Click Click Clack

Click click clack
Go the keys on my keyboard
Changing the white landscape
Staining it black
Click click clack
Words turn into lines
Trying to make sense
Of images in my mind.
They’re all parts of me
That I’ve click click and clacked
I’ve put myself out there,
Do you see that?
Do you see me,
In the words that you’ve read?
Disjointed, yet flowing
These thoughts in my head?
Click click clack
It grows more intense,
With every word
Line and sentence.
Do you see me?
I must ask again,
Or does my keyboard
Click click clack
In vain?

******

100 Word Challenge

Written for 100 words hosted by Tara at Thin Spiral Notebook. The prompt was “paper“. This was my take. Do check out the other posts. 

Whispered Prayer

As I watch my baby sleeping
And stroke her soft hair
I can’t help but say
An earnest whispered prayer –

I pray you know you are so loved,
And are always surrounded by people who care,
That you have friends
Who will always be there.
That in this scary world
You are always safe
That in the arms of loved ones
You can always find solace
That you grow up to be kind
And help those in distress
That you experience heartbreak
And learn the power of forgiveness.
That you always have a roof
To cover your head
A meal at your table
A pillow and bed.
That you are always gentle
With those not as strong
That you have courage
And fight for those wronged
That you know you are beautiful
No matter what anyone says,
That you chase your dreams
And do well – all your days.

There is so much I pray,
For you, now sleeping so peacefully
But what I want most of all,
Is for you a good person to be.

Roses

roses-66527_1280Everyday for her roses he took
Just to see the way she would look
When the fragrance reached her nose,
He loved moments like those!

Pride got in the way
They split that day,
Years it took
Back to
Look…

Now
Roses
He carries
Wishing he could
Undo past follies
But he’d returned too late
So miserable his fate
For though for her love he still craves,
Those roses lie on her cold stone grave.

Play

swing-339255_640So quiet the streets,
So still those old swings remain.
Breaking that silence
Are mothers long wails of pain –
There’s not a child left to play.

******

Written based on the prompt in The One Minute Writer – Tanka Tuesday. The prompt was “Play“. To learn more about the style of writing. Please check out the original post on TOMW here.