fabiochiu/medium-articles huggingface dataset:
lasreveR eloR for Saturnalia.
By: Jasmine Abbi.
Tags: Role Reversal, Saturnalia, Prompt, Slaves, Poetry

Credit: ‘Saturnalia’ a painting by Antoine Callet.

… but after all, anything under this saturnalia custom that I take from you could well get stuck in the throat;

for I do not feed so easy off the back of hierarchy.

Attestation of the ball & chain.

All the things you now see I gave freely despite them should clench your heart & twist in your mind.

Testimony to your undying reign.

Pieces of me that saw you alive, you will know in me they servantly died.

Without me & those like me, your power means nothing & once I have mastered you I should be a slave under care; without you I am something & you now are aware.

Your power it comes with an illusory pride, I can’t lose something I never had inside.

I rule with an empathy well met by your new found fear, killing with kindness false stipulation that you hold dear.

After all of this, all, at such time reversed; this is not well gleaned the title of good man is well demeaned.

As I must bow to someone through all, it won’t be well or easy to one who is lacking & has not learnt anything at my call.

Respect is a classless system & it does work both ways, it pays to keep your staff in its rays.

One who fails to recognise his strength could do harm does not deserve a well respected place at any table that greets him with loyalty & charm.
A Ridiculously Short History of Fashion
By: Jay Squires
Tags: Giab, Address a Dress, Fashion, Prompt, Clothing

A Ridiculously Short History of Fashion

If today’s nearly two and a quarter billion Judao-Christians are true to their Bible-based beliefs, two people, a man and a woman, in a lush garden located in the Tigris-Euphrates river valley of the middle east … were the harbingers of modern fashion.

The more conservative, science-based history of fashion drives in its marker at the end of the Neolithic age when the migration out of the tropics and into colder climates had begun, causing the wearing of skins to become an existential stratagem.

Whether high fashion began in the garden out of the shame of having tasted the fruits of forbidden knowledge, or as a less cerebral and more survival-oriented slap-on-the-skins-or-die of the hunter-gatherer cultures, you can be certain that, waiting in the wings, a clever marketer was observing it all evolve.

She reflected on the covering of nudity out of the guilt of sin, and considered, “hold that thought. We’ll find some commercial use for that later. Meanwhile, we can play around with the hems, raising them and lowering them, and maybe do something with that neckline. The world has a certain fascination with cleavage. Altogether, we’ll tease them into being as naughty as they want to be, but just this side of sin.

Then she let her imagination rove among the northern masses shivering within their animal skins, and she became very reflective. “At the risk of being stoned to death as a witch, I foresee the day when these poor hunters and gatherers will return to their caves and adjust their interior’s heat by a thermostat. Their bonfires will increase and decrease, based on the turn of a dial. They’ll be able to shed their skins while inside. In our hands, those skins will be scrubbed, fluffed, and trimmed, fastened by the finest bone buttons. These furs will be worn as eveningwear, as accouterment, and as an indicator of status!

She rubbed her hands and thought, “someday, when we invent the cotton gin and the spinning wheel, and Singer gets off his butt and perfects his sewing machine, we’ll turn this fashion industry on its ear!”

Now, it is my pleasure to tell you that 10,452 years, to the day, from the fashion industry’s beginning (as calibrated with exactitude, through the use of the Cirlean-B Trans-cultural Calendar), our own leader, Victor Sarkin, paid homage to this august tradition with his Genius in a Bottle Prompt # 8, entitled Address a Dress.

Won’t you enjoy along with me reading the selected prompts below:

Prompt #8 Winners

More than a Single Garment — A Relic of My Family’s History, by Kim McKinney

No Trousers Dear or You’ll Be Fired, by Caroline de Braganza

Wearing Only Myself, by Kristie Darling

Murrelle’s Apparel D’Allure, by Carolyn Hastings
Slave/Master Reversal
By: J.D. Harms
Tags: role reversal, Role Reversal, Prompt, Saturday Poetry Prompt, Scrittura

Slave/Master Reversal

Photo by Steve Johnson on Unsplash

Flip the board, queen becomes pawn, becomes the naked musician, the orgy of the winter raises its head, slaps the palms of those that had, and had, and took, and the servant is master for five days.

The relation of human inhumanity to more inhumane decor, the scoffing spitting reversal shame pleading beating scorn heat heat heat damned by the posting of entitlement, stripped to the individual, not the aristocracy that was initially dreamed of.

And is this a reward, or just a break? The licks all taken then discussed for the rest of the year by the oppressed portion, so many more of them, the disdain for a kind of life, or life in general by the constant reduction of the person.

Flip the board, the king becomes rook, becomes a pole to use, to haul in the next batch of wine. And the darkness doesn’t subsist. And no one gets what they paid for.
Little Red Riding Hood Frees Herself
By: Anthi Psomiadou
Tags: Life, Awareness, Self, Prompt, Freedom

Her mom started saying again to her

that none of these she would have to face,

if she’d obeyed her on that day

and wouldn’t stop for a flower bouquet.

The red-hood girl spends nights wondering

what was the meaning of all these.

Could I avoid back then the wolf?

Did I act as I was a fool?

Was there another path for me?

Could I walk more cleverly?

Should I have refused to talk to him,

keeping untold the purpose of my trip?

But, even if I had acted silently,

he could have followed me then secretly.

He knows the forest better than me,

he could be hidden perfectly.

If I hadn’t wasted time on flowers,

he wouldn’t have been earlier at my grandmother’s.

But, even with no delay, if I’d followed mom’s word,

he could have suggested coming for support.

So, why did life send the wolf on my path?

Obviously, it was to be done.

No if’s and should’s seem to lead elsewhere.

I have to find the message there.

Can forests run out of wolves?

Is the solution always to follow someone’s rules?

Can anyone control outside events?

Can you avoid the pre-written tests?

I’ll start focusing on what I learned,

what I became after this event.

Guilt is never a solution,

never directs to evolution.

Blaming the wolf or myself

is clearly a dead end.

I forgive now both of us,

to free myself from anger and inner gaps.

I won’t see everyone as a wolf, as a monster.

I won’t project fear on others.

Prejudice isn’t what I earned,

I won’t be attached to that event.

I’ll use it just to courageously see me,

to be aware of how much widely I can perceive.

And, this way, by being free from fear,

my light is going to appear.
Captain’s Log
By: Joseph Lieungh
Tags: Poetry, Prompt, Ani Po, Journal, Self-awareness

Passing of another story-line

Beginning with a story of cutting and rolling, painting of sorts, covering walls with new tint, singing and dancing nature’s song, youngest of clan enters the room. “Can I help?” Yes, of course, never turning down a helping hand.

Handing brush, ox hair priceless as it may be, not thinking of consequences, paint now covering bristles, metal and handled stick. What the heck happened? As quickly as the “I’m sorry” happened I was transported backward to working with my father. Scolded for not knowing proper care, a brush is still a brush, but his failure of not knowing, teaching example lacking the same.

Oh my dear, it is ok, merely making you aware. While only a brush, value to whatever given, it still needs our care. Spinning possibilities as to how events came to be, similarly worldly events, it could be this or that, failure on my part, lacking on theirs, blame game as watered down paint to thin, it just is.

Lesson learned dragon arrival for a nightly visit, cyclical return, swallowing own tail. Ouroborus infinitely returning, never-ending, ever-beginning, drenched in a message, collective past, backtrack discussion daughter explained.

Next day thoughts digressing, expanding awareness, consciousness exploratory assignment,’ It’ comes to be. Gods of Sea, Thunder, and Wind. Spirits of the Wind, Great Spirit, Oneness, contemplative collective, the visionary label of things, collaborating stories soothing souls, mere attempts to what ‘Is,’ deductive reasoning, becoming It Just Is.

Affectionately guiding us, becoming what may be, challenging all things as before, accepting what’s governing corners of the Earth. Transcending label of things, integrating and intertwining All Things in All Ways, no longer following rules of engagement, written laws of man, Stepping into The Canvas, becoming the Canvas itself, self-declaration I Am Here, stepping precisely as expected.

Respondents unable pressing journalist thoughts, obsessed with grass greener on another side of the moon, whereas color wheels losing mind. Stories passing day after day, ideating new chapters, unspoken words given new meaning to co-creating without lifting a finger once smashed by hammers weight.

Grabbing Author’s Quill, re-writing story-lines, generational twist, ancestral beings, traumatic events or guiding lights self-realized, traveling before the beginning of time, entering the void of All there Is, returning the sacred kiss, Universal response placed upon the lips.

Weeks end, sacred song, heart singing for all to Hear.

~ Ani Po
Sunrise:
Tags: Poem, Journal, Prompt, Mindest, Poetry

I find beauty in sunsets and sunrises. I share those because I believe that beauty should be shared. I hope that the friends I share them …
Sulley is truly adorable in that picture, Sara!
By: Hapsari Listya
Tags: Humour, Humor, Prompt, Pets, Writing

Sulley is truly adorable in that picture, Sara!

I bet she is laughing at first for wearing glasses like a human — yet she enjoyed getting a lot of attention from your fams! Hopefully, it would encourage her to keep learning as her owner do! :)

Thank you for writing this, Sara! Send my greeting to Sulley, and I hope you both are doing well!
The Greatest Gift of All
By: Edward Riley
Tags: Parenting, Home Sweet Home, Prompt, Love, Family

My wife… how do I describe the love that my wife has brought into my life.

When I first met her, she was a recently divorced, young single mom. She was lost and hurt. I’ll never forget the first Christmas eve that we were dating. I went to visit her late on Christmas eve because I could hear the hurt and sadness in her voice. She didn’t have her young daughter with her until later on Christmas day. I walked into her place, and she was wrapping presents and crying. Her love for her daughter was at the forefront of her sadness.

Having had a stepdad raise me as his own, I had the perfect example of how to show a child and their mother the kind of love needed to be a cohesive family unit. And so, I went about proving my love to them.

In return, I have gotten love back tenfold. A love from my wife that is transcendent. She has supported me, no questions asked, in all of my many endeavors and hobbies. She has been exactly the kind of partner that I would have hoped for and better. We communicate. We share. We are vulnerable and trusting. It is truly a gift that keeps on giving.

Her unconditional love for me and my love for her has fostered an environment that, I hope, will be as rich for my children as it was for me when I was growing up. There are certainly bumps coming down the road. It is hard to miss all of the bumps when you have three children that you will have to raise through their teenage years. In fact, we are currently hitting a bump right now with our first teenager.

But, we are still trying to approach it from a place of love, unconditional. We are trying to teach our children the lesson that just because you mess up or make a poor choice doesn’t mean you are disqualified from love. Love from others or love from yourself.

You hear about violence and abuse in families and how there is a generational cycle that is very hard to break sometimes. I hope that we can create a generational cycle of LOVE that is also, indeed, a tough cycle to break.

That is the hope. To take this gift my family has given me, that my wife has given me, that so many people have given me, and repackage it. Wrap it back up again and regift it, over and over.

I encourage all of you to try and do the same. Open it up, take it in, and then share it, repackage it, regift it to the people in your life. Your parents, children, family, friends, anyone in your life who is worthy of your love and attention, give them the gift of love. Words and actions are all it takes.

Because what gift could be better than unconditional love?
Prompt — I. What matters
By: Anoop Singh
Tags: First Post, Storytelling, Prompt, What Matters

Prompt — I

What matters

What matters

Every mystery, all the history,

What matters,

What do you think? all that worry,

In your head going to change your situation,

Or it just makes you waste your time and make you more vulnerable,

What matters,

Your imaginary creation in your head?

Or this peace to exploring yourself.

What matters,

Being with those who love you,

Or suffering from thinking about them who left you,

What matters,

It’s very easy to break something,

But really hard to make something,

What matters,

When the last time your situation was different than this?

But still, believe that everything now changes,

What matters,

Hope, That desire to being happy every day,

Finding a new purpose to wake up every morning,

What matters,

I don’t want that feeling, every day being the same whenever I look back,

What matters,

Not feeling, that I am not me,

I am someone else pretended to be me,

What matters most is,

Me being me, no matter who i am.
Stay safe, Find beauty, Grow!
Tags: Poem, Journal, Prompt, Mindest, Poetry

Photo by Author

Stay safe, Find beauty, Grow!

Leaving the house? put on the mask.

Stay safe, find beauty, grow.

Driving around? look up, look out!

Stay safe, find beauty, grow.

Just woke up? check Know Thyself!

Stay Safe, find beauty, grow.

Dawn or Dusk? picture a must!

Stay safe, find beauty, grow.

Thoughts to share? Write and post!

Stay safe, find beauty, grow.

Swimming lengths? free the mind!

Stay safe, find beauty, grow.

Racing mind? Clear the thought!

Stay safe, find beauty, grow.

Stay informed! knowledge is power.

Stay safe, find beauty, grow.

Christmas lights when dark at night.

Stay safe, find beauty, grow.

Stay busy, puzzles, writing, reading.

Stay safe, find beauty, grow.

These thoughts run through my mind all of the time lately. Much of what I do is connected to one or more of these. I wear a mask each time I leave the house. I wear it in the car even when I am alone to be an example of how to protect people. I swim daily. I swim to exercise my body. I swim to exercise my mind by actively meditating while I swim. I swim also to strengthen my lungs in case I do get sick. Being a respiratory issue the better the lungs the better off you are or so I hope.

I find beauty in sunsets and sunrises. I share those because I believe that beauty should be shared. I hope that the friends I share them with feel the same. :) I find beauty in the words and thoughts I read in Know Thyself. I find the wisdom on Know Thyself helps me grow. I work puzzles to keep my mind active. I try to balance the need for information with not being obsessive about it. I look for news not commentary. I can form my opinions from the news.

I want to thank Diana for the challenge. I have now written seven articles since Monday. I have shared my thoughts, vulnerabilities, interpretations, and aggravations. I have also read many others thoughts on the same topics. It has been an amazing week here in Know Thyself.
In those moments…. A poem on reflection time
By: Denise G
Tags: Reflection, Self Reflection, Prompt, The Brain Is A Noodle, Poetry

In those moments…

photo by author

In those moments

just as I wake

eyes still shut

glued tight

I'd rather lie

undercover

Me,

my thoughts

and I

Sometimes

fleeting glimpses

of dreams remain

Sometimes I remember

nothing

Only what is on the list

Did I pay the phone bill?

Do I have eggs, milk or bread?

Sometimes I remember

those I miss

hoping still for notification

of a message

that never comes

Or being able to call

and say “hi Mom”

I could mull over something

that went wrong

to try to make peace

and calm my mind

Sometimes I write

with one eye open

because the words

came in the night

I count the minutes

to see if I can

hit snooze

again

and again

Making the moments last

and pass

Before the day takes hold

as I reflect.
Dreamless
By: Ann Litts
Tags: Prompt, Dreams, Mental Health, Sacred Feminine, Mindfulness

Our Nights: prompt

Into The Void

Photo by Dyaa Eldin on Unsplash

I have never been one to remember my dreams. Oh, on the rare occasion, I will have some deja vu in my waking hours and can grasp a snippet or two of the dream I was reminded of. But that is not the norm for me. Also, there have been nightmares — so real — that even the alarm clock was a welcome portal out of that hell and back into My Life.

I have noticed that I sleep better, deeper, longer — if I do a short yoga practice and meditate right before bedtime. It’s such a sure bet — that I rarely miss my nightly practices. They are part of a calming, bedtime routine.

The stress of These Days has only made my nightly rituals more vital to my emotional, mental, spiritual, and physical wellbeing.
On Being Present
By: Ravyne Hawke
Tags: Present, Tanka, Joy, Prompt, Poetry

Learn more. Medium is an open platform where 170 million readers come to find insightful and dynamic thinking. Here, expert and undiscovered voices alike dive into the heart of any topic and bring new ideas to the surface. Learn more

Make Medium yours. Follow the writers, publications, and topics that matter to you, and you’ll see them on your homepage and in your inbox. Explore
Unfurling Thanks
By: Jenine Bsharah Baines
Tags: Future, Gratitude, Prompt, Haiku, Poetry

I will praise the past.

In bloom now, forevermore

I seed what you’ve sown.

©Jenine Bsharah Baines 2020

This haiku is my thank you to Deborah Christensen and Brett Christensen for the support they provided at House of Haiku. As e. e. cummings wrote, “I carry your heart with me.”

My future at Medium as a poet will forever carry the heart pulsing within its past. I wish you all the best, Deborah and Brett. Tracy Aston, I look forward to working with you.
Tabula Rasa
By: Anthi Psomiadou
Tags: Awareness, Self, Prompt, Know Thyself Heal Thyself, Behavior

He hasn’t lost his ability to feel,

but the external stimulus of

the excitement or the disappointment

are just scenes of the movie he watches.

Even when tears come out,

it’s like these can’t wet

his cheeks.

When he smiles and laughs,

he can sense the authentic source

and cause inside,

and that’s fulfilling by itself.

He can detect his mind’s confusion

and his chest’s upheaval when happening,

but these don’t act on his behalf;

these can do whatever “they” want.

He is aware and that’s all.

His non-extreme reactions seem

sad and lifeless to some “others”;

they accuse him of disconnection.

He doesn’t accuse them of anything;

He just doubts the unforgiven…

He feels alive and connected.

It looks like he experiences

blankness. He does and he doesn’t.

It’s like tabula rasa, which isn’t exactly blank.

Or, like the book of destiny;

its content has been engraved

on the phenomenally blank pages,

and our action will determine

the way and the rhythm

in which it’ll be fulfilled.

His chest is like a dark, quiet room

full of white smoke.

Could I say it’s empty?

I think he’s just overwhelmed by

something that can’t be imprisoned

in hands or minds, and it doesn’t need

to be named.
Children’s Mass
By: Ann Litts
Tags: Catholic, Prompt, Spirituality, Famiy, Christmas

In pondering this prompt, I wandered through all the memories of Christmas Past to try to find a personal something from deep in my heart to share.

I used to be a practicing Catholic. Devout even. CCD teacher. Bingo captain. My husband back then converted and joined The Knights of Columbus. My daughters were both altar servers when our diocese began opening that opportunity up to girls.

We belonged to a beautiful parish full of some of the most amazing Humans The Universe ever created. I was honored to call many of them Friend. Our parish priest and his predecessor were truly blessed with The Spirit of Love. Their energy helped form this group of Humans from strangers to neighbors to family.

By the time we moved to NC, I realized that I didn’t so much belong to a religion anymore. I belonged to a church. And I would never find that kind of spiritual connection in a brick and mortar space again.
The Rejuvenating Toil
By: Anthi Psomiadou
Tags: Awareness, The Score Of My Life, Prompt, Essay, Sacred Feminine

I saw the toiling of a whole day passing by my left foot as I was taking my nightly shower, after having sensed it flowing on my body, being washed away by hot water that loosened my head and my trapezius muscle.

But, a part of it stayed on me; its relieving one.

It’s what remains after the labor for something one considers highly valuable.

A sense of elevation, within the in-between field; like being a feather that can’t defeat gravity, but doesn’t lose its ability to fly either.

A feeling that I suddenly start “exhaling” a magical unspecified steam from the pores of my skin.

Rejuvenated, instead of exhausted. Revitalized through toiling for something wider than my personality’s microcosm.

An effort that offers a resting, which gradually leads to the effortless just be.

A non-contradicting contradiction.

Phenomenally oxymoron, but non-oxymoron underneath.

So, a shower turned into a lake of Catharsis, as I realized that one more day passed without me forgetting the Purpose.

Another earthly 24-hour context, with the Greek tragedy’s phases being manifested through small or big experiences of Anagnorisis, because I have chosen to consciously work for full self-awareness.

Another day with my omnipresent Self-Observer being heard; the other “me” — and part of me simultaneously — that watches me from the outside all day long, though it also lies within.

I don’t know how many “now” will I live until the final destination, but I know that — for a long time now — the voice of my Self sounds louder in me than the voice of my personality.

And this is something I conquered because I chose not to flinch in front of my 12 Herculean labours.
“Ain’t You a Man?”
By: Jean Carfantan
Tags: The Score Of My Life, Prompt, Girls, How To Be A Man, Boys

Our culture does not encourage boys to express their emotions, once adult, the man often perpetuates the situation without any inner work. Emotions are mainly allowed to girls and women : this is what our society tells in subtext messages.

As a pre-teen, we feel separated from girls and as a boy I did not know how to communicate with them. I remember I had a crush for a beautiful girl with a white transparent skin. I kept an eye on her every time I happened to cross her way.

Once I try to talk to her but she got afraid of me and she cried.

As a teenager, I was fascinated by girls. When I entered 10th Grade, we were for the first time with girls. With a male friend, our creativity exploded with poems, as we discovered André Breton and the surrealistic poets. We listened to rock music (Led Zeppelin, Beatles, King Crimson, Jimi Hendrix…). We had great fun, joking throughout the year but as the year finished, my friend was kicked out of school.

I went on writing, taking countless notes and writing many bits of stories and poems.

When I met my first real girlfriend, I was passionate about her. Her Sun in Cancer was on the exact degree of natal Moon and Ascendant. I felt swallowed by passion, sex and fire, a posteriori I realized that I abused her emotionally, I was so immature. She left me 2 years after. I learnt then to tame my shadows, my fire and my grief.

My second girlfriend was an intellectual woman, knowing Ancient Greek, Latin, English, Modern Greek, Provençal, Russian and bits of other languages, a teacher and a writer. I was fascinated by her mind and her knowledge, We mainly did not deal with our emotions, unconsciously, I think that I embodied the figure of the saviour, thinking I could warm her with my fire but we don’t really change anybody, we only change oneself.

I quit her when I met my wife as I tell in this story:

We have been growing and healing each other, discovering more at each step. She is well-grounded and I am still passionate. I can’t live without passion. I love taking risks, she needs security, I love dreams, she loves reality, we explore many ways of consciousness, balancing our personalities without giving up who we are.

I never had any prefered type of girlfriend, my real type is each time my actual partner. Each one of my girlfriends taught me a lot.

My shadows are receding as I now live in a flow, integrating my darkness in wonder so that it takes its place in Light. Darkness is a great teacher too.
Doubtful
By: 𝘋𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘢 𝘊.
Tags: Creativity, Prompt, Energy, Doubt, Poetry

Torn between the confidence of a child

And the doubts of an insecure grown up

Torn between yearning to hide

And wanting to show up;

Torn between knowing my purpose

And feeling deeply confused

Between wishing to be of service

And avoid being used;

Torn between blind trust

And suffocating paranoia

Torn I am between mindless lust

And being fiercely loyal;

Scattered, raptured, fractured

Scared, frightened, paralyzed

Doubts lack structure

They’re inconsistent and disorganized…
Longest Night
By: Viraji Ogodapola
Tags: Prompt, Night, Scrittura, Winter Solstice, Druid

Longest Night

Photo by Martin Adams on Unsplash

to throw away the weights of burden carried for long

casting off shadows dark, set upon spirits forlorn

holding beacons in those times old of Druidic roots

fetes to gather, breathing life in cyclic octaves

may it be the promise thru winter-tide

that lives within for morrow’s sight

beams of hope beckoning the light

past the darkest murk near the end of time

in the hollow of darkness we toss away

the heft of sighs and scraps carried in sleigh

rejoicing in cycles death and birth

journeying on, past the grief of yesteryear

the longest darkest night my friend

is for the soul devoid of kindred brethren

for to weather many a storm in the heart’s flow

together we shall light the splint of glow!

Viraji Ogodapola

Thanking Zay Pareltheon for taking us through Druidic times via this week’s prompt:
Layers of the Mind
Tags: Parable, Life Lessons, Prompt, Spirituality, Mind

Tuesday Prompt and Inspired by 𝘋𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘢 𝘊.’s journal entry.

Hmmm. I know what you mean and agree with the statement:

Life can never be a complicated journey without us being the ones complicating it

I also disagree.

Life has plenty of complicated situations; with so many actors having bit parts, parts, supporting roles and leads, including those seeking to see their name in lights (says under my breath, “narcissistic/emotional vampires”) in our improvisational skits, and skits within skits…so perhaps intricate is a better word.

Life is intricately layered, but not all that complicated, when one knows where to look for the answers.

I’m reminded of one of my favorite parables my Jeckyll-and-Hyde uncle would impart:
Winter Waltz
By: Barry Dawson Iv
Tags: Prompt, Saturday Poetry Prompt, Seasonal Depression, Scrittura, Poetry

Winter Waltz

Photo by Martin Adams on Unsplash

Day barely managed

to rouse from her sleep,

bedhead frizzy, icy fog,

feet hitting frosted flora

with a why bother shrug,

grimly, dimly, less inclined

to rise with each passing day.

Soon, her day will come

when black ice barely buckles

beneath her shuffle

as she’ll greet her shortest stint

sporting overcast jammies.

Some point along shadowed bend,

when nightfall overreaches,

lingers, and prepares

to lumber south again,

fate will realign

her eyes with mine and

we’ll share weary laughs.

“Once more then?” she’ll ask,

already knowing.

Inhale. Exhale. Step-ball-change.

We embrace the cycle,

leaning into the curve.

Once more then, we waltz.
Doubts
Tags: Poem, Journal, Prompt, Doubt, Poetry

Photo by Paolo Nicolello on Unsplash

Doubts

A journey started, I walked alone.

A better me was my inner plea.

My life in limbo locked in my hut.

Reading others learning, healing, growing.

Others know pain, trauma, damage past.

Many work to heal that, they share the way.

Searching, healing, even open wounds.

Locked doors opened, dark filled rooms.

Light I find that comes from within me.

Anxiety, fear, I must find my giving voice.

It was there before when I used my tongue.

But now its time for my fingers to speak.

The tongue worked well when mixed with heart.

Use your words, you just have to start.

To give back, to help, to share. Do I dare?

Diana wise does say you can, the time is now.

Do I think that members old, their thoughts I

found so wise and bold. Will they get that in me?

Will they see wisdom, heart and soul in what I told?

My homespun thoughts that I have shared

Did any find my stories bold, or maybe see a lesson sold?

From the start and even now the doubts are there.

I’ve learned so much, but the words I do are they really

helpful too? Hopeful that for one or some it is true.

For this to work the flow must go to me and back.

The notification numbers seem to show but…

all in all I still have some doubt

That I returned all that I took?

I started other posts on things that were out of my control, that I did have doubts on. I decided to dig much deeper and express how much I have learned and gained from all of the people that post here, regularly or periodically. I thank everyone for all the wisdom they have granted me and all the help they have given helping me grow and heal. With me getting so much, each time I push submit a little thought in the back of my mind says… it is enough…
Are My Actions going to be Enough?
Tags: Prompt, Short Story, Control, Pandemic, Journal

Photo by BRUNO EMMANUELLE on Unsplash

Are My Actions going to be Enough?

The overall theme for the next few days will become familiar. I am hoping the topics will allow me to delve deeply into different issues of the topic. Today’s prompt is “What makes life feel so complicated right now?” One of the lessons that is learned in life is, I only have control over me. I can control my actions. I can control my reactions. I can control my responses. In my growth this year that is something that I have focused on.

I have used that to deal with and heal past traumas. I have used that to present a better, more grounded, more positive, and more polite person. I have lots more work to do on it but I am happy with my progress so far. This one skill has improved my mindset. This one skill has improved my life. This one thing has improved my world. People that I interact with are more positive. They know they will see a smile. They know there will be a positive comment. The world, rather my world is a better place.

There is one thing about life right now that is the issue. Up until now this has been enough. This past year, these past couple months, that is not enough. Because of the pandemic, my life is also dependent on the actions of others. Right now in the United States there are more new cases reported daily than ever before. Eleven months into a pandemic that we know how it spreads. Eleven months into a pandemic that we know how to control the spread of. I should say, the way I wish to live my life is dependent on the actions of others. I can control my actions. I could decide to not leave my house until I go get a vaccine. I could not go to the pool. I could order all of my groceries delivered. I could stop living until I get the vaccine.

I am aware that the Covid19 virus has a very high survival rate for most people. I am aware that if I were not a sixty-seven year old type 1 diabetic that is statistically overweight and has medically controlled high blood pressure I could go about a fairly normal life and come though fine. When my factors are added into the equation it is more likely that if I get it I will have complications.

I do control my actions. I wear a mask whenever I leave my property. I even wear a mask in my car when I a driving although I am the only one in the car. I go out to swim. I shower in a private bathroom that has its own shower avoiding the locker room completely. I shop about once a week in off hours when I need things. Usually less than once a week.

The death toll for Covid19 in the United States surpassed the death toll for heart disease this week. Making it the number one killer in the United States during 2020. The thing is that many deaths from Covid19 are avoidable. Research has it that just wearing a mask could have prevented tens of thousands of deaths.

What is making my life feel complicated right now it that I am dependent on others caring about my health and my well-being to keep me healthy. Before this my actions could control virtually all situations.
Gifts Of The Spirit
By: Ann Litts
Tags: Gifts, Self, Prompt, Spirituality, Memories

December Prompt: The Light Cometh

Sacred Traditions

Photo by Wonderlane on Unsplash

Every religious tradition finds a reason this time of year to celebrate. The Light cometh. Be it the turning of The Solstice, the birth of the Christ Child, or the burning of The Menorah — we all share this inner knowing.

December is sacred.

To begin our prompts series — we invite you to share moments from Your Life where the season brought you Gifts Of The Spirit.

There is no set time limit for submission. Please remember to include the tag: prompt at the end of your piece.

Namaste.
Winter Spiral Day #8
By: Stephanie Michele
Tags: Writing Prompts, Ekphrastic, Art, Prompt, Writing

Winter Spiral Day #8

Artist Nick Cave asks us to envision a sonic, limitless reality with his sound sculptures. Can you write into that reality?

What do you hear? What do you see? Can it help us in navigating the future?
Conversation with a Killer
By: Ann Litts
Tags: Pentina, Life, Virus, Prompt, Covid 19

Photo by CDC on Unsplash

“Why? I need to know why?”

“Because I could. It’s what I was made for. My life’s sole purpose.”

“I don’t understand. Not all of your kind become renegade murderers.”

“Perhaps, but we all have that potential. Under the right circumstances, we all have it in us.”

“God help us.”
What Are Your Pets Thinking?
By: Sara Zadrima
Tags: Humour, Humor, Prompt, Pets, Writing

Fun And Games

What Are Your Pets Thinking?

A MuddyUm Writers’ Prompt

Meet Sulley. Photo by author ©Sara Zadrima.

When my dad and I decide Sulley looks more sophisticated when she wears reading glasses, what is she thinking?

Is she rolling her mind’s eye at us, sighing about how silly we humans are? Is she just happy to be here, and enjoying the attention? Is she plotting our demise, or strategizing her plan to get into college and become a successful businesswoman? Does she hope for more out of this provincial life, or is she just hoping someone will put that weird rectangle down and give her a belly rub?

I wish I could get a glimpse of the inner workings of her mind, even if only for a fleeting moment.

I know her anxieties — when I pack my bags for a weekend, she pants and groans and stands guard at the front door.

I know when she’s excited — she wags her tail and excitedly barks at me, ready for an adventure outside, or alerting me of a visitor’s arrival.

I know when she needs attention, or wants to play — she playfully nibbles at my hand, and yells with a voice that sounds as though she’s gotten so close to blurting out a word in English.

Sulley’s very good at communicating her thoughts and feelings to me in ways beyond words.

But in my favorite moments with my pets, whether we are cuddling on the couch or playing a game, I can’t help but create a silly inner monologue for them.
Uncertainty
By: Christina M. Ward
Tags: Prompt, Haiku, House Of Haiku, Poetry, Love

This Haiku was written in response to the House of Haiku prompt:

Prompt word: Please write a haiku/tanka using the prompt word “future” (or a derivative).

Thank you Deborah Christensen for all you’ve done to uplift this lovely poetic form!
The night of Saint Nicholas
By: Georgia Lewitt
Tags: Writing On Medium, Prompt, Winter Holiday, Saint Nicholas, Poetry

“The night of Saint Nicholas

is tonight, maman.

Can you believe it?

She’ll come tonight!”

“I know, right?

All day to wait and then tonight…”

“We have to clean the boots,

can I clean them right now?”

“Let mama finish her call and then

we can try.”

“But tonight she’s coming, she’s finally coming,

I wonder what she’ll bring me.”

“Are you sure it’s not a stick?

Did you really behave?”

I’m quite tickled at the idea

that Saint Nicholas is a dame.

“I think I did, I may have not,

I’ll clean my boots really well

if at least that’s what I got.”

My six-year-old, light of my life,

in my room at night,

“It’s after midnight, she must have come!”

“Do you want to check?”

“She’s been here,” he squeals,

“lots of stuff in the boots,

she brought me toys too,

really just like I wished.”

finding the gifts from Saint Nicholas — author’s pic

Copyright © 2020 by Georgiana Petec. All rights reserved.
Vertigo
By: Daniel A. Teo
Tags: Defy Physics, Poem, Prompt, Science, Writing

Sorry for the late response!

Thank you to J.D. Harms for this prompt about defying the laws of physics. Although it was a pain in the ass to write this, it sure was fun nonetheless

( with lots of reference to my physics textbook )

Really though…How does one enjoy physics?!

Daniel A. Teo
Soul Crucible
By: Jean Carfantan
Tags: The Score Of My Life, Prompt, Newsletter, Sacred Feminine, Soul

Don’t forget the kicker with The score of my life: prompt. To do so, just create a first line before your title and begin to write, at last choose the little T in the menu when you select a word in it.

Remember, we don’t mind the time, even if you submit it later than one week, it will be valid.

Don’t forget the tags The score of my life, Sacred Feminine, Prompt, and Poetry or Essay or Stories plus your own tag. Here prompts are not different from other texts, they are just weekly stings to write again and play together.

Have good time to tell, enjoy to write, we will have great pleasure to read you. Have a wonderful week-end!

Love, — you know what ? I am happy to be among you.

Jean
Muse Day
By: Patrick M. Ohana
Tags: Muse, Prompt, Night, Day, Moon

Muse Day

Photo by Luis Francisco Pizarro Ruiz on Pixabay

Moonlights are the most intense

My muse is awake on the Moon

Sending me her love and her words

Giving me a hand throughout the night

There’s always some red around her French

Je t’aime comme le rouge dans mon coeur*

Laced between her words and her sounds

Enveloping me like her blood-red scarf

To be in love with my muse

Is like a night without a day behind

Days are used to prepare for her smile

Lighting the sky after dark

Writing becomes lethargic in daytime

No matter if it’s morning or afternoon

I write some connected syllables

Only managing to type haikus

My muse is the one with the flow

Of my heart my mind and my hands
Weekend Prompt: “Obstacles Are Detours In The Right Direction”
By: 𝘋𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘢 𝘊.
Tags: Creativity, Prompt, Newsletterandprompts, Short Story, Energy

Dear gorgeous people,

I am sincerely hoping you are all doing alright. It has been a rather quiet week on Know Thyself and even on Medium itself, it feels like. Not sure what’s going on…I’ve read that a lot of gifted writers are removing themselves from this platform in favor of others where they get paid more and therefore, feel more appreciated for the work they put out there.

I can understand and empathize with that. Even though writing on here has never been about money to me, sometimes it does feel like there is a huge discrepancy between the amount of time spent researching article ideas and giving the publication a bit of “structure” and the rewards I reap financially. I know how frustrating it can be, that’s why it’s important remembering why we started our journey on here to begin with.

There have been a lot of changes on this platform and we ought to master the ability to adapt, both in the virtual world and the real one. Some of these changes may sometimes feel like obstacles, but are they really?

This weekend’s prompt is “Obstacles are detours in the right direction”. Maybe we could delve even deeper into this matter and view these obstacles not just as detours, but also as reminders to trust the timing of our life.

As always, be you. In your creativity I trust!

Take care! Till next time.
Darkened Days Ahead. Burning down the house internal…
By: Joseph Lieungh
Tags: Prompt, Ani Po, Holidays, Seasons, Poetry

Learn more. Medium is an open platform where 170 million readers come to find insightful and dynamic thinking. Here, expert and undiscovered voices alike dive into the heart of any topic and bring new ideas to the surface. Learn more

Make Medium yours. Follow the writers, publications, and topics that matter to you, and you’ll see them on your homepage and in your inbox. Explore
Elixir of Life
By: Jenine Bsharah Baines
Tags: Life, Prompt, Coffee, Poetry On Medium, Poetry

Elixir of Life

I awaken,

a wind-up doll needing winding

a rag doll struggling

to stand by the bed

a Chatty Cathy who can only groan

descending the stairs to the kitchen

a crocheted doll missing stitches

as she measures beans for her brew

But then

I take my first sip,

and a cracked porcelain rendering of myself,

a mannequin toying with existence,

I no longer am.

I

am real.

©Jenine Bsharah Baines 2020

Coffee, I have to have coffee!

Bach so loved coffee he wrote a cantata in honor of it. My favorite lyric is referenced above. Beethoven carefully counted 60 beans per cup. Mozart hung out at Café Tomaselli and referenced coffee in his operas. I love most genres of music but classical is what I was brewed in, as the daughter of an opera singer. For me, a first sip of the miracle elixir is like hearing the opening notes of Messiah and receiving the Eucharist at the same time — I get goosebumps, my soul sings, I am drinking my savior. (Please don’t be offended; I say this as a Buddhist Catholic with deep reverence for the Divine in all.) In fact, although this poem is titled Elixir of Life, it could just as easily be called Elixir of Love. Except, unlike the elixir in the Donizetti opera of that name, coffee is no snake oil. It delivers what it promises. Life.

Thank you, Lucy The Eggcademic (she/her), for your patience with my late response to your prompt:

Thank you, dearest readers. You’re each a miracle elixir for my writer’s soul, absolutely.
POMprompt #21; Short Form Nods is the newest POMprompt for all poets of The POM.
By: Christina M. Ward
Tags: Short Read, Prompt, Pom Prompt, Poetry, Writing

POMprompt #21; Short Form Nods is the newest POMprompt for all poets of The POM. You must follow the instructions on how to do a short form post. Make sure to tag your submission #POMprompt and if you have room to hyperlink the POMprompt 21 post (this one) then do so.

Keep your submissions UNDER 150 WORDS TOTAL. NO Picture! The goal: Practice short form and also to give a little nod to one of your favorite POMpoets or a favorite poem in The POM. A short thank you and why you like the poem will do. Now…go!

Here’s a sample of how to do it!

~Christina

Fiddleheads & Floss Writing Services

Let’s Stay In Touch.
Whats My Prompt? Day 2: Memory Lane
By: Jeff J.
Tags: Creative Writing, Memory Lane, Prompt, Memories, Whats My Prompt

Memory Lane looks beautiful. The roads are paved with precious metals. The signs direct you to myriad highways. Your mindset determines the atmosphere.

Exit 1: Trauma. A tornado warning remains in effect. Massive tear showers, turbulent tales of yesteryear, and gale force frustration await.

Exit 2: Jubilation. Streets clear of traffic and smog as you lose yourself to the majestic scenery. Your daydreams become your deepest revered thoughts.

Those thoughts form an imperfect GPS which can lead you down either path. And what about the loops? What if you miss your exit to stay within a certain area because the dopamine dosed experience is just “too good to leave now”

Why would we knowingly travel down a tunnel of mental tumult? What makes those memories appeal to the leisure traveler? Maybe the experiences that shape our lives should be cherished despite its flaws. But when you roadtrip down decades of love, brotherhood and indelible moments, you can’t help but zone out.

You might miss your stop on this journey. The allure of your past life might distract you. And you may get lost in your own head. You’ll know, and you’ll love it. Because our cherished memories fade away if we don’t travel down Memory Lane every now and again.

Inspired by my 20-year Alphaversary. I celebrate two decades in this beautifully imperfect brotherhood today. I wouldn’t be who I am now, if I didn’t become a brother then. 06 to the Torch Bearers. Onward. Upward.
Bulletproof Glass-One-sided
By: Mimi Bordeaux
Tags: Guns, Prompt, Scrittura, Prose, Jd Harm

Gun in Hand

We fly past the shooting arena slipping on wet debris scattered indigo gunpowder a fistful of following fire I’m shot at high range protected by this fenced in force glass shattered not harmful but free from danger contact your foes bring them all home! To our glass dreamhouse bulletproof window staring blanks drawn and fire takes a second the kick of uploading quickly but missing by a fraction. Bang you’re dead.

Mimi Bordeaux
Home Sweet Home Writing Prompt December 2020
By: Laura Fox
Tags: Writing Prompts, Prompt, Holidays, Writing Challenge, Christmas

Home Sweet Home Writing Prompt December 2020

Photo by Rob Laughter on Unsplash

With the holidays fast approaching, gifts are on a lot of our minds. What are we going to buy our family members? Are we going to be able to get everything purchased and wrapped in time? What if they don’t like their presents?

This month's prompt encourages you to pause and reflect on the greatest gift your family has given you. This can be a literal gift, such as a time a family member knew you so well they bought you the perfect present. You could also interpret this in a different way and it doesn’t necessarily have to be related to the holiday season. Maybe you were gifted an important life lesson. Maybe you found an unexpected gift in a painful experience. Or maybe you are a parent and have sentimental stories about gifts your children have made for you.

Whatever your story, we want to hear it.

There is no right or wrong answer to this prompt. As long as it’s your truth, that’s what matters. Home Sweet Home is always a safe place to share your perspectives on family and parenting.

Rules:

Your piece needs to be a minimum of 800 words.

Poetry is not accepted.

It must be written for the reader. Pieces that are written in the style of a diary entry generally do not give anything to the reader. Think about what message you want to get across. How do you want the reader to feel after they have finished your piece? Is there anything you want them to learn or look at differently?

Tag your work with “prompt”

Your work has to be related to family and/or parenting. Please tag your work with one or both of these.

Please tag your work with one or both of these. If you would like to enter this challenge but are not a writer for Home Sweet Home, please email an unpublished Medium draft of your entry to laurafoxwriter@gmail.com with “December 2020 Prompt” as the subject.

with as the subject. If you are currently a writer for Home Sweet Home, submit your piece as you would with any other submission.

Follow Medium’s Curation Guidelines

Please read our Submission Guidelines and FAQs for more information.

The winner will be announced in January’s Newsletter. Make sure you are subscribed to it!

We are excited to read your entries.

Good luck!