On her knees, she reflects on her days up to these moments of her life. Say what they may now – she has earned this. The slurs of her heritage were a weight heavily carried on her back. The vitriol flung her way because of the lower caste into which she was born, a constant susurrus in the back of her mind, no more. The drive to disprove the mocking stereotypes subjected to her kind a crown of thorns that gave cold comfort. Some let the burden of them wear them down. Today she would show a different way to wear those labels – with pride.
She bows her head one last time, as the mantle of the choices that brought her here become a different kind of weight. Lifting her head, she rises from her knees before the vicar with grace, as he proclaims her to all. She begins her life anew with the only appellation that mattered now, Queen.
To what you answer
Will always outweigh the things
To what you are called
The Daily Post : Label
Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt
dVerse ~ Poets Pub: Open Link Night #192
– Painful by Natalia Drepina
Holding onto hope
What it once felt like
I wrap it just a little tighter
But it’s a slippery rope
Trying to cope
With so many sins acquired
Every time I remember
I wrap it just a little tighter
Around the sorrows in which I’m mired
But my hands are getting tired
My soul the garrote
I wrap it just a little tighter
Around my throat
In desire of Charon’s boat
Today at MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie Photo Challenge #145 we are prompted to use above image as inspiration for a poem or short story. This is what came to me.
Nine and seven years
You abandon us here
In this world
Mad with anguish
Skipped to the words
Spoken in hate
Go away and die
Because of him
The need to spite
Than to live for us
Your own daughters
A week before Mother’s Day. Trying to make sense of the senseless. She had been saying for months that if he kept pushing her she’d leave him permanently. We were all praying she would. None of us thought it would be like this. Leaving a note and two daughters.
From some of the comments below I see I need to clarify something. The above poem is from my muse, taking the view point of the two daughters. The pain feels real to you, because it is real to me. This past Monday night/Tuesday morning, I lost a friend, the girls lost a mother to suicide.
dVerse ~ Poets Pub | Quadrille 8: Skip
The Daily Post | Abandoned
Real Toads : The Tuesday Platform
Slice of Life Writing Challenge : Two Writing Teachers
WordPress recently reminded me that I have passed the five-year benchmark. Sometimes I think I feel every single day of it, but most times it still feels as though I’m just getting starting. It’s also March, time for renewal and re-awakenings as well. I figure it’s a good as time as any to participate in the 8th Annual Slice of Life Story Challenge which is to post everyday for the month of March. Along with other writing challenges of which I am a part of I think I can finally ace this thing. (I failed miserably my last couple of attempts at this.) It’s day five and so far so good – yay! And sometimes, when blogging, you have to take things easy and back to basics…
So let’s start with why “Raivenne-lations”?
The name is just me being cute, a portmanteau of Raivenne and revelations, from back when I thought this blog would be less about me revealing things in my life and more about how the things in life reveal themselves to me. It has instead morphed into something part semi-stream of conscious and part the abject randomness of my mind as I relate to things within my oh so small microcosm of this world-at-large.
And the tag line? “Doing what you like is freedom; liking what you do is happiness.” That is there to remind me that one -doing what I like- is just as important the other -liking what I do- and to constantly strive for a balance of both within my life.
See? No lofty goals here.
I post – some of you read, some of you comment, every now and then I strike a nerve or a smile, and hopefully all of you enjoy. I, the Gods, and likely a handful or so of you must be crazy, to paraphrase the classic line. Thus, I am very appreciative of those of you who arrived, read and have chosen to follow along this ever winding trail with me.
Also, see how others are slicing it up this month:
Choose or not to choose
Our deluge a desert to
Choice less throats so parched
Today at The Daily Prompt we’re challenged to a poem about water. And/or a haiku. And/or use a simile.
Writing 201: Poetry, Day One — Water, Haiku, Simile
Today’s The Daily Post is a good one:
You get to choose one gift — no price restrictions — for any person you want. The caveat? You have to give it anonymously. What gift would you give, and to whom?
No price restrictions? For me, this prompt is such an easy one as I literally had this conversation with another friend just yesterday.
My best-friend lives in a one-hundred plus year old, five-story walk-up that is owned by her and her family. Its age has caught up with it and the building has been in some date of construction/renovation for the past three years or so. Every apartment unit in the building is in or needing some state of repair. Not to mention maintaining the building structure itself. It’s all necessary work, but lack of funds and family like her 90-year-old mother still living in the building during it all it has been a really stressful few years for the entire family trying to get anything done piecemeal.
In an ideal magical world, everyone would move out en masse, she would gut the building, have it renovated bottom to top and then everyone could move back in to an issue free residence. The major problem being where would everyone live during it all. Without the magic of one hell of a mega/power ball type lotto where she could afford to arrange temporary housing for all the tenants and the rebuild itself, the ideal magical world is never going to happen.
Essentially, the gift would be move-in ready, elevated apartment building. Every one in the current building would simply move in to the new one. It has been a dream of mine to do exactly this for her if I ever hit that mega/power ball type lotto any way, so it is absolutely perfect. Yes, I know this benefits more than just her, but family is everything to her. The ability for her to be able to provide a stable, issue free building that she would not the daily worry of Oh God what now? for her and her family would be such a tremendous gift. Even though she would never know I had anything to do with it, the ability to remove that worry from her would mean so much to me.
The Daily Post: Secret Santa
Come see how others are slicing it up for the week at Two Writing Teachers
Slice of Life – Two Writing Teachers
<trigger warnings – bodily fluids>
I am going mad.
A feeling not entirely out of the realm of possibility given the circumstances, truth be told. Surely if any place could inspire the fragmenting of one’s mind, this dark abyss would be so. The ongoing series of low moans seeminly reverberate about the cramped space further emphasizing the horrendous state.
When was the last time we had fresh air? Saw sunshine?
Normally a gentle roll, the summer storm turned the normally gentle rocking of the ship into anything but a comforting lull. Several found their insides unceremoniously gushing out as a result of the lurching. I tried not to think about it, but it was more near silent susurrus, a subliminal messaging of sorts to which I would not pay heed because this sin’t happening to me… This isn’t happening to me… This isn’t happening to me…This isn’t…
The man directly behind me starts speak when I feel hi body convulse and warm liquid strike my head and trails down my neck and back. I realize the first words were the beginnings of an apology he now completed, his stomach empty, butI ould not offer him the comforting words of understanding asthe stench and sheer repulsionstarts to overwhelm. Feeling itI reflectively try to back away from the warm body in front of me. But like the man behind is bound to me and the stranger in front of me is chained to the man before him, I am just as shackled and cannot move when the ship lurches.
“I am sorry my brother”
Click for full size
Ready, Set, Done! is a ten-minute free-write where you tap away on whatever comes to mind, no filters attached. You are free to edit later, or do as I have and just publish as-is. I have NO idea where this came from. I typed the first sentence, kept going and this was the result. The image was found after the fact.