REAL by Lilija Valis

          Someone was asked if there were any real atheists.
         Do you think, he answered, that there are any real Christians?
                                                                 — Denis Diderot (1713-1784)

Is anyone real?

I mean, is anyone One?

Or does everyone

and everything

have the opposite mixed in?

A saint commits a sin,

a criminal acts generously,

a soldier brings about peace,

a pacifist invites war.

Good can produce bad,

and bad bring forth good.

Certainly carries doubt.

Love can turn to hate in a split second

and hate can fall into love

against the will of the both.

Maybe that works best.

Don’t blame me.

I didn’t create the world.

Though I did my part

in reshaping society

and, forgive me, if it’s not

all the better for it.


© 2011 Lilija Valis

E:  lilijavalis@gmail.com

Returning - Lesley Prentis

Returning
©2008 Lesley Prentis
Starter was: “In the light of distant civilization he could see his ancestors stir in the totem…”

I no longer stand straight and tall
I now lean a little more each year
Eventually my light will fade
And I will lie
Embraced by the land
Where my end will come
In slow decay
Returning to the soil
That which gave me life.

My children have moved on
To new lands and new homes
Remembering dimly
The stories of our ancestors
Theirs and mine
In time they will make new stories.

Even if the sun should set - Kayla Feenstra

Even if the sun should set
©2008 Kayla Feenstra

Stars in her eyes
But the sun hasn’t set
they shimmer
and she dances
innocent, perhaps
but so wise
and she stops to pick up
her fancy
She won’t remember
what it was
but I will
and I watch, enthralled
and enchanted
her feet catching
small leverages to higher ground…
always higher farther, more
with her, never satisfied
her insatiable thirst for
beauty applauds me
I have succeeded
my work is done—
she will look always to the skies
the mountains, the trees, always up,
never to the rocks, the weeds,
the dirt, the garbage – down
and as she holds the
pink-glassed seashell
next to her ear
I wonder what great sage
has been hidden inside,
whispering lost secrets
and promises for joy
and love and happiness,
always dancing
with stars in her eyes,
even if the sun should set
and the day turn black.

And the ferry sales by... - Barbara Coleman

And the ferry sails by…
©2008 Barbara Coleman
Story starter was: “And the ferry sails by, a passenger waving and pointing at me……”

And on the ferry sailing by a passenger was waving and pointing at us, or at least that was what it seemed to all the passengers on my side.

Anyone who takes the ferry from Tsawwassen to Victoria knows at approximately mid-point the ferries pass each other. Our passengers looked at each other in wonderment. Was there a problem with our vessel that we were not aware of?

Only I knew the secret. My love as waving and pointing at me.