Esther Chilton

Your writing prompt this week is

ANGEL

The first thought that comes into my mind when I see this word is ‘guardian angel’ and, for me, that’s my cat, Lexi. She’s with me all the time and if I’m feeling a bit low, she’ll know and reach out a paw to let me know she’s there. What do you think of? A messenger from God? A good person? Or something else?

Fact or fiction, prose or poetry, I would love to read your thoughts on this week’s prompt, but there’s no obligation to share your writing. Here is the work you shared on the last prompt SAVE.

Michnavs:

Unbroken

i am no damsel in distress,
so i don’t need someone
to save me.
every woman must learn
to stand in the brilliance
of her own strength,
her own untamed power.

we are not extensions
of anyone else.
not just somebody’s partner,
someone’s mother,
or a convenient friend
filling the spaces
in another life.

we are whole.
we are sovereign.
we carry names
that do not require
permission to matter.

we are our own identity—
our own rising force—
with or without the titles,
beyond the expectations,
outside the boundaries
culture tries to draw
around our fire.

we stand
because we choose to.
we burn, because we were born to.

Frank Hubeny:

Jesus Saves

If you would let Him, He would save.
If not, then worry: Where’s my grave?

Pensitivity101:

Well, this is a little different from saving money or being a goalie!
When you are short of space, little things like this are a life saver.
They come in various colours, some oval like this one, circular, rectangular or square, but this little space saving device works well indoors or out for the ‘smalls’ or socks.

Therapy Bits:

In the quiet room where soft light falls,
I learned the courage to name my walls.
You sat with me as the shadows grew,
A steady presence I never knew.

My voice was small, but you heard it clear—
The trembling truth, the buried fear.
You didn’t rescue me with grand displays,
But gently cleared the tangled maze.

You showed me strength I couldn’t see,
A path back home inside of me.
Each tear I shed, you helped me brave,
And in that space, you taught me save—

To save my breath, my hope, my fire,
To hold my heart when it felt tired.
And though the journey’s mine to live,
You offered grace I could not give.

Now when the darkness starts to roam,
I hear your words and find my home.
Not rescued, no—but understood,
And in that, somehow, I’m finally good.

John W. Howell:

“I need a soul to save.”

“Get down to Earth and pick one.”

“I don’t know where to look.”

“Pick any bar. There’ll be one needing saving there.”

“I don’t know. Bars are so dark.”

“You want light?”

“Yeah, someplace nice and clean.”

“Got it. Here take this card. Go to that address.”

“What is it.”

“The biggest call center in the US. Plenty of souls needing saving there.”

“Since when do Spammers have souls?”

Teleportingweena:

We had a thrift store here called Savers, which we loved going to. We could find lots of good used things there. But one day we went and the store had closed down. They were just gone, and we were disappointed. There are others in town, but none as good as this one was.

Savers Savers where did you go

You disappeared –  we not to know

We were going to go buy some stuff

But when we got there you’d gone in a puff

You were my favorite fun thrift store

And now I have none forever more

Jules Pens Some Gems:

Savoring Nature

I could not save
The thirty five year old
Willow tree, but
I could save a thin finger
A small branch
That I over wintered
In a pot in my porch
For two years…
And that tree is now
In the ground close
To where her mother was.

I’ve put some netting
Around the sapling
And filled dry leaves
Around the little ‘trunk’
To perhaps save it
From the gopher
Who has eaten other
Saplings – like the one
I gave to a neighbor
Years ago…
Some trees have short lives.

We can’t plant every seed or save every cutting
Some seeds are food, some cuttings become mulch
Some herbs overwinter near or on
The bay window that gets morning light
The dill had aphids so I didn’t bring it inside…
But I’ve saved parsley, rosemary,
And green onions and a stray snap dragon flower.
The marigolds, mums and alyssum still bloom outside
As does my strange forsythia …
It just depends on how much rain and warmth
Some of the forsythia get…

The Bag Lady:

Save us from this calamity

Who speaks with hilarity

Take his presence from the post

Give him what he wants most

An audience of sycophants

Who gladly do the “yes” dance

The crowds of weak and spineless men

Who choose not to remember when

These tactics caused a world at war

Just who was he elected for?

He needs a golden mirror image

Never plays to the right homage –

For the people, not for him

He treats his job as just a whim

Money and gold he piles and skims

Send him on a golden boat

To a castle with a high moat

So high he cannot escape

Remove his phone and audio tapes

Let us breathe free air again

Bring back our country’s freedom reign.

Richmond Road:

So dark out here. It smells like fear
Music beats.
Guns on the streets
And sheets of rain keep falling
I’m looking back, along the track
From where my ghost is calling
Don’t know what it is I miss the most
Overdosed on what’s behind
The streets down here are lined with gold
I’m told there’s no more gold to find
Whatever happened to those days way back?
When the world was safe, and seemed worth saving?
The future just ignores my gaze
And from the past that ghost keeps waving

Poetisinta:

The Dredging

I dredge through my thoughts

fishing for ideas in this deep sea

now so dark and murky,

listening to the clanking and scraping

of chains clearing the channels

of hidden hopelessness;

I throw a pebble and watch the ripples

as it plunges into the deep,

and I wonder…

if I dredged all my negative thoughts,

could I save the world,

or could I just save me?

Cathy Cade:

Money-saving?

Laws on misleading ads and such, the government wants to tweak
to save us from those “clearance sales” that “have to end next week”.
Black Friday deals are offered ever earlier in November,
but what about the others who mislead – not just the vendors?

Save us from celebrities, reality TV,
and online “influencers”, who tell us how to be,
and dodgy snake-oil supplements whose science base is nebulous.

Why bother though? They’ll soon find other ways to dupe the credulous.

method two madness:

I am
ephemera–
the residue
of paper and glue

maybe saved
but maybe
not—no one
sees me now–

I am
neither lost
nor found–
just here

Do visit the post to see the wonderful collages – here

Dawgy Daddy Responds:

Who knows?

The juice I’ve drank from the black beans of beauty have me running in circles today while trying to maintain a sense of rationality. A simple thread of insanity is stretched thin and the only way to save it is to eat some of my favorite three foods. If etouffee, biscuits & gravy or pizza bones doesn’t work I will have to avoid going to the kitchen counter and re-filling my cup of love until I can break the chains of confusion.

panaecea:

Saving My Soul Aka Stomach

It’s highly debatable whether the stomach is the gateway to a more nourished soul. A happy stomach is undoubtedly a mind booster. Our ancient sages say that the purification of body and mind is essential for an upliftment of the soul. Taking a cue from that I’ll say a satisfied and well functioning stomach is a lubricant for the mind and coolant for the soul. 😂😂

After the multiple surgeries of the intestines I have become very conscious of my body, specifically, my stomach. Though my surgeon complains that I listen too much to my body. That apart, it is his strictest instruction to see how my stomach reacts to food. If it revolts then I need to exclude that particular stuff from my diet. It’s easy to keep a tab on my tummy as it responds immediately. 

That said I do not believe in depriving myself of the savouries. I eat them in small quantities now and not too often. But there are certain cravings which I have to consciously save myself from. First and foremost, the incorrigible salivation for sweets. Please do not expect me to save a box of sweets for days in the fridge and have little by little. I simply can’t.

After every meal I need my tongue to roll over something sinfully sweet. I know why. It’s because I like chatpataa khana ( I make them accordingly) which leaves a tingling taste in my mouth. To balance it out a dollop of sweetmeat is a must.

But the problem is it doesn’t stop there. The day before yesterday I got a small box of motichoor laddus. Lo and behold! It’s finished in one and a half days!! Ohhh 😦😦

The next red flag is junk, especially, chips – the spicier the better, nutcrackers – crunchy, tangy masala peanuts coated in chickpea batter – fried of course and such others!! But I have found a way to minimize the consumption. I buy the smaller packs now –  Rs.10/- or Rs. 20/- a packet – which is half empty. The vendor says that we are actually paying for the air inside the tetra pack. But that’s fine for gluttons like me. 😁😁

I am pining for street food which is absolutely banned for me. No outside food. But we do have branded outlets for these sinful savours. The surgeon has even given me permission to have them once in a blue moon. Though with a caveat, “Try once and see how your gut behaves.” And that’s what has stayed me put. The fear of the outcome.  😨 😨

But what is life without a little bit of deviation. And one such detractor is Maggi – the 2 Minutes Instant Noodles – Masala or Chicken flavour – any. I just can’t get over them. No saving here. But again I am groaning under self imposed embargos – only once or twice a week. That’s all. 😆😆

And then the crispy samosas with lipsmacking chhole and green mint chutney and red tamarind sauce !!! Haven’t had them for aeons. 😢😢

Near the local vegetable market there is a street stall which sells the most awesome bun tikka or burger with a filling of crispy potato tikka with a side dish of onion and cucumber salad and the yummiest red sauce. I don’t visit the market anymore. So no more bun tikkas. 😭😭

Well, it’s better to have minimal quantities at longer intervals rather than total renunciation. The latter may make me healthier but at the cost of psychosomatic repercussions. So I give in to the former. 😛😛

And it’s not that I am emptying out all my savings on them. Just a wee bit though.

Moral of the day : Be wickeder to deal with life’s wicked challenges WITHOUT an iota of guilt.

Ruth Blogs Here:

When Art Mirrors Life

In the three years since I took up painting as a hobby, I’ve not only learned a lot about art, but also about life.

I’ve learned that creativity requires much more curiosity and courage than I’d imagined, and a lot less control. Excessive control only closes things down and narrows the possibilities. It restricts me to what I already know, not what might be if only I took the risk to find out.

And since I started applying that philosophy to life, too, I am much happier in myself.

I’ve learned that creativity never runs out – it’s not that you start out with a full tank at the beginning of your life and have to use it sparingly because eventually you will be running on fumes. In fact, creativity works more like a dynamo – the more creative moves you make, the more creative energy you generate.

Just like the more I do with my life, the more energy I find to do it with.

I’ve learned that as my creativity will never run out, I don’t need to become over-attached to and save every piece of artwork I’ve ever made in my life. Not everything is precious, and nothing will be perfect. If it’s good enough, if I like it enough, then by all means keep it to enjoy. But if I don’t, then simply learn whatever I need to take from the experience and move on.

I’ve learned that the process matters more that the product – creativity is not so much about making SOMETHING but about MAKING something – it’s about enjoying the present journey moment by moment more than focusing on the potential future destination. Paying attention here and now is where it’s at. And if you end up somewhere wonderful, that’s great – but don’t forget to enjoy the ride.

I’ve learned that when things don’t work out first time, don’t just quit at the first hurdle – embrace the challenge and find another way to get over it, or choose another path and go round it, because all creativity counts, there is no right way or wrong way. There is just your way, and it is important that you learn you are always enough.

In life as in art, you are always enough ❤

Robbie’s Inspiration:

Granadilla Ice Cream

When Cath and I were young girls living in Fishhoek in the Western Cape, we liked to walk to the beach after school and play with other local children.

One day, when our stay in Fishhoek was drawing to a close as our family was moving to a suburb called Kirstenhof the following week, I met a new girl at the beach. She had recently come to live with her grandparents in Fishhoek and her grandfather had brought her to the beach for the afternoon. Strangely, I was not curious about the unusual circumstances of this girl and did not wonder why she was living with her grandparents when all the other children lived with their parents. Divorce was rare then and I didn’t know any children from broken homes. I didn’t even know about the concept of divorce.

This girl and I spent the afternoon together building sandcastles from the wet sand and swimming in the surf. She told me that she was going to try out to be a ‘nipper’ the following week. I worked out that a nipper was a junior lifeguard and it sounded glamorous to be one. I heard all about the practice sessions and how the children had to swim lengthily distances out to sea, under the watchful eye of the qualified life guards, to strengthen their bodies and improve their swimming. They were taught basic first aid including mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. I was so caught up in the idea of being a nipper that I told a lie and said I was also a nipper and I would see her at the practice sessions.

A while later, the girl’s grandfather came over as it was nearly time for them to go home. She excitedly told him that I was already a nipper and that we could continue the friendship at the practice sessions. The elderly man was pleased and bought us both a granadilla ice cream before the pair left a short while later.

I felt ever so guilty about creating this tall story and whenever I see or smell granadillas, I remember this occasion and I wonder if the girl and her grandfather were disappointed when I didn’t show up the following week. I don’t like granadillas.

granadilla smell

brings back guilty memory

lying never pays

Thru Violet’s Lentz:

Looking In

She grew up in a world that demanded compliance.  Where the art of shifting personas became a tool of survival. There she learned to be obedient when surveilled, invisible when it was safer, and agreeable- even when her every instinct ached to rebel.

By the time she reached adulthood, she had become fluent in vanishing. Like ash caught on a gust of wind- she would just blow away- go somewhere else, be someone else-

She could be warm, witty, kind, dependable- for a moment. But when the instinct to escape would arise, she’d just disappear again.

Over the years she watched her own life as though from behind a pane of glass- close enough to fog it with her breath, yet somehow never an active participant. Every relationship, borrowed. Every place, temporary. She existed in the margins, never quite inhabiting her own story.

She is old now- older than she ever expected herself to be- and running is not the option that it once was. So today, she reinvents herself on the page. 

She writes to understand. She writes to forgive. She writes to save herself.

And one from Ladyleemanila on the previous prompt FISH:

When fish runaway, I snapped
My breath so cold and blue grass flapped
Overlapping season I crack
With you it’s like seeping white wine
Giving you my all, limb and spine
Rushing to get out of my track
Don’t runaway, lots of stones
Here lies my love, says the gravestone
And all I have is my backpack

***

Image credit: Freepik