SuziCate's Musings

Posts tagged ‘Sunday Scribblings’



Words escape me

I’ve nothing to say,

Nothing to write

But I can still draw dreams

In sea foam and sand

As I breathe hope

In the salty ocean breeze

And that is enough

When my words are silent as stone

Your winds of love caress my soul

When I am lost between whispers of time,

The breadth of your tenderness

Guides me home again

Sometimes there are no words

To describe how I feel

But I look at you

And my heart smiles,

For now, that is more than enough

Sunday Scribbling’s Prompt: Guidance

 Old Prompt “Enough” from Big Tent Poetry

In Memory Of Camille

They went to work, visited folks,

tended their farms, and ventured out to play.

They cooked, cleaned, and shopped.

It was nothing extraordinary, just another day.

Until the Heavens broke beneath a veil of darkness,

and the pounding rains came beating down.

Twenty-five inches in just five hours time,

life as they knew it was no where to be found.

Lives that were not stolen in the night

were shattered like shards of broken glass.

Mountains tumbled, and fields became rivers,

devastating a once lush green land mass.

Screams muffled by the river’s roar,

survivors clung to life on roof and trees.

Searching through death and ruin, rescuers

hoped to find life and listened for pleas.

People gathered, prayed, and labored

as sorrowful hearts echoed the torn land.

They buried, salvaged, cleared, and rebuilt.

And the strangers they came, offered a hand.

So much happened in so little time ,

what a difference a day can make-

And when our souls are tested,

it’s amazing how much we can take.

When we have God and community,

upon which to lay our burdens down,

we have a place to plant our roots

that is sturdier and trustier than ground.

Scars upon the mountains, hearts, and souls,

but amongst thorns, flowers still grow.

Through love and courage, the people prevail,

and Nelson is still the home I know.

Sunday Scribblings prompt is “What a difference a day can make”.

****This is written about Hurricane Camille that devasted the county I lived in when I was six years old. This tells the story in my other blog. The photograph above the poem is my husband’s grandfather’s home that was destroyed in the flood.

Rock Against Rock

Rock against rock

Animal, man, the hunt, and dance

 Life recorded in stone

Vibrant swirls etched in time

Withstanding years of wind and rain

Rock against rock

That others should know per chance

 Sacredness of the lone

Water and earth divine

Time does not exist in love and pain

Rock against rock

Sticks and stones, water to the flame

A diary on the wall

Left for the world to see

An endurance of the fight

Rock against rock

We are still the same

If we hear the sacred call

To honor our Majesty

And know it is our right

Sunday Scribbling’s Prompt is “Friction”.

The Unwelling

Breath moist against my skin

Your words tickle my ears

And send a flutter through my heart

I rise and fall

With the ease of your air

Our fingers circle and clasp

Like the ring around the moon

Passion and emotion entwined

Love runs in underground springs

And surfaces long enough

To bloom the daffodils

Intense is memory

As if time placed you here now

Sunday Scribblings Prompt is “intense”.

The Inquisition


Sunday Scribblings prompt is “Curious”.

What are we gonna’ do?

We have an appointment.


At the doctor‘s office?


For immunizations.

What’s that?

Shots to keep you from getting sick?

Will it hurt?

It’ll just pinch a bit.

When are we gonna’ get there?

Soon, dear.

How soon?

Very soon.

Who’s going to shoot me?

The nurse.

Why can’t the doctor do it?

Because she has her nurse do it.


So she can see other patients.

How does the nurse know how to do it?

She went to school to learn how.

Are we there yet?

Curious minds want to know!




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