Friday Firsts: First Paragraph of IVA

Iva rose and dressed quickly. She drew back the heavy, paisley patterned curtains to let the morning light in. The sun, risen from its own slumber, won the battle and shone brightly through her eastern facing window. Iva smiled at the yellow circle, curtsied at its sight, bidding it good morning. Walking through the dust ridden beams spotlighting the wooden floor, she walked across the room to her rainboots – a gift from her parents for her seventh birthday.

This was a short story I started in 2021, but haven’t gotten back to. Rereading it, though, sparks a renewed interest.

Throwback Thursday: LUCIDITY

Lucidity is lost,

fading with memories of better times.

She is a fragment of who she was –

a vibrant girl she used to know,

stolen by unexpected grief.

Simple plans have vanished.

She blinks as nothing comes to mind,

but her uninvited reality of darkness.

©Raelyn Pracht 2020

SILENT SATURDAY

In silence, we wait. 

Pondering, hoping.

Waiting quietly, anxiously outside the tomb.

His bloody and broken body lay in rags.

We feel the weight –

weight of our sins upon Him,

We are the reason He came –

the reason He lay behind the stone 

on this day of darkness and grief.

In silence, we wait,

In hope, we trust.

A Good Friday Poem

On that cross,
My sins nailed through your hands and feet,
Pinning you down.
Unable to move, to speak.
The weight of my transgressions held you there-
Too much for you to overcome.
All of my guilt, fears, weaknesses, shame sat upon your crowned head-
Pushing in the thorns,
It was for my pain that you bled.

FICTITIOUS FRIDAY : A Little bit of Vivian

Below is a paragraph from the novel I am writing. I hope you enjoy it!

Vivian sat impatiently behind the wheel as her mom adjusted the bags of yarn in the back seat as if they were as fragile as glass. Vivian’s fingers tapped on the steering wheel with anxious energy. Anticipation surged within her from the sudden onset of creativity. She was drowning in conflicting emotions in the moment. She felt a freedom from the creativity, but at the same time, felt imprisoned by the constraints of her present situation.  She could feel her heart began to race and her chest began to hurt. She placed her right hand over her heart and her left hand on her stomach. She breathed in slow, deep breaths.

CHERRY BLOSSOMS (A Friday First)

Spring blooms quietly,

nearly unnoticed – until floral hues announce their presence.

Romance blossoms below the vanilla pink petals,

embracing itself in the faint scent of resurrection.

I am going to go back to trying “Friday Firsts” where I will put the first paragraph, stanza, line, or even chapter of what I am working on into this blog.

The above is the first stanza of a piece and, consequently, the only stanza of the piece I just started writing in honor of National Poetry Month.

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