I am a widow since 2013 and live by myself in a small apartment. I use a wheelchair to get around, but I wouldn't consider myself disabled. I'm 11 years away from having bladder cancer resulting in a urostomy and I'm doing well. This cancer was a result of having radiation in 1995 because of uterine cancer. So have faith in yourself, a cancer diagnosis is not a death sentence. My first try at blogging was an attempt to help other people with my condition. I am a mother of three married children, and a grandmother to eight gorgeous kids, featuring them often here, and a great grandmother to two as of today, 6/7/25! I enjoy exploring my feelings and like to try the challenges. I like humor, music, movies, games, and some sports. I absolutely appreciate your reading and commenting on my blog. I am happy to read all of your blogs and learn more about you. Please comment however you like, ask whatever, and I'll answer honestly. Thanks for reading! Cheryl
Apparently the vault of human beasts opened and tides of smoke and debris started to slather innocent victims. The flood of armed men creeped down the salty crusted edges of the shore. One of the soldiers tilted to the side picking up an old broken shark jaw. He thought it was a weapon, shining from a silver glint in the moonlight. I stopped my needles, faulted a stitch on the red hat I was knitting listening to helpless voices, my defiant knitting act resumed.
I choose this song because when I first heard it I could not get it out of my head. Today I think this equates to many of the displaced people taken by ICE.
Thanks Sadje for this question because I was just reading a second prompt response after writing my own and it hit me how fun it is to see how many different interpretations end up in a poem or story or photo. This is a great place to be even though there are problems with WordPress. I think this community is a unique interaction with as you say, people all over the world. Maybe some politicians should try it! See, that last sentence may upset some people, thinking, can’t she just write something palatable without the P? I try, but unlike my efforts in 2016 when I started this blog for entirely different reasons, I now feel emboldened to say what I think. And of course we don’t all agree but what fun it is for me to sit and write. My poems are usually like my stories, off the cuff. I’m sure part of that is because I no longer have many conversations with others since I moved and everyone around me took jobs and time is short. The result is, I bare my soul here and enjoy reading the ideas from other bloggers. Might not say evolve but hopefully improve?😄
The old witch’s hands grew tired. It had been a while since she had to use them this way. Most of the time her wand did the dirty work. She dropped the rat skull into the bowl and picked up the heavy pestle. Her fingers complained as she ground the small bones to a powder. She sighed as the preparation for the “spell of youth” process began.
The playful pirate decided to declare his love in a special public place, the Skull and Bones Pub. His fiancé was less than impressed by his choice of venue, but decided her sweetheart was trying to do his best. He stood atop the bar and spilled a cup of sugar around pronouncing he was soon to be wed to a “woman sweeter than this sugar”. At least that’s what his efforts produced, and she, though embarrassed, decided he was the loveliest man in the room.
A padlock, yes a padlock! What an idea, they chimed in as a group Maybe it would deter from that alphabet soup You know, the drivel he spits every day The words spout out like fountain spray The dementia, the cruelty, hate No words of friendship or love been spake Yes, padlock!
It was zenosyne, she was sure of it. How else could she have fallen so fast and settled so softly? She wanted to scream, but no sound came from her lips. Her body separated from the chain and fell into the narrowcrack of the rocks. They thought she would die from the fall. At the very least it should have snapped her ankle. But she was saved. Somehow the chain broke and saved her foot. She was free, but also wedged between the rocks. A blackbird landed close by and decided there was no food here because the human was still alive. His beak was hoping for a piece of her flesh for a tasty morsel. He cawed madly to scold her, he was so disappointed. Her captors above were looking to see if she was moving, but not wanting to climb down to investigate. Hoping they would think she was dead, she dared not move from her position. Just wait till dark she thought to herself. Then I can make my escape. She waited in pain for the sun to set. She looked up and saw no one, so started to move cautiously. A small bit at a time and she could free herself. The end of the chain still attached to her ankle provided some leverage to loosen the rock’s grip. Now was her chance. She slipped out of the narrow space and limped into the river. The cold water soothed her injuries. She would follow the river bank to the safety of her family’s campsite.
The Bag Lady 
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