Pranked

https://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/2017/08/05/wordle-311/

A simmered color flushed Calla’s

Cheeks and throat to match the punch

She’d mixed to a tsunami froth.

What was the matter What was the matter??

The matter was that she was meeting her

Mother-in-law for the first time…

The mom from the nether world,

A documented nut-case whom family

Members kept in chains in the cellar

When she’d burst into fits of glossolalia.

And this very moment she was

Walking through Calla’s door.

Calla mopped her face with cool water,

Smoothed her apron-covered house dress.

On the surface, Mrs Giblet looked nice enough.

The two women smiled nervously at each other.

“Calla, I’m so pleased to finally make your

Acquaintance.  I wasn’t sure what to bring—

Hope you’ll like it.”

She handed Calla a bottle which looked to

Hold fancy liqueur…but Calla was wary:

Might be toxic, stirred up in the cellar’s cauldron…

Mother Giblet tapped the label lightly—

“Forgive my bragging, I created and named it,

And it won a gold medal:  ‘Lovers Punch’—

Would you care to try some?”

Calla glanced surreptitiously at her own

Punch bowl, discreetly covered.

“Why, yes—it couldn’t hurt to have

Just a sip before dinner.”

She discovered it had the smoothest

Fruity blend she’d ever tasted.

Calla looked at her husband, Moke—

Who was trying to hide a grin—then

Realized the truth:  she’d been pranked.

This warm and lovely woman wasn’t a

Dungeon Queen who boiled potions…

And possibly daughters-in-law.

She wasn’t scary at all.

©Jael Sook, 2017 All rights reserved.

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Sailing

https://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/2017/07/29/wordle-310/

We set sail on a sliver of star shine

Stitched into dusk with scent of moonflower.

The sun had made a slow surrender, its heat

Subsiding as we marked more than one

Forgotten anniversary with this long-delayed

Trip…away from phone calls, meetings, the

Press and stress of professional duties.

When we married, I promised to

Follow his dreams—perhaps an

Archaic template for matrimony, but

I was consumed by surprising passion…

How easily the heart can bend when

Softened by the tenderness of strength and

Character which have nothing to prove.

We scan the perfect indigo sky

Together, arm in arm.

I don’t like sailing, never have—

But if these are our final hours,

I will slip from life, my heart filled

Only with love’s gratitude.

©Jael Sook, 2017 All rights reserved.

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Courage

https://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/2017/07/22/wordle-309/

Sometimes life falls on you like a beam

There was nothing to do

But shake off the mean past

Pick up the pieces

Of poor-born dreams

Tie them with heart-string

And carry what remained

Of our shredded souls

To the sea ~

It was the one place

Where, if something might

Trigger hard-edged memories,

Salty foam would heal unseen

Cuts, bruises; wash away the

Old, as sand scrubbed us new.

Grabbing a stick of bleached

Driftwood, my flawed hero

Pushed it firmly in the ground,

A marker post for first steps

Into fragile Future—

“No more silences, no wondering ~

All thoughts open to the light.”

©Jael Sook, 2017 All rights reserved.

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Poet’s Journey

Mocked brutally by mother

Whose heart and womb were

Not connected maternally,

Poet flees storm of familial scorn

To see the world—drink from its

Cream—in hopes of strengthening

Malnourished soul, filling what

Birth cursed, heart’s limitless need.

But the world was no garden

Cornucopia, nor oasis, spiritual teat.

So, drawing from artistic DNA,

She painted her face, smiled behind

Exotic mask of enigma—

Head-snappingly lovely to behold.

Alas, such beauty demands a toll,

Ugly secret none will tell…male hunters

Sought her ‘mid smoke-whiskey nights,

Prized pelt they’d proudly display.

One bleary dawn, she gathered hem

Of sea-silky gown and fled again.

Far from false rapacious society,

She hides away…digs past her own

Skin; deep into sacred center where

The words and wealth, and what is

Holy—wrought before Time, in dust of

God’s stars—resides exactly as He wrote

It… her real story, no fairy tale.

©Jael Sook, 2017 All rights reserved.

https://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/2017/07/15/wordle-308/

Image credit: Pixabay

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No Summers Left

https://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/2017/05/27/wordle-301/

The cold snapped, overlapping summer’s season,

Seeped frigid blue into my limbs, made stiff—

Even as it crimped the garden grass

Where futile floral efforts lay brittle.

Chilled mist cracked voice each time

I breathed, breaking hymns to God in half;

As I skipped stones across the lake—

Now a mirror of ice which proved me old,

With no more summers left.

©Jael Sook, 2017 All rights reserved.

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No Empty Jar

https://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/2017/06/03/wordle-302/

Of God’s mercy, there is no end—

His nature is long-suffering.

Much as His children miss the mark,

We can’t wear rejection’s groove in

His patient Love; there’s no space

Between His heart and ours—no

Distance separates from His embrace*.

Never for His own, is there an

Empty jar, mere dregs to spend.

To give us Heart’s gift, grace,

He spared no cost; paid more than

King’s ransom, as He watched

His Son sigh last breath on cross—

Before death, grave, then

Victory’s resurrection.

All this He offered willingly,

That we might be forever free.

No flighty promise, His covenant

Signed with Christ’s own blood—

It binds with crimson cord

Indestructible, those He calls

Everlastingly.

©Jael Sook, 2017 All rights reserved.

Image credit: Pixabay

More than Conquerors  Romans 8:37-39*
37 No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us. 38 For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor principalities, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, 39 neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.…

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Don’t Swallow the Stone!

https://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/2017/07/01/wordle-306/

A stranger, I’d been advised

Not to expect warm welcome

From the village tribe

I stood far back at the edges

Of the crowd that gathered

Around a stone-bordered hole,

Waiting for anticipated moment

When The Quake would send

Rippling wave ‘neath their feet—

Thus signalling the elders to step up, 

Spit a pebble into abyss of lost souls.

The man whose spit stone caused

A reverberating echo, would own

Treasure yet undisclosed, unknown.

It might be money, property, or the town’s

Youngest virgin—his bride-prize to wed.

Aside from this celebratory event,

There was possibility of secondary,

Quite shuddery, happenstance.

It hadn’t occurred in the past 7 years—

Perhaps, some folks whispered,

The day was well due.

A man too excitable, who lacked stern

Control—might swallow his pebble, and

Choke till he turned death’s dim

Indigo…toppling fast and forever

Into the Hole.

©Jael Sook, 2017 All rights reserved.

Image credit: Pixabay

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