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What Do Mothers Know?

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  dVerse prompt for Sept. 9, 2024 For your Prosery prompt, I have selected the first line from her (Tina Chang) poem “Love”: “ I am haunted by how much our mothers do not know. ” Write a piece of prosery of up to or exactly 144 words, including the given line in the order in which it has been given. You may add or change punctuation, but you may not add or delete words. I purposely did not read the rest of Tina Chang's poem, as to not influence my first thoughts by her words and their meanings.  I was recalled back to an overheard conversation between a group of teenage girls, who didn't realize I could hear.  They were trying to come up with alternative ways they could have gotten "hickeys," or "love bites," what to tell their parents.  I laughed and told them  their  parents told  their  parents those exact same things, and no one was fooled!  No one would believe they "ran into a door knob," yet that's one that seems to pass through the ge...
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Ghost House

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The Sunday Muse #137 photo prompt        The sun set for the last time on the condemned farm house. I stand at a distance where I can see the golden horizon reflected in the glass windows.        I never knew this house when it was inhabited by anyone but ghosts.   Those specters are why its windows are still intact. No one has dared to break the glass for fear of opening the floodgates for spirits and ghouls.         Ghosts of the murdered…      …and murderers alike.           Something unholy, something unspeakable, occurred here.   Something no one talks about.   Those old enough to remember claim they don’t.   The local newspaper archives were lost to a mysterious fire.   Vague references to the murders exist only in faded, yellowed journals, dismissed as the rantings of paranoid farm-wives. No one questions. They’re af...
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A Cool Jade Wind Will Blow

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 The Sunday Muse #139 photo prompt:   “ I always sang, from the time I could make a noise. And I always wrote. I wrote little poems and at about 8 or 9, I started writing little songs. ” 1970 Laura Nyro, 1947- 1997.  Surprisingly, this is the first I've heard of this song writer/recording artist, although I am familiar with some of the songs she wrote.  After an afternoon learning more about her I wrote two responses to the prompt.  I incorporated lines from her songs, which are italicized. Some poetic license was taken; don't take my words as biographical. I Know I know my days are numbered as my mother’s were. Mourn for me, yes, miss me when I’m gone. Then, scatter me beneath the maple where I saw leafy green springs and red autumns. For the trees have eyes , to see the stars .   A Cool Jade Wind Will Blow Searching for a miracle , pearl in an oyster . I’m so tired . But the oyster’s just an oyster and there ain’t ...
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