yet another pointless blog…

A recurring dream when she was young - tripping and falling down the stairs at home, then swoop and fly with invisible wings. Up, up and away!

Even now, the mention of wings bring on a feeling of freedom.
The thrill of discovery.
The wonder of new horizons.
The fun of exploring.

Conversely, wings also brings feelings of nostalgia and hope.
Reunion with family.
Greeting old friends.
Rediscovering home.

What more can we ask for, really, than to have wings to bring us to our goals; and the same wings to take us back home when we’re weary of travels.
————

eve (and i swear its 100 words exactly!)

A little late perhaps, to talk about the shootings.

Lives had been wasted, hearts broken, families torn -
but hope lives through

remarkable, how resilient the human race can be.
but it doesnt, really, change the fact that bad things happen.

Bad things happen.

Good things do, too.

I guess, perhaps, that grief and sorrow and recriminations - and forgiveness - are essential steps in recovery.

Recover, the rest of us will.

The victims will be remembered.

***************
Torn

Between the innocence of childhood .. and the responsibility of an adult
Between hope, trust.. and knowing fairy tale endings are impossible

Nudging the boundaries of independence, it was not a surety anymore that growing up was welcome.

Dreams of freedom - realities of self discipline
Dreams of living without supervision - realities of commitments and duties

Sometimes, it seemed better just to release everything into the hands of others,
But a part resists, insisting that coping was not a problem

With friends and family … perhaps, perhaps, she would soar.
On wings of freedom, grounded by roots of responsibility

Explanation:
The challenge is to write exactly 100 words, no more no less, on a chosen theme.

here goes …..

Procrastination

She knew it was bad. Not when homework was piling up ten feet high, and tests were coming up. Not when competitions were just around the corner.

But she could not resist just ten more minutes.

Ten more minutes of rest, of half-awakened slumber. Or ten more minutes of blogging, surfing, and chatting.

And inevitably, ten minutes turned into twenty, an hour, a day. “Its part of student’s life” – her excuse.

Yet, she knew that it was going to catch up with her – soon – probably last minute scribbling homework minutes before class.

She couldn’t change even if she wanted to.

————

yeah, will be posting more of these - tidbits - when i cant think of anything to write. just for fun.