Day 21: January Mindful Writing Challenge

Salty ice-creamedbeach
caramel skin;

a sliver of honey
mingled with sea-sweat

where I peel scorched burls
from your back.

*

Ian Mullins

We’re on the twenty-first day of the January Mindful Writing Challenge - please post your small stone in the comments below.

If you’re not already signed up, our 31 Days of Waking Up daily email package was designed to accompany you during this (or any) month of mindful writing. Keep writing!

 

Image: AttributionNo Derivative Works Some rights reserved by papalars

Comments & replies

62 thoughts on “Day 21: January Mindful Writing Challenge

  1. Lizzie Carver

    Sad keening floats in
    Somebody’s dog feeling lonely.
    Later, silence
    Resignation?
    Or just sleeping it away?

    Reply
  2. Linda

    A white and black sea eagle soars above us on air currents.
    Below him panic reins.
    A flock of black cockatoos flies off in one direction,
    a flock of corellas in another.
    Then a colourful but noisy flock of Rainbow lorikeets
    screeches off in a third direction.
    Meanwhile the sea eagle soars majestically above it all.

    Reply
  3. JulesPaige

    tanka:
    at some point
    *
    another winter storm
    four to eight inches cancel
    over four hundred
    *
    schools and business today-
    I may still watch grandchildren…
    *
    ©JP/davh

    Reply
  4. Maaike Klaster

    Two men on the street: “The truth?” “The truth.” “The TRUTH?!” “Yes, the truth.”
    (In Dutch: “De waarheid?” “De waarheid.” “De WAARHEID?” “Ja, de waarheid.”)

    Reply
  5. Carol A. Stephen

    Jan. 21, 2014

    “…His growth is this: to be defeated
    by ever greater forces.”–Rilke

    For years I watched you weaken
    your body shrink to small, the slowing
    of your heart, each backward slide
    before your eyes closed one last time.

    Twice when darkness came
    I turned toward the light. Still,
    there is fear: how many miles left
    along this road?

    –CAS

    Reply
  6. Jean S

    Ice sheets drape the inside of the window’s glass
    And the still sentry cat watches the outside movements through the ice trails.

    Meanwhile Arctic frigid air greets
    the steaming breaths of the waiting crowd at the bus stop
    Amid the tail swish of the traffic’s tires on the road

    The day’s light creeps in on sentinel paws.

    Reply
  7. A.D. Stankowicz

    A long lost cousin called last night.
    We grew up in a small town together a couple
    of blocks and a generation
    apart, she being two years older than me.
    She was heartbroken – her son and
    daughter-in-law stirring up
    the same old shit again;

    seems to happen as regular as
    the gestation of a rhinoceros.
    Yet again, preventing her from seeing her grandkids.
    Nasty emails flung back and forth
    like hand grenades:
    angry words, hurt feelings,
    all sides battling for their
    little piece of self-respect,
    both convinced that they are right.

    The truth is somewhere in the middle,
    the sadness embedded in the heart.

    I listened, commiserated, said some caring things.
    We reminisced, told some jokes
    shared some family stories, most I had forgotten, or
    never knew.

    She didn’t know the name
    of my grandfather’s dreadful second wife;
    no one would talk to her;
    everyone referred to her
    as Pani.

    And finally we laughed,
    she seemed to feel better;
    she felt heard.

    Before she hung up
    she thanked me,
    telling me
    she had no one else to call.

    “I needed to talk to a father,
    and you were the only one
    who came close.”

    Reply
  8. Nicole

    Doing your shoping a Tuesday afternoon
    You meet elderly couples,
    united by age and wrinkles
    And shaky wabbly bodies…
    Gosh, one day I’ll be part of the gang,
    Already having hair with white strands.
    Must keep a smile on my face ! :)

    Reply
  9. Angela

    that moment when the plane soars through the layer of fog up and up into beautiful clear blue sky, my heart soars with it. I am on my way home.

    Reply
  10. Hajra

    I stared out at the tree that was standing bare
    I looked away for a few minutes, and when I gazed back again I became riveted to the spot…
    For it now magically seemed to be filled with brown colored leaves
    As I stood pondering on how that could be possible…
    Suddenly the leaves flew away

    Reply
  11. John S Oliver

    Got Whacked Back

    Rose bushes got whacked back.
    They look stubby today.
    But just wait until spring.
    The pruning will result in vibrant growth.

    Reply
  12. Susan Sleepwriter

    My day travels
    parallel with dreams
    colliding at the slide
    of my eyelids
    by the TV’s flickering light.

    Reply
  13. Patricia

    No more candy.
    No more coke.
    Change food pattern completely.
    No fun!

    Or …

    Better food pattern.
    Better vision.
    Better health and less weight.
    Happier me!

    I think I’ll choose the second one.

    Reply
  14. Pookie

    Comfy cushion
    mossy shades of green
    muted heathery mauve
    softly woven wool
    fringe of fine tassels
    (thank you sheep)
    satisfyingly captures
    Scotland in a square

    Reply
  15. SM Jenkin

    the train is a jackhammer, vibrating with such
    force it almost
    lifts from the ground.
    The moment passes; the engine
    whines as it leaves
    Gillingham. Such sweet sorrow.

    Reply
    1. Malek Montag

      Hmm… Nice image of a train leaving Gills. Never knew it could so poetic. You got the sound to a T. They sound quite rough starting off! :-)

      Reply
  16. Sharon Black

    Wind snaps at our ears
    so we sit.
    ¬
    Wind scuffs at our clothing
    so we lie –
    ¬
    take each other’s gloved hand,
    un-tense on the still grass, allow
    ¬
    the sun to lay upon our lids
    its gold coins.

    Reply
  17. laurie granieri

    Heat rising from the radiator, heating my cheek, reveling in being an insider, loving the harsh cries of children in snow.

    Reply
  18. Laurel Regan

    rooftops like so many iced cakes
    frosted with a layer of snow crystals

    but the days have lengthened
    five pm, sun-pinked clouds in a newborn blue sky

    Spring can’t be far away

    Reply
  19. Nerissa

    I dream of dark, cold soil as my bed,
    Sinking deep for winter’s rest.
    Let fibrous roots weave about my stilled bones,
    Fed by rot and winter light.
    But wake me in the spring!

    Reply
  20. Christine de Jong

    finally time for my lovely place in bed, after all this writing, talking,clearing up the stuff that gathers everywhere, cooking of healthy things and eating some bad habit things,…..
    peace and silence an warmth…

    Reply
  21. De Jackson

    Catching up…

    four stones too heavy for swallowing

    Jan. 18
    writer’s block:
    a smoldered
    boulder in my throat, tasting
    of eraser dust, ashes, regret.

    Jan. 19
    the pebbled sound of keys?
    a tease. i’m not actually writing
    any
    -thing.

    erjioewpamipianiyrenwbnakchireaioprjeio…

    Jan. 20
    the blurred edges of this
    troubled sky smear wayward
    tears, smudge like scattered slate.

    Jan. 21
    the day is done;
    and done of the day,
    I
    drop into dark sheets,
    a fallen stone.

    Reply
  22. larry p

    Upon opening my passenger’s door,
    a bright red light
    begins flashing on my dashboard,
    “Uh oh!”, shouts my passenger,
    pointing to the light with a hand
    firmly gripping a white toy bus.

    Reply
  23. Kathy Nguyen

    has my soul
    aged overnight?
    before the bathroom mirror
    I pull two strands of hair
    as silver as last night’s moon

    Reply
  24. julie daigle

    A woman in black, in prone and sitting asanas, as a graceful charcoal paintbrush- black hands, black knees, black feet- (fingerpainting as a child made valid by the size of the canvas and the brush, maybe) pushing the darkness back and making room for truth, one small, finite movement at a time, her full-body sweeps marking the passage of hopes and fears like the hieroglyphics of creation

    Reply
  25. Julie Gengo

    Cozy Couches – #smallstone
    Day 21: January Mindful Writing Challenge

    Cozy Couches

    Empty pitchers
    Stacked on shelf
    Waiting for drinkers
    Chillin’ on cozy couches

    Reply
  26. Nina

    Dark lanes, unknown roads unwind before me
    thoughts turn to turning back
    something prevents me from being this sensible,
    onwards I travel, tyres through rain.

    Reply
  

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