Blogging Bus (#100WW)

100 Word Wednesday: Week 118

Image by Bikurgurl

I wonder some days about

This blogging bus…riders

Still dressed in “them” and “us”

Folks from vast globe, Universe.

Are we really welcoming

Community…or is there an

Undercurrent discordant, not

As inclusive as we boast

Frequently.  Do we Follow

Then ignore posts, lacking

Time and energy…or because

We disagree with philosophy

Ideology, spirituality, or use

Of language unappealing?

Comment box can be feast or

Famine; subtle curse, or blessing

Often mixed…confusing.  Do

We “Like” to just get by, or

Like sincerely?  

No judgment intended…just

Pondering, offering piece.

Here’s my bus stop…to 

All, Authentic Peace ♥ 🙂

©Ennle Madresan, 2019 ~ All rights reserved.

Mannequin Horror

100 Word Wednesday: Week 116

Image by Bikurgurl

I never see naked mannequins

That I don’t think of her…because

The young student had reported

There was a mannequin lying on 

Band room stage…only it wasn’t

A mannequin, it was a body.

Nude, her clothes in a pile beside

Her, my friend lay dead, murdered

By a classmate…her blood a lake

Around her, crimson as Christ’s

In Whom she’d put her faith.

How many stab wounds does it

Take to make a lake of innocence?

And her throat was slit…that, we 

Knew from mortician’s inept effort

To tape it closed…all her friends

Aghast, grieved and traumatized.

Not a mannequin…

©Ennle Madresan, 2019 ~ All rights reserved.

Letters from Riverbed

100 Word Wednesday: Week 115

Image by Da Nina

Tumbling pile of letters

Pebbles poured on floor of

Riverbed, stones polished in

Soul’s current…mind, heart

Never ceasing flow…ache and

Flame, passion’s shimmered

Salt substance, tears…silver, gold.

Letters collected, writers’ catch

Washed, placed one beside, atop

Another…to fashion, build worlds

Full with words.

Mountains become messages

Read from mined gemstones…

One’s sapphire, diamonds

Another’s amethyst, emeralds.

We pen castles into existence

Find lost home in phrases

Spilling out, wealth unknown

Till we dig down dark amid

Rocky dirt, discover seeds

Planted by strange Hands…

Divine dreams, streams fed by

Voice, He who first spoke light, life.

©Ennle Madresan, 2019 ~ All rights reserved.