Thursday, October 28, 2010

Magpie Tales # 38 All I Have to Say

Many years my bones have lain here among the roots.
Their tangled nerves, where they have penetrated
my wooden shroud, brush my face.

The worms, the ants, the gophers
keep me company in my long sentinel,
tucked tightly into the grit.

Above, scoundrels topple
the witness to my name and days.
Cries of glee mock that soon embracing fate.

Do not be afraid, I want to say.
It is not what you think, this long journey.
This fling into the universal void is not dark, but light.

Thursday, October 21, 2010

Magpie Tales untitled fragment #2 A Fable

drew on my sweater and slipped my feet into my sandals. My room was on the top floor of a tall tower. The stairs descended in a narrow spiral. The steps were old and worn from the many feet that descended before me.

Down, down, down I crept. Impossible to hurry. Somewhat dizzying. Think Jimmy Stewart in Vertigo. When I at last reached the foyer, immediately I faced myself. Two doors made of large mirrors stood sentinel. The guardians at the gate.

I ran my hands around the wooden door frame, searching for a knob. Nothing. I pressed my hands and then the full force of my body against the mirrors. Nothing. Unlike Alice, I could not find my way through the glass. No surprise. I had tried to leave at least 10.5 times before and never found the magic words or key to unlock the doors.

I stood back and stared at my self. A thin, gray-haired aging hippie dressed in a patchwork skirt and black turtleneck that had lost its spring. Cloisonne earrings dangled against my cheek, my face looked haggard and pale. The small rose tattoo on my left ankle was barely discernible.

"Let me out, " I whispered to the guardians. I tempted them with the wad of dollar bills I carried in my skirt pocket. I danced. I sang. I told a joke. The mirrors merely reflected back my inadequacy. In frustration I......

Scroll down to read the first fragment of this fable. Click here to read other Magpie Tales written using the mirror photo as a prompt.

Friday, October 15, 2010

Magpie Tales untitled fragment

I cant remember how it all started, it was so long ago. I simply know I awoke one day and it was as if I wore blinders. All about me was darkness, I seemed to be in some great stone structure, a castle at best. A prison at worst.

I arose from my cot and flung open the heavy wooden shutters. My eyes blinked at the light. Below, I heard a thunderous sound, as of waves upon the shore and from the trees the sharp call of some mysterious creature whether bird or beast I was not certain. My impulse was to slam shut the shutters and retreat again into the dark, safe and unknowing. Silent and self-absorbed.

But as I looked below onto the barren ground I saw a child, dressed in white with long, russet tresses. She was calling to me, though her words were carried away on the wind before I could capture them. She beckoned and then turned away, running as children will over the hillock and toward the forest beyond.

I sat for a moment on the edge of my cot and pondered. And here it was. Simple and clear. Would I choose the dark comfort of my chamber or would I face the challenge of the light and the child calling me. Would I clamber down the narrow wooden stairs and draw open the heavy brass-studded door. I was not one to make hasty decisions, but soon the child would be out of sight if she was not already. Perhaps impossible to follow. I drew my fingers through my hair, rubbed my face roughly, and……..

this is not complete in itself but perhaps the beginning of a story. Forgive the language but I am reading The Historian. Such language is catching. See more Magpie Tales written using above photo as a prompt.

Thursday, October 7, 2010


dedicated to Blue Sky Dreaming and her accepting autumn series


First, a Hansa yellow morning sky
then, on the drive home, a rainbow.

The too sweet taste of Pistachio meringue.
A whiff of fear.

Hair falling to the floor, snip, snip.
Rustling leaves drifting: a gypsy whirl.

This birthday gives pause. This one.
Both feet in autumn now.

What was thought known is now unknown.
I am solitary, banished, exiled.
Bare and thin, my branches face the chill.

Your winter fire will warm me.

Read more writing on this week's theme at Magpie Tales.