How I Happened Upon TheProse.com
I was looking for contests. I have been writing since I was able to, but my mom didn't want me to enter my work into any contest because she didn't want anyone to "steal" my work. So, when I became eighteen, I realized that I was no longer restricted by this rule. She didn't discourage me, but she warned that if anyone "stole" my ideas, I shouldn't come crying back to her.
Well, the idea of someone "stealing" my ideas isn't TOO FAR FETCHED, but it was kinda absurd. How else will I share my work with the world? She wanted me to copyright everything first. But copyrighting costs money. Plus, I (being the perfectionist that I am) didn't want to copyright a lot of halfway done pieces and random whacky words that hardly make sense with no context. And, I have several stories in my head that aren't quite written down, and the ones that I've begun to write are nowhere near completion. I am constantly editing them, so how much money would I be out of trying to copyright it all?
Now, my mom means well, and I understand her concern, but I believe that the benefits of sharing outweigh the cons. So, I went on a kick where I was entering every single writing contest I could find. And, in my search of these, I came across a site that mentioned theprose.com. They advertised monthly contests with cash prizes. That's why I arrived. But, when I got here, I discovered an awesome community of writers. I discovered that the just-because contests were just as or even more fulfilling than the ones that offered prizes. I discovered a place where I could read awesome things by others, and I could share my own work.
I stood by for a while not posting anything. But, when I finally decided to post something, I just couldn't stop.
I'm so happy I found this place!
Residue
I miss you.
Winter mornings
Cold lace skin and hot red heart
Snowflakes stuck on mittens
Building hollow castles and
Melting in the snow
Face flushed, brushed by the
Falling sky
Winter nights
Blankets heaped
Warm cocoa memory on teeth
Packed all around with snow
Drifting off to sleep
Once more
Summer days
Sticky popsicle fingers
Sinking into the sky and
Running
Tearing up the emptiness
Delicately
Summer nights
Stars hung from strings
When just to be under them was
Enough
Covering up the quiet with
Soft sheets
Autumn came, like always
But the crispness to the air was
Missing, left behind in the confines
Of whatever place
Was holding you
Slipping in and out of days
Listlessly
The brilliance filled our teacups to the brim
But now it has been drunk
You could never have said,
I miss you, too.
All Things End
The canary died. There was running and screaming and light and dark. But before the bird died there was work. There was my father covered in soot. There was my father with lungs black with smoke. Lungs so caked with coal dust that with the right amount of pressure they’d turn precious and glittering. Instead, abused and worked to their limit. Unable to fill fully. Over worked and underpaid. There was my father with the bird and a light. His boots and a pick. There was the bird golden and slight. A beacon underground. There was my father and a bird and their last, gasping breaths buried underground. Lost between the light and the dark.
Heroes
... aren’t born
and never made to order.
No demands can be made
of man or woman
to act or react.
When truth’s moment arrives
in the hardest of times
real hero’s emerge
real hero’s disappear
until the next time.
No, they aren’t born.
They aren’t made to order.
They just are.
*****
This is dedicated to all those who lost their lives on 911 and for all the responders who sacrificed their time to do the very best they could. To all those on United Airlines Flight 93, who, in giving up their lives to do the right thing, that other lives unknown to them would continue.
The video is by Alan Jackson ... https://youtu.be/gPHnadJ-0hE
If you care to, the following link will take you to where you can read every name that was involved with 911 who died.
https://stgvisie.home.xs4all.nl/List-of-Passengers-911.html
... and to all of you who come to read, comment, like/repost and so forth, know it is appreciated, but when 9/11 arrives, take a few moments to remember.
Direction
Lack of clarity at my workplace it haunts me.
My voice isn’t clear because it is silenced under dominance.
My actions go unnoticed because I don’t have a bachelors degree.
My ideas are undermined and said to be a waste of time.
My self-esteem dies every time I place a foot in the office.
My confidence it hides under negative comments.
I’ve always loved a challenge...
Even if it meant sacrificing my personal values; to understand another’s.
But I found that giving a part of myself is like selling my soul to the devil. However, I acknowledge my mistakes and continue to be the positive one with the smile on my face.
I’m human and I break.
I feel and I can relate.
Nevertheless, I am the office punching bag.
I can’t sustain the smiles forever.
Struggling to stay above water.
I can feel extreme sadness.
Starting to feel like throwing in the towel, Is the only option.
I’m afraid, I’ve lost all my confidence.
My employer has a way with words;
Each one is like a bullet straight into my nerves.
I can’t make this work, but I’m afraid I’m stuck because I don’t know what I’m worth.