I chuckled reading Billy Joel's We Didn't Start the Fire, It was always burning, since the world's been turning
We didn't start the fire No, we didn't light it, but we tried to fight it. We've lived during some interesting times, haven't we Joy? And it keeps getting stranger every day.
Andy Williams crooning voice singing Somewhere my love is such a beautiful tribute of your life with your husband.
Patron Of Lost Clauses Sad song! With a twist of anger in it. Then, who knows, life may throw a very upbeat song, your way. I certainly hope that for you.
Lyn's a Witchy Woman Your mention of your journals made me smile. My cousin and I, when we were teens, came up with our own alphabet to write in our journals; the main reason was my nosy mother. Then, for years, I wrote using that alphabet. Once, my husband took offense with the alphabet. So afterwards, I just wrote long-hand in countless journals. When we moved from NY to FL in 1992,I got rid of all those journals and kept just one. Still after 1992, I have a huge amount of journals and other note-books and such, and as you say, my kids, too, will be upset with all those things they'll have to get rid of after me.
I think blogging does help us develop our own voice as we write. I keep my journals offline, you know the old-fashioned way with pencil inside a journal book. I have 40 years worth of them, my kids are going to strangle me when they read them or just toss them. Either way, I wrote what I felt at the time.
Prompt:
Take any cliche and subvert it to bring it alive again in a poem or a blog entry.
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Bag of Bones
They said, "This baby, a bag of bones!"
and rattled, "She may not even throw stones"
a bag of bones, where my shadow lies
World War II, macabre with gray skies.
But dreams I've built and spells I've cast,
I charted my course, battled the past.
Alas, today, other lines are drawn,
fears of war wail from dusk to dawn.
Although people speak in whispers low,
in death's embrace, demons can grow.
So, this bag of bones sways and waits...
as, just one click, next war dictates.
Such a shame it is, to undo the seams!
Or let's mend the world, guard our dreams?
I hold my breath and hear the moans
and warnings from all bags of bones.
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