flow within
Come and set me free
This piece was my entry for the Haibun Contest recently held by Writer’s Carnival. The rule was to write a poem about any subject as long as it was in the form of a haibun (a Japanese form of poetry that mixes prose and haiku), so I chose to write mine about the experience of visiting the beach in winter. With the contest now over and the winners already announced, I decided to share my piece here on my blog for others to read. Enjoy!
Special thanks to Writer’s Carnival for hosting the contest! It was a lot of fun!
by Naomi L. | September 13, 2013 | Flash Fiction, J.C. Wolfe's Writing |
(What If? Exercise: Read the description here.)
I don’t know what’s wrong. They used to play with me all the time. They used to pat my head and talk to me. Now they don’t look at me at all. What did I do?
Mom looks down, the way I do when I’m sad. She sits in the chair and looks at a bone in her hands. My bone. She knows I like bones. It must be for me. Can I have it? She won’t give it to me. She just stares at it. She just looks sad.
I wag my tail. Please smile, Mom! Look at me! I can take the bone. You don’t have to be sad now. I put my head in her lap. She still won’t move.
Dad comes down the stairs. I walk to him, but he walks right by me. Dad, what did I do? Was I bad?
The girls walk in the room. They have a frame with them. It has small girls just like them in it, and a dog too. They’re all sad when they look at it now. They used to laugh when they saw that frame. Please laugh. I don’t like when you’re sad. I like when you smile and pat my head and scratch my side when I lay down. I like when we run and play and swim. But they don’t want to do that now. I must have been bad.
Wait, I hear my name. What do they say? They all sit on the floor. I walk to them and sit down to hear.
They say they miss me. How can they miss me when I’m right here? They talk of how I was sick and it was hard for me to walk. Was I sick? Now I can walk. Now they talk of when they took me to the vet. Yes, that’s right. My heart hurt, and Mom came to see me. I was still with the vet when it all went dark. So how did I get here?
I know now why they’re sad. I was bad, sort of. I left them when my heart hurt too much. But I came back.
My heart still hurts when I see them all sad. Please, talk of good things. I know I have to make them smile. I walk to the box Mom left on the stand. I try to push it with my nose, and it falls on the floor. The top falls off, and small frames spill out in front of Mom. She gets scared, but Dad picks one up, one with the dog and the girls in the pool. He starts to smile. He starts to laugh.
They all grab a frame. I can see them smile now. I hear them laugh. The frames make them think good things. That’s what I want. I wag my tail, the way I do each time they laugh. I know they’ll be fine. Now they’ll smile when they think of me.
I see a light. I know I have to go to it. Not yet, though. First, I look at them all one more time. Then I lift my head up and bark. I don’t bark much, but I feel I should now. I can tell they heard me. They look up from the frames, and they smile. I walk to each of them and lick their face. I know deep down they can feel me.
I don’t want to leave now, but I have to. Mom, Dad, girls, I will miss you too. Thank you for the life I had with you. I love you all!
This short piece is based on What If? Exercise 52: “Practice Writing Good, Clean Prose”. The exercise is to write a short story using only single-syllable words, the objective being to develop a consciousness of word choice and learn to avoid writing flowery prose. The story I wrote is told from the perspective of a dog who has passed on, but doesn’t realize it until she spends one last day in her family’s presence as a ghost. I hope you enjoy what I’ve written. Thanks for reading!
Dedicated to our beloved family dog, a gentle and loving chocolate Labrador who literally had a big heart. Though she passed away a few years ago, her memory will stay with us forever. We love you, Hershey!
Back to the story
by Naomi L. | September 6, 2013 | Flash Fiction, J.C. Wolfe's Writing |
I thought he loved me.
I thought he’d be mine forever.
I thought he’d grow old with me, keep me company, wait every day for me to come home to him.
And then one day, he left me. For the neighbor. Who gave him something better than I ever could…
She bought him the premium food.
Now I only see him over the fence, growing old and plump with her, keeping her company in her yard, waiting every day on her porch for her to come home to him.
And always reminding me of the day I lost him forever.
From that day on, I swore I’d never love a stray cat again.
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