Where is help?
Who is the guardian of this world?
Who is helping to maintain peace?
Our beautiful world is crashing
like the waves on the shores
And carrying it all out to open, endless waters.
Who will throw a life saver?
Who will save those who are drowning?
©2020 CBialczak Poetry
Written for Sue Vincent’s #writephoto: https://scvincent.com/2020/05/28/thursday-photo-prompt-guardian-writephoto/
Spread the words of Martin Luther King Jr. https://www.nobelprize.org/prizes/peace/1964/king/lecture/
The leader of our country should be the first person to lead the country in the right way! Discrimination and Racism is disgusting!
We need words and acts of wisdom, ethics and compassion, from our leaders now more than ever. Since this is utterly lacking, take heart from the words of a truly gifted leader that could never be more relevant than today.
“Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly.”
“Letter from Birmingham Jail,” April 16, 1963
“Out of the mountain of despair, a stone of hope.”
“I Have a Dream”, Washington, D.C., August 28, 1963
My heart breaks for George Floyd, his family, and our country. Are we not better people than this?
There are no cheers…
View original post 5 more words
Words: order, whiskey, empty, lift, touch, frothy, dish, singe, breathe, cottage, eggs, smoke
Bill lifted his head off the pillow with a groan. Had he really been the only one to empty that bottle of cheap whiskey? It had been years since he had touched the stuff and now here he was beginning a whole new chain of events that start his path to nowhere.
Last night he remembered walking into the bar on South Street. He was hit with a wall of smoke that singed his lungs, making it hard to breathe. Sitting at the end of the bar he had wanted to order a beer, the frothy head leaving a light mustache above his upper lip. He couldn’t recall now what had made him change his mind.
Running to the bathroom, Bill recalled ordering a dish of hash and eggs; both of which were creeping up his throat, ready to erupt like a giant volcano out of his mouth. He never did learn that eating and whiskey did not go well together.
Bill reached the toilet in the cottage just in time to retch into the bowl, rather than the floor or the tub. That made his life a little easier, just not less painful or humiliating. The worst part of it all was that he couldn’t recall who he talked to last night and what he may have said. Would he be able to show his face at work after a night like that?
©2020 CBialczak Fiction