FIFTY WORD STORY – A Path Diverged

It was at the fork in the road that I left them behind. They found the foliage too indistinct; too indecisive, while I thought the western road was more deserving. The autumn leaves rolled through the wind as I trod that path, and they waited for someone better to come.

——

 

Hello there!

 

Did you like this story? Let me know by leaving a like and a comment!

Want to keep up-to-date on all my posts? Follow my blog!

Want to see more of my work? Check out my blog’s site!

Feel free to share any of my work!

 

You can follow me on social media! 🙂

Instagram: @cassadyblog

Twitter: @cassady_orha

Facebook: @cassadyorha

Advertisements

LOVE POEM #92 – SPARE CHANGE

Spare Change

 

It feels dishonest to call her a dime,

a penny, a nickel, or a quarter.

A fifty-cent piece doesn’t do it

and even a silver dollar falls short.

 

She doesn’t slip nicely between the folds

of my freshly bought dark brown wallet

like a twenty dollar bill, creased over

from its dozens of previous owners.

 

She might shine like spare change;

jingle like a pocketful of coins,

perhaps even grin like a president,

but to me, she’s priceless.

——

 

Hello there!

 

Did you like this poem? Let me know by leaving a like and a comment!

Want to keep up-to-date on all my posts? Follow my blog!

Want to see more of my work? Check out my blog’s site!

Feel free to share any of my work!

 

You can follow me on social media! 🙂

Instagram: @cassadyblog

Twitter: @cassady_orha

Facebook: @cassadyorha

LOVE POEM #87 – Roommate

Roommate

 

I felt your heart between my fingers

beating like a heavy drum

and forgave how broken you were

when I found you on that bench

 

bleeding in the black of night

after some boy had left you

covered in sticky red bruises

that you said you deserved.

——

 

Hello there!

 

Did you like this poem? Let me know by leaving a like and a comment!

Want to keep up-to-date on all my posts? Follow my blog!

Want to see more of my work? Check out my blog’s site!

Feel free to share any of my work!

 

You can follow me on social media! 🙂

Instagram: @cassadyblog

Twitter: @cassady_orha

Facebook: @cassadyorha

Stick Figures

There isn’t very much to them.

A circle, a vertical line, and

a two pairs of diagonals

for some added flavor.

 

If you really liked them, you might

draw in a couple dots for eyes,

a lightly curved “L” for a nose,

and a slow, slothful “U” for a smile.

 

You may even scratch out the head

and replace it with a square

to make the robotic servant

that you always dreamed about.

 

And if they ever tried to tease you

you could toss their treason

onto the pile in the trash can

where they couldn’t hurt you

like the rest.

——

 

Hello there!

 

Did you like this poem? Let me know by leaving a like and a comment!

Want to keep up-to-date on all my posts? Follow my blog!

Want to see more of my work? Check out my blog’s site!

Feel free to share any of my work!

 

You can follow me on social media! 🙂

Instagram: @cassadyblog

Twitter: @cassady_orha

Facebook: @cassadyorha

COFFEE SHOP

I really like coffee shops. Not really the coffee, but the smell of a French roast in the early morning, along with the crackle of the pastries being torn to bits by customers as they rush off to work. The coffee grounds rinsing down the drain, the boiling water, and the steaming milk all add a special chaos that is seen nowhere outside a kindergarten classroom, and the coffee shop.

I started going in the mornings for a barista I met named Stacy. Stacy wore her nametag over her left breast because she loved her job. She said that her day was made when she brought the hollow black eyes of tired workers life. My day was made at 7:30 am, two and a half hours after she put the first pot on, when the chime of the doorbells caused her to look up from the cup she was at. It was as though a rainbow had been caught in the sunlight, and the whole café reflected her color.

Of course, that was a decade ago. Now I just go in the morning, sip a cup of tea, and read the newspaper until the bus arrives. The driver, Mike, knows me by name, but he took to calling me James a few years back. He overheard a passenger say I looked like Daniel Craig, and that made him laugh so hard he had to get off the bus for a rest stop. We sat there for fifteen minutes, awkwardly waiting for his scraggly gray beard to make it’s way back through the doors.

Some people might be worried someone would run off with their bus, but not Mike. Everyone knows Mike’s bus. It’s the only one with paint so faded that the company’s label is gone. They asked Mike to replace it, but Mike’s been there too long. Nobody tells Mike what to do with his bus.

And then it’s time to get off the bus. Brief case in hand, I step through the doorway of the glass door of the office. And who is there to greet me? Stacy. You can’t let your sunshine stray too far over the horizon, can you? I picked up Stacy, and she quickly outgrew her role as secretary. She stepped over me, and then over the CEO, but she still comes around to giggle at my salt and pepper hair in the morning. Our matching rings don’t hurt either. That’s the new nine to five for me, and I can’t say it doesn’t feel right.

——

 

Hello there!

 

Did you like this story? Let me know by leaving a like and a comment!

Want to keep up-to-date on all my posts? Follow my blog!

Want to see more of my work? Check out my blog’s site!

Feel free to share any of my work!

 

You can follow me on social media! 🙂

Instagram: @cassadyblog

Twitter: @cassady_orha

Facebook: @cassadyorha

This is the poem i wrote in eight minutes.

This is the poem I wrote in eight minutes.

 

It probably didn’t hit home as hard as I had hoped.

The stanzas are haggard and heavy,

but the lines are as hollow

as a hanging tree’s moral code.

 

The poem itself was swallowed

in the cesspool of modern scholarship

where the student ponders bad textbooks

and the teachers teach to a code.

 

“It’s all about the A to Z,”

is what the fedora-wearer said to me,

standing at the head of class

by his chalkboard learning scheme.

 

A will get you in the academy

and Z will zip you away

with a ten-thousand dollar piece of paper

and a square cap to put on display.

 

It’s too bad those two letters

can’t sandwich my life together

like the pieces of wonder bread

I ate on the way to school.

——

 

Hello there!

 

Did you like this poem? Let me know by leaving a like and a comment!

Want to keep up-to-date on all my posts? Follow my blog!

Want to see more of my work? Check out my blog’s site!

Feel free to share any of my work!

 

You can follow me on social media! 🙂

Instagram: @cassadyblog

Twitter: @cassady_orha

Facebook: @cassadyorha

CRACKS (AND OTHER HAIKUS)

No Time

I trust that you know,

now will leave just as quickly

as never arrives.

 

Runaway Reader

I gripped the covers

like reins to a wild horse,

tearing through the words.

 

Bird Sounds

The rustling song

slipped between my dreaming eyes

to usher the morn.

 

Bed

She twined our fingers

like the lace of her bodice

that lay on the floor.

 

Cracks

Between the concrete

and the aging wooden walls

we hide our hubris.

——

Hello there!

Did you like these poems? Let me know by leaving a like and a comment!

Want to keep up-to-date on all my posts? Follow my blog!

Want to see more of my work? Check out my blog’s site!

Feel free to share any of my work!

 

You can follow me on social media! 🙂

Instagram: @cassadyblog

Twitter: @cassady_orha

Facebook: @cassadyorha

LAKESIDE (AND OTHER HAIKUS)

Dreamers

Up rose the sunlight

and with it the burdened arms

of bygone dreamers.

 

Sunset Shift

Not many saw him

sweeping under the benches

in the orange sunsets.

 

Domestication

If only the tears

could be managed with make up

as the bruises were.

 

Beach Walks

Bits of green sea glass

greet the sun as emeralds

gleaming in the sand.

 

Lakeside

The mush of brown mud

swallows my toes in the lake

as I amble in.

——

Hello there!

Did you like these poems? Let me know by leaving a like and a comment!

Want to keep up-to-date on all my posts? Follow my blog!

Want to see more of my work? Check out my blog’s site!

Feel free to share any of my work!

 

You can follow me on social media! 🙂

Instagram: @cassadyblog

Twitter: @cassady_orha

Facebook: @cassadyorha

A RICH LIFE

I have always had a strong imagination. When I was a child, there were nights where I would lie in bed, waiting for sleep to claim me, with more vivid fantasies about knights and magicians than the dreams that would follow. On the walk to school every morning, I would picture the world coming to an end in a new way, just to pass the time (and, perhaps, in hopes that I could somehow make the school explode).

Until one day I realized that I had to move on. The perfectly detailed gun battles, the stealth missions against giant aliens, the jumps from thousand foot buildings with a parachute—they all were too little for me. I started spending my time on schoolwork. Instead playing clips of unwritten movies in my head at night, I passed out with a pen in hand and a notebook under my head.

I got a degree in finance, and was set up with a steady job. The office walls had that dirty, faded white color that looks simultaneously unfinished and ancient. Things were pretty good. During my breaks, I got a brief moment to myself to breathe. I usually spent this time picturing what it would be like if I were outside, but company policy was that all breaks not spent on the can were to be spent in the break room. Then it was back to the tip-tap­ of the keyboard.

And that was twenty-five years gone. Nothing changed. The occasional pay raise kept me feeling humble about myself, while the company’s profits quintupled under a budget plan I had proposed. They even offered me full health insurance coverage—and I mean FULL. They even scheduled check ups for me, I was considered that important to the company. Plus, the big guys said they could write off any costs anyway.

Then the day came where the check up didn’t go so well. It was an overcast day, with the sun just barely peeking out from behind the clouds. The doctors’ office was colder than it was outdoors. I came in for a routine check up, which I had once a year, and the doctor found a strange clump in my chest. The tests came back a week later, and they told me it was breast cancer. It had progressed fast, too, and was likely to begin impacting my health seriously within the next two months.

The company gave me leave—something that came marking both my twenty-fifth anniversary with the company, and the tenth year since they monopolized the market (of course, in America they can’t call it that, but the results were the same). I went to Spain, to Germany, and a load of other countries to try to clear my head. The head of the Euro branch of affairs found me a top-notch place to stay at, and I began to burn through my hefty savings.

One night, I took a break from the parties and the escapes, and went to bed early. I was nostalgic about my life. I had called family, friends, and even past co-workers about my conditions. My childhood memories of imagining things before bed came back to me, and I closed my eyes to picture myself in a meadow. It started well, but soon I had lost myself in a story about beautiful queens and valorous knights.

And it struck me that I had never been valorous. There was no adventure to my life. Sure, I was frequenting the top of the top in society, but the blow was hardly fulfilling anymore. There were no roadside breakdowns. No struggles. No victories. Just fun. So much fun, that it didn’t feel special anymore.

The next day I took a walk through the street market. An old couple was deciding between two vegetables, while a child ran from his parents in ragged clothes. They all had such smiles on their faces. They had made it. No, they weren’t spraying champagne into crowds of cheering faces, or sleeping with gorgeous models, but they had the heart-wrenching expressions just the same.

I walked my way up through a cobblestone tower with a name I couldn’t pronounce and looked out over the world. It was a misty day, with just enough fog to coat the horizon, but not so much to cover the city. They didn’t have ledge guards here—if you fell, you fell. And as I stood there, I pictured the life I could have had. I could have ditched that class, went on that hike, or went to that dinner. Maybe then, I wouldn’t be standing where I was now—rich, famous, and utterly alone.

And I jumped.

——

 

Hello there!

 

Did you like this story? Let me know by leaving a like and a comment!

Want to keep up-to-date on all my posts? Follow my blog!

Want to see more of my work? Check out my blog’s site!

Feel free to share any of my work!

 

You can follow me on social media! 🙂

Instagram: @cassadyblog

Twitter: @cassady_orha

Facebook: @cassadyorha

LAKEBED (AND OTHER HAIKUS)

Lakebed

An empty lakebed

is the memory of life

cracking at the seams.

 

Messy Desk

Look at the piles

that I let build over time

like half formed towers.

 

Return Home

Dust lines the doorway

as hosts do at a party,

with cob web banners.

 

Speckles

The blank, white tiles

were mundane till the artists

speckled them with paint.

 

Good Night

Dear all seeing moon,

only you may know my life

when the sunshine leaves.

——

 

Hello there!

 

Did you like these poems? Let me know by leaving a like and a comment!

Want to keep up-to-date on all my posts? Follow my blog!

Want to see more of my work? Check out my blog’s site!

 

Follow me on social media! 🙂

Instagram: @cassadyblog

Twitter: @cassady_orha

Facebook: @cassadyorha