fabiochiu/medium-articles huggingface dataset:
Show and Tell
By: Jenine Bsharah Baines
Tags: Prompt, Poetry On Medium, Silence, Angels, Poetry

Show and Tell

“Bud,” my guardian angel after a hard day. Photo copyright of Jenine Bsharah Baines

Turning right, radio off –

thoughts are noise enough,

driving me

to accomplish this,

ponder that.

Sometimes haikus come

Words like oncoming traffic

Collisions welcome

At stop lights and signs, I signal.

Mindfulness — instructed to intersect

now, please –

is playing peek a boo

when a loud rush of wings

slashes

the canopy of silence

like the time at Paradise Cove

as a gull swept past,

nabbing a French fry from my fingers.

Gospel truth. No poetic license

although willingly I cede

right of way to your skepticism.

I too peer through the rear-view mirror,

seeing

not once

but twice

rides on a hubcap and three wheels,

the fourth summersaulting in my wake

recalling

endless loops

of inexplicably successful swerves

against soundtracks of

screeching brakes, heartbeats

crescendo-ing, ears bleeding terror.

Poor Bud, I keep her on her toes,

if angels have toes.

Next time

I must remember

to look.

©Jenine Bsharah Baines 2020

This poem was prompted by an afternoon drive home after running errands, car utterly silent, when I heard this loud WHOOSHING sound, like wings. Instantly I thought “Bud.” As in Bud, my guardian angel. I was never quite sure about the existence of angels — despite gazillions of close calls in cars, a few of which I described in the poem — until I heard that whooshing. It so echoed the rush of gull wings I heard at Paradise Cove in Malibu when a gull stole a French fry right out of my fingers en route to my mouth. (Coincidence that this happened at a cove called Paradise? I don’t think so!) This time, however, I was nowhere near the ocean but in the heart of downtown Pasadena. Not a gull — or even a flock of birds — in sight. Plus I FELT the wings, same as I’d felt the gull’s. Right above my left shoulder, close to my ear. No way was a gull riding shotgun in my car. But Bud must have been.

Thank you, Jean Carfantan of Queen’s Children for reminding me of this experience.

Thank you, dearest reader, for riding with me today.
Altered Substance
By: J.D. Harms
Tags: Sigillaria, Prompt, Saturday Poetry Prompt, sigillaria, Scrittura

Altered Substance

Photo by Steve Johnson on Unsplash

Your wooden gestures invite me to freeze, in the snow, again; I wait but just for another silence that cannot take me beyond the empty footprints behind me. Are you going to wrap around me? Can you?

Oak, or elm…but person? And I try to scale this silence, melt it into something to be brought inside. I don’t see your strings, but why won’t you move?

And becoming cherry, or yew, or turning tricks over mistletoe last year, but now I have a statue, a grief improperly named, from the former moment to this: how did you do it?

If you leave now, I guess it will all remain unsaid. You can take your carved version of vice and disappear, blow away, blizzard as usual, and I can go back to staring out of windows, thinking you’d be returned by now.
One Forms Two Complete
By: Daniel A. Teo
Tags: Prompt, One Line, Harmony, Poetry, Love

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

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Dark Days, Darker Nights
By: Zay Pareltheon
Tags: Amaryllis, Prompt, Rejoice, Scrittura, Poetry

Dark Days, Darker Nights

Dark days, darker nights, so outer-space cold,

A cold profound — freeze the few atoms left,

Pitiful photons pillaged of energy

Wobbling like street drunkards searching warm vents

At midnight to vomit — a place to rest.

On these darkest, coldest, depleting days,

Find the place, corner, window shelf, some place

To plant the amaryllis bulbs, three to a pot,

Water, wish, and pray, check each and every day,

The bud, the stalk, defiant, proud, resolute.

And then, as the orbit turns, daylight grows,

Sun’s returning, but not yet — heralded, hinted,

The great stalk explodes in blossomed majesty

Light flashed back at winter’s dismal demise.

Zay Pareltheon

Thank you Viraji Ogodapola for the Saturday Poetry Prompt — December 19, 2020.

Reason to Rejoice:
Holiday Expectations (#prompt)
By: Anoop Singh
Tags: Storytelling, Prompt, Expectations, Holidays 2020

Expectations, Who gonna listen to that? Even my own mind doesn’t think that something good happening in my life, I have fear of expressing those expectations, Maybe I Am going to lose control over myself, It’s hard for everyone to Hold something inside. That’s you don't know how to explain. Do you think any expectations from this holiday are going to change my situation? Maybe, But who is gonna listen to those expectations? I know that they are not going to be true this year.

I think I am better without any expectations this year, I just leave my every expectation on time. I convinced myself, just accepting my situation, let things happen the way they are happening. I don't have control over them. At the end of every day, I have only one thing that’s hope for tomorrow. things will change.
Unimaginable Cold
By: Jill Kelley
Tags: Global Warming, Prompt, Weekly Prompts, Short Story, Centina

Unimaginable Cold

Photo by Bill Adler

“How long has Emma-jean been there like that?” Grandpa wanted to know.

“Roundabout an hour,” Grandma said. “She loves contemplating that painting.”

“Emma-jean, Honey, it’s time.” Grandma turned on the radio.

Emma-jean peeled her eyes away from the painting of a seal floating on sea ice with snow-covered land in the background. “Try as I might, I can’t imagine what cold is.”

“Good evening, fellow citizens. According to the United Nations, the last cold place on earth has room for 10 people this year. Please have your lottery tickets ready, and good luck to us all.”
Fathomless Bliss
By: Era Garg
Tags: Compassion, Flowers, Prompt, Happiness, Scrittura

In response to the prompt by Viraji Ogodapola in Scrittura: “what makes you dance with glee”.

Thanks to J.D. Harms for publishing my poetry here.

Era Garg 2020
I Will Wake Up A Star
By: Daniel A. Teo
Tags: Heal, Prompt, Rejoice, Mental, Poetry

Reason to Rejoice — Saturday Poetry Prompt:19th December 2020

A Poem about Happiness and Healing

Photo by Warren Wong on Unsplash

Akin to the serrated entanglements that construed me,

I am a puzzle with pieces that you cannot connect

until you hold near the flame of the candle to my obstinate constituents

up to the point where you are unable

to resist the dripping wax

desiccating your forearms.

Only till then,

I will fall back into place

and glide out the caliginous alley that once consumed me

leaving behind the last of silent whispers

pulling themselves into my left ear;

the sinister and foreboding resonance

have no effect on me anymore.

In the fullness of time,

Strength is willed and held up by courage

for me to shove Negativity’s fabrication into the dump truck

watch the rubbish wash up onto the creek

and slowly watch decrepitude rebuild itself

scars to heal over without being viciously tugged at.

Although

the uproar in my head will all be displaced by empty silence

I have yet to hear noise from the eerie quietude

as the ethereal voices of my intuition grow louder by the second

till it fills my soul with all the noise I crave

and walks me back home.



At last,

I am able to blink away the corrosions of teardrops

and see that

after I put down the boulder previously endured on my shoulders

my lips suddenly crack from smiling again

Happiness is the true wealth.
My gift
By: Georgia Lewitt
Tags: Prompt, Natural Beauty, Rejoice, Nonfiction, Writing

I’m watching the sky enveloping the Earth, scattering clouds in so many shapes, droplets over such and such lake, tiaras surrounding certain buildings, cloaks of invisibility gulping the whole valley, rarely my house included.

British Columbia, Canada — author’s pic

This panorama I witness daily laid at my feet is the greatest gift the universe has bestowed upon me so far in my lifetime. All I wished for 40 something years was a view other than another building, the neighbors’ dinner table or naked butt on the toilet, a parking lot…

I guess that wish, lingering constantly over the decades, when hadn’t I craved natural light so much I would have covered the windows with posters of landscapes, it metamorphosed into this magical reality I can’t stop staring at, still pinching myself every now and then, afraid that my imagination has finally taken all of me replacing what was left of reality.
If I Were a Christmas Tree Ornament …
By: Judy Millar
Tags: Humor, Prompt, Satire, Llamas, Christmas

If I Were a Christmas Tree Ornament …

Photo Credit: Darby Love (used by permission)

Yes, I would be a llama. But not just any llama. I would be THIS llama.

I would stand proudly on my branch, confident that my multi-coloured saddle would be the envy of llamas, near and far.

Not that I would allow other llamas near me. Never! Everyone knows if you hang out between other llamas, you risk getting llaminated.

Get it? Ancient llama joke. Ha ha! Or should I be saying Ho Ho!

Never mind. Merry Christmas to All!

P.S. I’ll pass on the Egg Nog. But I wouldn’t mind a Llamanade.
Metexelixis
By: Anthi Psomiadou
Tags: Doors, Humanity, Prompt, Sacred Feminine, Poetry

Not a single person feels single.

Everyone’s individuality has been merged into the

Whole ONE.

Everyone watches from above, while still walks on earth;

A species of luminous vertical bridges; selves and Selves connected.

Returning to the source while still having flesh and bones.

Tabula rasa had destiny written in invisible ink, after all.

Humans took a step forward and upward, giving birth to the 5th realm.
Monsters are real and ghosts are real too. They live inside us (#Prompt)
By: Anoop Singh
Tags: Stories, Prompt, Ghosts, Monsters

Monsters are real and ghosts are real too. They live inside us (#Prompt) Anoop Singh ·Dec 20, 2020

Monsters are ghosts are real,

Is that true?

and also they live within us.

yes!

Am I talking to someone else or I am talking to myself?

So which one is the scary one, and which one are you?

Aren't they both scary,

No, Maybe I don’t know,

I have never seen them,

How do I know?

Do you think you know, who are you?

why do you ask that?

you know that question.

I don’t the answer I am still finding it.

Anyway, Have you seen the monster inside you?

I experienced it, but it never able to come out maybe due to my nature and my values in life.
Fallow
By: Jen Naylor
Tags: Doors, Prompt, Sacred Feminine, Land Of Milk And Honey, 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
Python subprocess module
By: Ajmal Bin Abdul Aziz
Tags: Subprocess, Prompt, Python3, Python

The subprocess module allows you to spawn and communicate with new processes. The recommended approach to invoking subprocesses is to use the run() function for all use cases it can handle. For more advanced use cases, the underlying Popen interface can be used directly. The run() function was added in Python 3.5, call() function was used before.

After importing the subprocess module import subprocess

To simply run a command subprocess.run('ls') #linux, mac

subprocess.run('dir', shell=True) #windows. Always put shell=True to run without errors on Windows OS. But this is only needed when running file or directory specific commands. For running a common command like ipconfig , the argument shell=True is not required.

We have to add some extra arguments like capture_ouput=True, text=True to filter out as a readable output. For passing multiple arguments we should pass the args inside a list . ['ipconfig', '/all'] or you can pass as a single string ('ipconfig /all')

output = subprocess.run('dir', capture_ouput=True, text=True, shell=True)

For printing out the arguments >> print(output.args)

For printing out the returncode >> print(output.returncode)

For throwing the error out >> print(output.stderr)

You can pass variables as args >> a = '-lt', subprocess.run(['ls', a])

Dealing with prompts

Popen methodcan be used in many advanced cases, here is an example showing how to deal with prompts and pop ups using Popen method.

output = subprocess.Popen('apt install arp-scan', shell=True, stdin=subprocess.PIPE)
Hit By The Wave Of Change
By: 𝘋𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘢 𝘊.
Tags: Stories, Prompt, The Wave, Sacred Feminine, Poetry

I have been close to giving up writing many times — so close that I believed nothing could change my mind regarding this aspect. Surely enough, each time something happened: a sincere response to an article, a request for a collaboration, an email announcing a writing contest, a friend wanting to exchange poems.

To claim these things occurred at the right time would be an understatement. It felt like the whole world conspired to send me a message: “Do not give up, your voice needs to be heard. You are making a difference, your words are having an impact.”

I am deeply grateful for these “interferences”, for these much needed reminders. Even now, when a doubt creeps in (which rarely happens), signs don’t hesitate to show, messages are received.

The waves of change hit exactly when needed and I do everything in my power to catch them!
Io Saturnalia!
By: Viraji Ogodapola
Tags: Saturnalia, Prompt, Rejoice, Scrittura, Poetry

Io Saturnalia!

Good lord’s strut, reduced forthwith to a wimp unsightly,

Dismissed in whole tonight, I shall forgo all my duty,

May I now, where’s my lady?

Flip of the days, we have a king to mock, the Lord of Misrule¹,

for tonight the order of the day, is utmost chaos in disarray!

Gifts to spare for the ones who mattered all year through,

This very monumental signillaria², from me to you,

Hop on to the beat of merriment,

Cascading that happiness downwards dancing with glee,

Greetings galore in those days of Io Saturnalia³!

The weight of the matter heavy on shoulders remain,

But the eye to see thru the hourglass you can change,

Sage of time’s epiphany we embrace with each turn,

Spin around we shall, therefore to see through another way!

Viraji Ogodapola
A Reason to Rejoice
By: Patrick M. Ohana
Tags: Prompt, Rejoice, 2021, Scrittura, Jd Harms

A Reason to Rejoice

Pic by Vector Cliparts (CC BY-NC-ND 4.0) on Pixy

There are always reasons to rejoice. The Sun is out. The Moon is full or smiling like a lover in sync with your heart. The stars are always a source of joy and remembrance, especially when we understand that our birth originated following their astral death.

We even invent reasons to rejoice when there are none at hand. A muse living on the Moon but aspiring to live on Mars. A great love living across the world but only connected to you with words. This same love rocking your life like Pink Floyd’s Wish You Were Here.

The real reasons to rejoice tend to be few and unattainable. Peace on Earth. Not in my lifetime. A clean blue dot in spacetime. Maybe after we all die and children chase away all deadly butterflies. Love in the air. We may have to invent new binoculars for that.

So, is there at least one reason to rejoice? Freaking 2021 is one, even with the freaking in front because I doubt it could be as harsh as freaking 2020, which even the word fucking in front would be too good for this piece of shit of a year. Yet, I just thought of another reason to rejoice. I “met” you all in 2020 and I hope to know you better and perhaps for real in 2021. You never know. What the mind wills, the heart tends to follow, often disguised as something red, when dear friends, everything beautiful is either blue, or green like the colour of my smile when I look at a tree hypnotized by its majesty.

Patrick M. Ohana
Prompt Story 1: Paper Cut
Tags: Prompt

When I was younger I used to get paper cuts all the time. The cuts would sting and bleed on my paper. Some were deep and some were shallow. Some were long and some were short. One thing that they all had in common is that they hurt.

At first you may not even realize you’ve cut yourself. Then what squirt of hand sanitizer or the juice of a lemon hits it just right. You then find several on your hand, all stinging and burning. Something so small, so minuscule, causes great pain. It’s almost as if you never would have known.

Maybe you shouldn’t have known. Maybe its not real. You can’t see the cut so how is it real? It’s real because we feel it. You can’t see a headache or an itch on your arm, but that doesn’t make it any less real. A paper cut may be a small injury, but it reminds us that even the smallest things, things we can’t see, are real.
On Keeping Myself Balanced
By: Ravyne Hawke
Tags: Prompt, Self Improvement, Self Acceptance, Essay, Balance

How do you balance self-acceptance and self-improvement?

My knee-jerk reaction is — poorly. When I chose anger and outrage for Wednesday’s prompt, self-loathing was a runner-up emotion. Just when I think I have slain the ‘negative thoughts’ beast, it rears its ugly head again. Thankfully, I have tools at my disposal to chase that beast away these days, but it is a battle I know I will be fighting my entire life due to mental illness.

So when I initially think ‘poorly’, I know that isn’t correct. But it certainly is a balancing act for me between self-acceptance and self-improvement, and maybe that is a good thing. When I am struggling with self-acceptance, it forces me to reach for my survival tools and those tools are part of my self-improvement goals as well. Some of my survival tools are

meditation

practicing mindfulness

chanting mantras

Reiki~ing the situation

practicing Ho’oponopono

repeating Affirmations (thank you Louise Hay!)

listening to new age, meditative or classical music

deep breathing exercises

reaching out to my therapist

Notice that I’ve put my therapist last. Part of my self-improvement goals is to dissolve negativity on my own instead of running first to my therapist. It is absolutely wonderful to have her to fall back on should my own efforts fail, but she is teaching me to be self-reliant and proactive toward my treatment.

I know my path forward will always have stumbling blocks, both for self-acceptance and self-improvement. I also know that I have the tools to keep those stumbles over small rocks and not mountains. And all I can do each day is to be a better version of myself than I was yesterday.

© 2020 Lori Carlson. All Rights Reserved.
The deep holes in the ground, the scorched earth all from acid falling from the sky.
By: Novice Words
Tags: Prompt, Rain, Entertainment, Pandemic, Acid

Acidity

The deep holes in the ground, the scorched earth all from acid falling from the sky. Around 3 months ago black clouds starts consuming our unsuspecting world in darkness. No one knows where it started exactly, but China usually comes up in suspicion. A natural problem proclaimed the news, a fondly known cover up for the rich and the evil. Many lives taken from a not so natural disaster. People went to shelter only for the homes and stores to collapse on top of them. The only real shelter being glass domes that started being sold wide spread by big businesses. The small ones tried, but couldn't due to the government closing them down for safety concerns. The glass domes protected the majority, but killed the dumb. People who whined about their lack of breath, the fogged up glass, how it "looked stupid". Lucky enough those who complained are gone now. Alot less noisy now. The government proclaimed a glass dome over the US in order for people to be able to resume their lives. All talk no show as usual. Some buildings however have their own glass domes. Some restaurants as well. Homeowners were not as lucky. There are more homeless than ever, and less homes than ever. You may wonder where I fall in line to this hell storm. I was lucky enough to live in an apartment complex that invested in glass domes. Making my only social interactions made with special product delivery people until I get the glass dome I ordered of of wish. Months have passed with me listening to the drone of acid rain pittering off of the dome. Bored I turn on my TV to religious propaganda proclaiming gods fury of our tarnished ruin. I roll my eyes and flip my input to play on my console to kill a couple hours, my dome is supposed to arrive within the week so I can finnaly go out and get more groceries without online ordering. As great as the service is the left off the most importantly item. Chocolate milk mix. Without being able to get my fix I've been going a bit mad. Well I guess that's more of an overstatement, but I still miss my daily pleasures. Days pass with and finnaly a knock at the door that greets me with an oblong box. I rip it open to reveal a dome of my own. I immediately put it on and head outside. Halfway along my walk to the store I notice a drop of acid fall right in front of my face. Fear spiked as I felt the material of my dome. This wasn't glass. The material I just put my life in was measly plastic the was being eaten up by acid. I pick up my pace into a dead sprint. Time was ticking. Drops of acid started eating at my clothes, moving to my skin. Then the most unbearable pain hit me and as it does I realize im too far from safety. This is how I die. Ignorance in my trust of a wish product. Then it hit me, it was no accident. Wish was behind the rain the whole ti..
Candy Canes With a Sprinkle of Michael Bublé
By: Daniel A. Teo
Tags: Prompt, Aoe Prompt, Christmas Music, Candy Cane, Poetry

Candy Canes With a Sprinkle of Michael Bublé

Photo by Pete Wright on Unsplash

Open your curtains without

your Christmas decor falling onto the ground,

look outside your window and sigh.

CMON! It's not snowing!?

Go back to the kitchen…

I know what can fix that;

first, turn on the Christmas Tree lights

and make your room

turn bright!

Hit your old music player

and pray to the heavens that

it's still working since December last year.

And when it turns on

your face too lights up like the Christmas tree

back in the Living room.

Don a cheeky smile and

set the audio to the maximum.

Double lock your doors too!

Your neighbors will kill you for this.

Proceed to scroll down the

playlists with only the faces of

the one and only Michael Bublé.

What are you waiting for?

Press Play!

As you gallop around

your room like a hysteric horse with three legs,

dance moves involving —

caressing your feet on the carpet till it burns

and knocking over your mom’s furniture,

scream and wobble your head

to the soothing voice of Michael

trying your utmost best

to not choke on the four candy canes in your mouth.

This year,

you’re too old for toys and play dolls

so as the song “it’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas” plays at the back,

ask Santa

for Sugar Resistance

as you shove the fifth candy cane back in your mouth

choking and screaming

It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christ —

right, ask Santa for a Choking Resistance too
A Good Book
By: Denise G
Tags: Doodle, Prompt, The Brain Is A Noodle, Books, Poetry

A Good Book

doodle art and photo by author

My mind

adrift

on a

sea of words.

Removed

from the

world,

and lost

in another,

within

a

good book.

I visit lands

of ladies

and lords.

Where they rejoice

the wisdom of

the father

and the nurture

of the mother.

There is

nothing to lose

and all

to gain

within

a

good book.

Denise g
That Night Under A Mistletoe
By: Shalini C
Tags: Prompt, Competition, Poetry, Love, Christmas

That Night Under A Mistletoe

Photo by Şafak Atalay on Unsplash

There’s a candle flickering somewhere in the corner

a flighty flame — kindled soul from soul, year after year

when yet again our clumsy lips touch

the liminality of a miracle

under the greenery of a mistletoe

for in that moment

all has grown still

and we’re floating apparitions

in the quiet mirror of eyes

Hymns of the world brimmed

our faces crane close

before fading away remote

stranded in the dunes of time

chasing the tick-tick-tick

of a heart turning a corner

into stone

Perhaps one day

we’ll wonder why we left a

jaded rose on this page we call

“that night under a mistletoe”.
Ah, Saturnalia
By: Zay Pareltheon
Tags: Saturnalia, Prompt, Poetry, Saturday Poetry Prompt

Ah, Saturnalia

Photo by Birmingham Museums Trust on Unsplash

Just one day, noon to noon, as we count them.

Your youthful wish shall be my task, I’ll play along.

Order up the quail, a hummingbird or two

And a few of our, my, finest wines, enjoy -

You can’t drink it all, having soon collapsed.

And, why yes, I’ll dress the humble part too,

And pull you along as you wear my robes

In the great parade, feigning humility,

To the Temple, wearing masks, hiding truth

Until the sacrifice, masked joviality.

All good fun, enjoyment, temporary; yes,

What’s that you ask? Set you free at last?

It must be the wine. Let’s not get carried away.

Tomorrow you clean the mess you made today.

Zay Pareltheon

Thanks, always to JD Harms for the Saturday Poetry Prompt.
Recovery
By: Jenine Bsharah Baines
Tags: Prompt, Spirituality, Poetry On Medium, Addiction, Poetry

Recovery

Image by Alexandr Ivanov from Pixabay

“Do what you will,” he said, “but you are seeking your own destruction.”

Edith Hamilton, from Cupid and Psyche

I have yet to evolve into a vaccine

for the virus assaulting

the sister-mother-daughter within me,

sweet, succulent, succubus Psyche –

too enamored of her own desires

to accept less, to live the delicate balance

between inoculation and infection.

Psyche, my diseased butterfly

in a slashed net

alighting on branches of excess

solely visible in darkness;

a bee stinging,

pollinating its own doom.

I command you, my hothouse bouquet

of nightshades — dissipate into motes

of sunlight dusted

with shattered moons, ice, and asteroids.

That Psyche’s frayed wings — besieged

by extremes, sabotaged by denial –

be re-spun with steel, veined in wisdom,

sores healed soaring

now anew

©Jenine Bsharah Baines 2020

A favorite ‘mentor,’ the 13th century theologian and mystic Meister Eckhart, advises “No man is happier than he who has the greatest detachment.” He may have been tried as a heretic back in the day, but I am convinced Meister Eckhart is on to something. If only because, far too often, I am in thrall to my ‘attachments’ — my “hothouse bouquet of nightshades” — and such slavery sucks. Too much sugar or shopping, I feel guilty. Allow too much power to others’ opinions, welcome oceans of extremism. I’m either surfing sky high waves of euphoria…or I’m drowning in self-doubt, defeat, despair. (Here on Medium, I’ve even developed a way to respond to comments without seeing clap-counts. I NEVER check stats — that way lies madness.) And let’s not even discuss my addiction to wanting my own way. The havoc it wreaks. The spiritual growth it thwarts.Yes, every mystic agrees our truest self is light, perfection…but my sweet Psyche could use a shower. Minus the dirt — shine on, girlfriend!

You know where I master detachment best? Writing! I ‘detach’ by ceding my soul (Psyche, often symbolized by the butterfly) to the Muse.

Thank you, J.D. Harms and team at Scrittura for prompting this poem, my take on “slave/master reversal.” It prompted me to “dig deep,” as my geologist pal Camille Hueni phrases it.

Thank you, dearest readers, for digging deep and supporting me and Psyche when we fly on the wings of the Muse.

Thank you, James G Brennan, for YOUR take on psyche!

If you’d like to learn more about me, please visit https://medium.com/about-me-stories/about-me-jenine-bsharah-baines-1b7652c9561b
Sun Reborn
By: Era Garg
Tags: Prompt, Sun, Scrittura, Solstice, Poetry

I penned these lines in response to the prompt ‘role reversal’ exploring subtle relationship between Sun and earth keeping Winter Solstice in focus.

In many countries including India Sun is worshipped as Sun god. India is abound with Sun temples. These are scientific and architectural marvels. Konark Sun temple in Odisha portrays Surya(the Sun) riding 100-feet high chariot drawn by seven horses. Spokes of twelve pairs of wheels in the chariot actually create a sundial. One can calculate the exact time of day by just observing the shadow cast by the spokes on the wheel.

Thanks J.D. Harms for publishing my words in this publication.

Era Garg 2020
Santa and elf report after a summer-long lockdown (#prompt)
By: Anoop Singh
Tags: Motivation, Prompt, Hope, Storytelling, Lockdown Diary

Hello, Should we start or wait for the perfect view as a reporter talking to his cameraman. he finally got permission to move on. as they were riding in an open van going through the middle of the city.

GOOD MORNING, Everybody. I hope you are taking care of yourself. I know this year been the toughest year of your life. we know things are a lot different now. but here we are going to talk about only happiness, hope, and positive things. Because you don't need to find a reason or moment to be sad there are thousands out there. We are here to collect our happiness motivation for a better tomorrow. This lockdown teaches us how to care ourself. If you still don't know how to link in the below of this video.

you need to step up and look at the world so that you can understand our boundaries, I know if you can see that you are going to find that reason to be happy. There are thousands of people out there who don't have those things that you have right now still they are constantly trying to seeking in pursuit of happiness no matter what their situation is right now.

If you see this we encourage you to seek help, if you really think you needed. This world came so close to humanity in this lockdown, people going to understand what you are going through. you just need to accept it what you have is enough and do what makes you happy. Find your inner peace.
What’s My Prompt? Day 17: Socks
By: Jeff J.
Tags: Prompt, Socks, Creative Writing

Me and you were stuck together

Washed until the end

Knew you would be my forever

Thought I had a friend

But disappeared you did

After we tumbled and fluffed dry

Where oh where have you hid

Or maybe you escaped? Why

We have no purpose alone

That’s why we come in pairs

Looks like our bond you’ve outgrown

and come to our last wears

As I get tossed in the box

of clothes no longer worn

You shouldn’t be shocked

That I wish you were never born
Trim the Sails
By: Jean Carfantan
Tags: Uncertainty, Prompt, Newsletter, Essay, Sacred Feminine

As we are heading difficult and uncertain times, may be it is time to trim the sails to go through the tempest coming. We’ll need to be free and able to react to any event. This is not about fear, just about anticipation.

Build a network around you because it can help you resist to any difficulty and support each other.

Prefer countrysides that are more resilient than cities.

Pay off your debts.

Purchase the necessary : a battery radio to get some news, some provision…

Sell what you don’t need anymore.

Our times is a tool to lighten ourselves, to get more freedom.
草莓 // strawberry
By: Daniel A. Teo
Tags: Nature, Prompt, Fruits, Acrostic Poem, Poetry

The Chinese word “ 草莓” translates to strawberry and is pronounced as cǎo méi. This poem was written because of my undying love for strawberries; it is undoubtedly my favorite fruit, with mangoes being my second favorite.

I hope you learned a new word today! Check out the prompt hosted by Rochelle Silva, and remember to tag her in your published works.

Feel free to tag me as well; I am more than interested in reading poems written in your languages!

Prompt: An acrostic poem about one word from your language, and every letter represents something that explains what that word means. It also can be a word that is very close to you.
What is your relationship to hope right now?
By: Flip Flops To Snow Shoes
Tags: Reflection, Prompt, Meditation, Hope, Introspection

At the end of 2020,

1 week from the shortest, darkest day of the year,

I am asked: what is my relationship to hope right now?

In a word: archaic.
Caliban speaks
Tags: Prompt, Poetry On Medium, Poetry, Poetry Writing, Shakespeare

Caliban speaks

Photo by Raphael Renter on Unsplash

It was not a special night

The moon was as it had been — dull,

Dull as the enchained nights

And days of my servitude.

The breeze was hesitant, heavy.

The humidity was unforgiving, like all

The unforgiving nights before,

Mud-bound, hagseed, a thing of darkness.

The world still turned; their eyes still mocked.

Somewhere in the distant brightness of the city lights

A hum like a drum rolling on its side, droned.

My thrice-crowned King whispered, like sweet cooings,

Concupiscent seductions, heavy rope,

Binding, coarse and eating into dark flesh.

I went on

It was not a special night.

But at the last twist of the knife — I lost count how many -

And as the old man whimpered, his golden crown

Drowning in a ruby pool,

An ever widening abyss,

I thought the night was salvaged.

©Nikhil 2020

This was in response to a prompt suggested by J.D. Harms to flip the Master/Servant dialectic. I had initially wished to write a poem about Hegel and Marx, but I went instead with a Shakespearean allusion, with Caliban contemplating and murdering Prospero, his Captor.

I might still write a Hegelian/Marxist poem!
Easterlies
By: Johannes Mudi
Tags: Prompt, Easterlies, Poetry, Scrittura

Easterlies

Photo by Stanislav Filipov on Unsplash

The light goes off in the West

It’s rays now beaming in the East

With leading brands in tech

Rebellious revolution in innovations

Streets replete with bizarre architecture

Patent upon patent seeking recognition



The tech valley, soon stooges

Relic of once-famous strides now protégé

Looking to the lands where the sun rises

At the beck and call of the PRC’s summons

Adopting codes in Mandarin and Hindi

An end to centuries-old cold rivalries



Such violent waves of change

Transient in ages and stages

You should have known from history pages

Revolution in industry birthed by the English

Burrowed, worked on by the States

Now beaming in the East
I believe in (Prompt)
By: Anoop Singh
Tags: Prompt, Hope, Change, Believe, Writing

I believe in the future,

that’s still unknown.

I believe in the past,

from which I learn a lot.

I believe at this moment,

It’s worth living.

I believe in simplicity,

One day it will shine.

I believe in trusting others

Everyone has limitations.

I believe in change,

Not every day is going to be the same.

I believe in hope,

The only things that I want to have till I last long.

I believe in pain,

Always show us our limitations.

I believe in love,

The only reason we bond together.

I believe in myself,

Time will change for me also.
Disco In The Head
By: Daniel A. Teo
Tags: Life, Poem, Prompt, Music, Prose

But somethings missing.

The radio.

Even in silence,

despite its beauty, lies

an eerie atmosphere and its attempts in

engulfing you into loneliness.

The radio’s your best friend

and so is music.

And the moment you feel the claws of silence

going down your spine

turn on the damn disco ball

and blast the soft rock

snap your fingers together with the vivacious beat of

John Mayer

till your neighbor shouts at you.

And when they bang your door

turn it off

and when they leave

turn it back on.
You’re Fired!
Tags: Role Reversal, Prompt, Writing Prompt Response, Poetry, America

He was a kook,

but we thought

good at his job

of keeping my husband

alive

His only job

but in multiples

keep patients breathing

do no harm

heal

He shrugged off masks

only wearing one

if commanded

and my husband

did

His staff told not to

even if asked

and my husband did

and they

didn’t

The absurdity of

health professionals

not professing health

of representatives not

representing

Of leaders not leading

in this quagmire

we must stay afloat

doing what they

won’t

You’re fired

were the words

the doc couldn’t hear

cause he didn’t

believe

A patient could fire

him like a laborer

who would wear

the mask that he

wouldn’t

Reminds me of America

firing a president who

didn’t preside

no override

done

Upside-down, inside-out

the little guy becomes

big and fires the

big guy who is very

small

Dennett

© Dennett 2020
Saturn Speaks
By: Paroma Sen
Tags: Writing Prompts, Age Of Aquarius, Prompt, Planets, Fiction

The year is coming to a close

And I, bedecked in my regal glory

Hasten my way; my birthday celebration awaits.

Dressed for the occasion, like I always am

My rings crowning me, the natural heir to my father, the sun

I am incarnate. They have imbued me in all.

Saturday. Saturnalia. Satiation.

But then I turn the corner, spin my mortal spin

And drat, who do I see? Brother Jupiter it is, indeed.

It appears I have forgotten our date

20 years have passed since we last met

And I still can’t stand his smug derriere,

Much as I yearn for him to disappear.

He thinks of himself as king — as do I!

Just because he’s big? When did brawn supersede brain?

His size isn’t going to earn him top spot! Not while I’m still here!

He’s going to spoil my birthday, isn’t he?

Every time we meet, drama ensues!

Spinning the planets into a new 20-year cycle

Hark a minute! The Age of Aquarius is upon us

My brother and I, the harbingers of a new age

Innovation! Technology! The era of mind over matter!

A noble cause it is, on second thought,

Worth sacrificing my birthday spotlight

Putting up with sanctimonious Jupiter

Here I go then! Spring my rings one last time.

Let’s go Jupe that Jupiter one more time.

Who’s the master? Who’s the slave? Who’s to say?

Father Sun, I may not be first in line,

but in our backyard of the Milky Way,

Planet Saturn is second to no one.
“Soulistic” Selfies
Tags: Self Reflection, Prompt, Energy, Short Story, Personal Growth

Photo by Elisa Michelet on Unsplash

“Soulistic” Selfies

When we constantly see ourselves, how do we see personal growth? Do we take “selfies of our soul”? How can we do that? One way I do it is to write and share. I look at the feedback I get from people I trust to be honest with me. I think we can be our own worst critics. We see the distance to go instead of turning around and seeing how far we have come. I take that input and I humbly pat myself on the back and get back to work. I also have read old posts that I have submitted and look at the depth of the dive I took in my writing. I look at the subject of those dives. I have at times said to myself “I don’t believe I brought that up”.

It is not just in the articles that I write. It is also in the feedback that I give. I sometimes expose more of myself in a response than I do in an article. I do that because the author has sparked a nerve or I shared a vulnerability with them to let them know they are not alone or unique in having that happen or feeling that way. I push to be as genuine as I can in the moment when I do that. I also see in doing that that it is not always a linear path. Often times it is more of a dance a couple steps forward and a few steps back.

I measure my personal growth in what I am comfortable sharing. I measure my personal growth in not feeling pain or feeling reduced pain when someone’s story resonates with something that has happened in my past. Joseph mentioned an accident with a paint brush last week in an article. It caused me to remember back to my youth about being yelled at from dripping paint on the floor. Just a memory that popped up but a painless one.

I measure my personal growth by noticing when I feel agitated in traffic. It now registers when it happens. I self-talk. You just lost your patience. This is a lesson in patience. You are going to get where you are going. I calm down quicker. I measure my growth in proactively being positive with people. I enter the gym thinking smile, make a positive comment to the person at the desk. I get in line to check out at the grocery store and proactively think of something cheerful to say or to make a joke. To thank them for being there.

I know I have grown as a person because you tell me I have. I know I have grown as a person because much more often I am responding to situations with conscious thought rather than reacting to them. I know I am growing as a person because I am daily looking for beauty in a sunrise or sunset. I look at the impact I am having on other people in my life instead of just being worried about me.
Rock Steady
By: Ann Marie Steele
Tags: Prompt, Rhyming Poetry, Boy Toy, Silly, Female Sexuality

Rock Steady

Photo by Erik Lucatero on Unsplash

She-mature orgasm

That’ll ruin the show

Marriage before fornication

Hon, who would even know?

Crocodile tears you fake

Boy, you’re just goin’ cray-cray

So, I whisper sweet nothings

Can’t we just do fun things?

Bend over and show me

That spec-muscular bootie

Rope you up nice and tight

As we cock steady all night.

Your leather to my lace

Not a race, just keep pace

Spill me some sugar

Come tickle my feather.

Call me or text?

Sure won’t wait by MY phone

Such sizzling sex but

Grab your pants, just go home.

~Well, this role reversal prompt could have taken many turns, but I couldn’t stop thinking about premature ejaculation, how this must REALLY suck for men, and that there is no way that a woman can even relate. Our sexual pleasure can be so covert and mysterious! ?We can fake it all night long! So, please don’t judge as this poem is a bit raunchy and silly. You can find J.D. Harms' Saturday Poetry Prompt by following this magnanimous link:

Ann Marie Steele
Why Do I Read and Write?
By: Karen Madej
Tags: Reading, 2020, Culture, Prompt, Writing

Why Do I Read and Write? Prompted by Emily-Jane Rafferty’s Why We desperately Need Creative Writing in 2020, I felt compelled.

Reading fiction, in all forms from whatever young age I was capable of reading, has continued throughout my life. Writing first came in essays at school and letters to the government on subjects about which I felt passionately.

As they are wont to do, life and career forced me to write passive business emails and reports. The only reading for pleasure achieved was of the latest bestsellers on a beach twice a year.

Eleven years ago, I had a lot of time on my hands and a scarcity of books, so I started a blog. It gave meaning to my existence on a barren Atlantic island.

I haven’t looked back since then. Honing my writing skills, reading for research for my passion pieces, and still reading for pleasure.
Slice of life observed or staying out of the rat race
By: Anoop Singh
Tags: Life, Prompt, Hope, Storytelling, Rat Race

Slice of life observed or staying out of the rat race Anoop Singh ·Dec 13, 2020

Sometimes the truth feels like lies and all the lies are trying to convince me that they are the truth. The truth about what ? The truth about my happiness, my confidence, my belief, about myself. Sometimes the time it’s hard to believe that you are doing right, because of all the stigma about life, how it should be lived. you are not allowed to change your path of this rat race. It feels like you have to fight with yourself first what do you really want, even you know the reality but to make a belief you need to understand yourself so that some random person did not hurt you about your own beliefs about yourself, what do you really want, even though you already know.
Etymological Coupling
By: Anthi Psomiadou
Tags: Spiritual Weekly Prompt, Spiritual Tree, Prompt, Spirituality, Connection

Connection<= Com(together)+nectere=to bind/tie/unite (in Latin)

People often feel connected, united, attracted to each other out of insecurity, narcissism, fear of loneliness, dependence, the need of possessiveness, or to fill a gap, and more. Though beautiful things are also experienced in that context, a really substantial connection has always autonomy as a prerequisite. Because without being free from things like that, we somehow bring them into the bond, provoking …short-circuits to the invisible “wire-system” of the connection.

Just like the connection between humans, for our unification with our upper counterparts/god/the divine to be fully uncovered, and for our connection with “it” to be gradually “upgraded”, we have to liberate ourselves, to deal with our personality’s inner battles, matters, and “monsters”; for luminous vertical bridges to be uncovered everywhere.
🌞 Sunny Side Updates ft. bookworms and a special experiment!
By: Lucy Dan 蛋小姐, She Her 她
Tags: Updates, Poetry Prompts, Prompts

🌞 Sunny Side Updates ft. bookworms and a special experiment!

Photo by Melanie Lim on Unsplash

The Brain is a Noodle*

*This is factually incorrect. Please absolutely do not go out and eat brains.

🍜 Piping Hot New(dle) Pieces of the Week

Challenge: *highlight* the ones you bookmarked/ read and make sure everyone gets highlighted at least once! ❤

ft. the most creative card ever! by Jenine Bsharah Baines

such a delicious recipe for tea 🍵 by Dr. Fatima Imam

mmm BREAD 🍞🥖 by R. Rangan PhD

something to ponder about by R. Rangan PhD

we all have that ONE by Dr. Jackie Greenwood

a mindfulness acrostic poem! by Ntathu Allen

a quick piece to go with your afternoon tea! by Telling You Something

yes, those first waking moments … by Denise G

so many book-themed pieces this week! by Fatima Imam

spying the incongruous systems by Jac Gautreau

oh how I miss that idle commute time (surprisingly!) by Punch Drunk Cola

Read this Poem! by Jac Gautreau

an emotional piece by Hyder Yahya

An ode to unread books!!!!!!!!! (too relatable) by R. Rangan PhD

does this describe you EXACTLY? by Veronica Georgieva

you know how I feel about eggs ❤ by Michael Ranjitsingh

Such a heartwarming piece! ❄ by Jennifer S.

asldkjhasldkjasdh i need this right now by Rochelle Silva

a reminder to us all by James G Brennan

such an empowering piece! by Krupesh Raikar

iguanas honestly seem so cool though! by Daniel A. Teo

you had me at cheesecake! by Carolyn Hastings

a deep self-reflection by Pretheesh Presannan

DID THIS EXPERIMENT WORK?????? by Michael Burg, MD
Triumphant, At Last
By: Ravyne Hawke
Tags: Free Verse, Spirituality, Self Improvement, Prompt, Poetry

How fragile and afraid was I dwelling there with you

giving to you what I couldn’t begin to give to others

nor to myself — unconditional love and total devotion

and I fell for your false pretenses, your veiled lies

became consumed by your gifts of comfort and avoidance

You became the sole keeper of all my deepest secrets

carried my pain and shame into every rooted tree

diluted my guilt in every brook, lake and vast ocean

and I thought if I could just remain here with you

and be swept into the undercurrents, I’d be saved

But you soon became a cruel and demanding mistress

and for a while, I was your willing, faithful slave

I thought it best to serve this familiar depravity

remain chained here in the underbelly of darkness

than take my chances in an uncertain, unknown world



So night after night, I slept in your cold embrace

breathing you in as I exhaled my own essence out

And in dreams, battles raged between light and dark

as light beings struck blows upon my dark mistress

and I would awaken, covered in sweat and confusion

Each morning I’d noticed small chinks in my chains

felt tiny bolts of energy course through my being

And I pondered if my mistress noticed dancing light

circling about my feet and slowly travelling upwards

or hear an angelic chorus singing lightly in my ears

And then one night, I felt you flee from our embrace

As my eyes blinked open, a bright light burst forth

I was encircled by light beings with outstretched hands

beckoning to me — and their voices whispering, Come

So enchanted, I arose and followed them into the light

Now that I’ve abandoned all the pain, guilt and shame

left it all buried deep within the earth, raging in waves

and taken up this armor of fearlessness and freedom

I know that love cannot linger lifeless in the void

but must be released in abundance to an uncaring world

© 2020 Lori Carlson. All Rights Reserved.