Sunday in sunny Lucca


After a hectic few weeks, I have escaped to the sun in Tuscany.
The family are here too and are busy finding the mercado asI sit with my feet in the pool, just chilling.
As I haven’t written much lately, I thought perhaps you’d like to know that nothing is wrong and I’m enjoying a weeks rest and relaxation, though my 2 year old granddaughter may have other ideas.
A few photos to share

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One Child – for Right2Write Prompt 9 Stop Terrorism


One Child – for Right2Write Prompt 9 Stop Terrorism
Amazing piece, we all should read this

helenvalentina

The death of one child
is the death of the world

Sand arising as mother earth
shakes off her despair
and hungers for an artist’s vision there

Reptile brain awakens
flooding the system
with fear and alarm

The eye watching over us
blinking so slowly
means us some harm

The death of one child
is the death of us all

The universe turns
slow and elliptical
creating and recreating itself through pain

Grasping for a victory
or a vengeance creates
blood on blood

Devastation fields
Streets of fallen limbs
Nothing is good

The death of one child
is the death of the world

(c) Helen Valentina 2013, All Rights Reserved

For Right2Write prompt 9 at http://howanxious.wordpress.com

Checkout the other prompt entries and join in! Spread the word on a prompt on such a vital topic to us all!

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Timeless


Suddenly, it’s Wednesday again and time for Friday Fictioneers (don’t ask, just accept it, we do) ~Writers from all over the globe come together to submit their 100 word stories or poems, inspired by the weekly prompt sent out by our lovely purple leader Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.  It is her birthday today so join me in sending her the warmest of birthday wishes.  HAPPY BIRTHDAY ROCHELLE.   The photo this week comes courtesy of the lady herself, my story follows the photo.

    

Copyright - Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Copyright – Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Genre: Fiction

Word Count: 100

Timeless

“It’s just clutter, nothing of value, why can’t I throw it out?”

“That’s my grandmother’s button tin you’re holding.  Remember how we used the big buttons to teach you to count?”

Laura glared at her mother and sighed.

 “You don’t need any of it.”

“How do you know what I need?”

“I look after you mother, I think I know.”

Isobel watched as her daughter walked around, calculating  how many boxes they’d need.

“Laura, you pop in briefly, collect my prescription, get my groceries, but you can’t give me what I need.”

“And what would that be?”

Isobel smiled

“Time.”