Happy Feline Friday!
Ragtag Daily Prompt Post: Hungry
My cat Sylvester chowing down on his Fancy Feast canned meat food. Next to him is his Bowl of dry crunchy food. Sylvester prefers the wet meat food.
Author: dancingpalmtrees
An African/Native American Queen, Wordsmith, Photographer, Free Spirit and Teacher.
Stepping to the Brooklyn Boogie Baby
Springtime Soulful Strut Stepping to the Brooklyn Boogie Baby!
Stepping to the Brooklyn Boogie Baby
Walking Wednesday
Now that the weather in Brooklyn is getting Warmer I often apply conditioner and/or essential oils to my hair. That way both my body and my hair get conditioned. I feel like the product is being better absorbed while I’m walking.
Then whenI get home I give my hair a good rinse.
Memorial to Fallen Firefighters
Take The Extra Steps
Changing My Story Step by Step.
Take The Extra Steps
Footsteps to Fitness
Successful Soulful Strut Steps
An Abandoned Prayer
An Abandoned Prayer
Like a Prayer abandoned on the Street. Entangled in bristles, thistles and Thorns. Tassles of Arteries and veins held together with dirt, clay and determination.
Hunchbacks of soil encase S-shaped spine. Skewers of sticks, rocks and Bones pierce my sides.
Roots pulled violently from the Earth yet not pulled apart. Therein lies my hidden strength. Palatine Realms are found in Dead Doorways.
Muscles and sinews exposed to unfamiliar daylight.
Souls came with me as I was ripped from my terrestrial womb. Eruptions of long gone Voices suddenly displaced from home. Not so Silent surrender. Songs and Dreams dispersed floating driftfully seeking sanctuary.
Head bent forward. Seated alone while being ignored by passersby.
Will I become sawdust or mulch washed away by the rain. The Valued parts of me became a plank, a board, an Artist Table.
Am I not as good as those housed in white walled sepulchres?
Then came one who saw my deeply entrenched Holy Beauty.
She who with loving rituals committed my energy to time and eternity. My Memory lives on Thanks to Her. Cosmic Travel lives on.
I see you She said. I see the authentic natural real you.
Sob Sister Fell on Her Sword
Sob Sister Fell on Her Sword
Sob Sister Fell on Her Sword. She declined to Renew Her Invitation to the Disease of the Month Club by Ending it All in One Final Gesture.
You look at my like unfamiliar terrain you thought you knew so well.
You search the portals of my Eyes seeking redemption. 404 Message Not Found.
She realized that She had become a source of entertainment and jest. An Object of Pity and Not So Secret Scorn.
She issued an Edict, Going forward There will be No More Celebration of sickness, illness or disease! NEVER AGAIN!
Is this the real me or shall I search for another? Which version? Which flavor? Which make and model?
She laughed with the Wisdom of old age and hindsight. Laughing their words to scorn.
I am Not the Story you Created for Me!
Floods quenched and extinguished the once Fiery Spirit into calm Lakes and gentle ponds.
You think that you know someone but you only know the mask they present to you on that specific day and time.
Don’t get it twisted!
You can never be sure who’s behind the mask.
The Main Ingredient — Everybody Plays The Fool
Paul McCartney– Fool on The Hill
Impaled Sob Sister Sank Deeper and deeper into the Ground which had turned to Quicksand eagerly anticipating its evening meal.
She died. She died. She died.
And We are So Glad that she’s Done.
Many Rivers to Cross by Jimmy Cliff
Espiritu en Fuego/A Fiery Spirit 