Sequence: My Garden Overflow (Short Story)

Most avoid looking directly into the sun, but I embrace it. Laying on the plush grass making contact with the Beloved while the glare penetrate my every core and seeps into my minds eye. I am wide open to receive it’s code.

“Blessed sun take me where no one else can go, your warmth is unlike any other,” I said while my arms are out stretched, welcoming. “Possess me, Creator, I need to draw strength from your being.” I lay there, arms garnering the unseen forces that come to me, alone on this earth, hugged by only nature.

It came soft and caressed me, entering first from my arms, then the cavity of my chest which made me groan slightly. It was not painful, more so, it was as though I was being filled up, brought to life as though I was a tree, feeding. It flowed down and up within my limb stems and leaves. I lay sighing, short gasps, the oxygen escaping me. “This is love,” I responded.

This original short story, essay is written on the fly and copyrighted by Juana M. Gumbs. All photography was made/taken by Ms. Gumbs, all rights are reserved by her in February 2022 (C)

The Unsent Message To Niine – A Short Story

Benevolent One. My Niine, The Crown Upon My Head, and as if I wasn’t clear before, I would say it loudly to your beloved face if I could, as you are profound in your own creation and I yearn for it.

I miss your essence. Your reluctance to say and do sentimental things, listening to you speak about those elements and ideas that excites you and you are so passionate about all of it. I want to be there when life makes you livid and you need to vent and release, without input, just listening…the journey with you, has been an incredible one so far. 

I don’t expect anything from you in this immediate point in time. I just want you to know my thoughts and feelings and that I am very distraught for hurting yours. It doesn’t change how you feel about me in this current time.  So, Beloved, Benevolent One…i am patiently waiting…come home to me.

Many, many moons ago, a friend of mine turned to me and said, “love is…a funny and complicated animal.”

This original Essay/Short Story is written and copyrighted by Juana M. Gumbs. All rights are reserved by her in July 2021 (C)

Leaking, Pouring Down the Whole – Poetry

I have become the drip drip of ink

Grim, shiny

Pleasing only to things grasping in the noir rub rub smear

Becoming a former model of itself

To encounter the deep devoid of any wish or desire

Just a new hastening to mere darkness

And if this snake was a ring it only naws at it’s own tail and ass

Going about it’s daily and eternal task

These original poem (poetry) are written and copyrighted by Juana M. Gumbs. All rights are reserved by her in May 2021 (C)

Red Eyes, Dim Thoughts – Poetry

The bawling never subsides

The claim

Then the realization that absolutely nothing can be done

It

Lingers like the aroma of dead flowers scattered under a Magnolia tree

The essence of what was

Is distant

And I squint my eyes exceptionally hard to see the horizon beyond a hazy oasis

My mouth so arid

It is as though I draw breath through the sand in an emense heat

Choking, sobbing in my hands

While I gag

These original poem (poetry) are written and copyrighted by Juana M. Gumbs. All rights are reserved by her in May 2021 (C)

False Memory Is Everything – Poetry

Thought a man

That one day he would thrive

Formulate and populate

Then expand

Imagine it thoroughly

To the extent

That he will fly upon it

Caress notions with textures from it

Unlike any he has ever touched

Still

Unable to pick it like fruit from his whitered psyche to supply those deemed worthy

But by then

Life took its final stand

And he lost time and forgot he put it all away

Now the world will never catch a glimpse of it

Or have felt

Or have known of its existence

Or even inclined to provide it vigor

At this point.

This original poem (poetry) is written and copyrighted by Juana M. Gumbs. All rights are reserved by her in May 2021 (C)

Dream: Caves to Alternate Realities

Most of this dream I can not recollect but what I can remember, I will write as much as I can so that it makes sense. We all understand that most dreams may not make sense or may make sense while you are in the dream state.

I found myself in a barren cave made of dark brown-red clay. I seem to have been wandering, lonely for some time it seems. There seemed to have been a mission I was on, but as time passed, I forgot. Along the way throughout the cave system, entrance off the main path. Curiosity took me to enter the path, a dark hole in the wall. On the other side was a lighted enclave which was also made of the same dark brown-red clay, except there was a forest. There was a flourish of weeping willow trees and vines with purple-pink flowers all over them, and there was a breeze. I don’t know where it came from and turned abruptly to exit from where I came. Back into the cave system.

The cave was not cramped in most paths but spacious enough for me to walk upright without my head crazing against the roof. In some portions of the cave, the roof was easily twenty feet high. As I walked further, I found that the cave had wildlife that roamed the length of it, mammoths, to be precise. They were huge and shaggy with long hairs that also matched the color of the cave walls. They could stand still and you would not notice them, but when they move, you could hear, see and feel their presence. Why mammoths? Not sure why my psyche pulled an extinct creature into my dreams but the mind has a way of showing you things and manifesting symbolism in their place.

That’s all I can remember…my subconscious will reveal itself in another dream state, soon.

This original blog post was written and copyrighted by Juana M. Gumbs. All rights are reserved by her in January 2021 (C)

Blog: Is This Working?

I was given a writing prompt to describe eating fruit in four paragraphs, with the absence of revealing the fruit by name or color. I did create four paragraphs for this challenge but, I felt no end in sight. Here is the first paragraph:

“My mouth watered profusely as I stared and waited on the store clerk to peel, cut, and cube the sugary honey-hued flesh. The lush ripen husk bore an overflow of sticky juices that ran down the blade that sliced it. The scene caused a ruckus in my abdomen, pangs for hunger called out of my being. I looked around then consciously brought my hand over my stomach—as though commanding it to simmer.”

I’ve been doing writing challenges for the entire month of January, to improve my writing skills or using writing as a way to explore my talent. Writing prompts have been very helpful and I’m trying to diversify, writing in different genres and styles in order to find a niche.

This week I’ll do journaling instead of fiction. I’m very free spirited and the rigors of writing in a certain context is waring me out. It’s only been two weeks, I’m fatigued. Let me try this writing challenge from a different perspective…

Unfinished Business at Hollow Manor – A Short Story

A few weeks ago my mother was lowered into her final resting place of the EverGreen Memorial Park. My three siblings and I surrounded the hollowed burial place to mourn her passing. As I stood there with glass tears in my eyes, my mind filled with the bittersweet memories that still held images of my mother—her presence, her voice, her hugs, kisses, her love.

After the somber ceremony we went to my mother’s home. She hadn’t moved since we all lived together decades ago. Reluctantly, we walked into the house. None of us wanted to be there, but mom left some loose ends and we couldn’t decide who would be the one to tie them, so we all decided to work together. The house looked as if it was vacant for months—no dishes in the sink, brown house plants, stack of newspapers sitting on the coffee table. None of us were ever really good with keep up with her, so mom’s illness came as a total surprise for us. In some semblance of respect for her, we pooled money together to hire home care nurses to watch her. Some of us—two of us, came to visit on a monthly bases. Her passing was still a surprise, however. We separated and each took a room to complete. The emotions flowed heavily as we sorted and collected forgotten memories of our lives—joys, disappointments, successes and regrets.

By the time we were done going through all the things that once mattered, the feeling of a life long lived seemed to flow about. It was her home. It was our home. Even though she’s gone, It will always feel like our home. We all lived most of our lives there. Some of us grew up, left, returned and left again. Our very beings were forged within those walls. As we gathered in the black SUV, still shedding our tears, our hearts were full. But grief took us in waves. I sat in the passenger seat, watching our home shrink away on the horizon and I smiled through the grief. I smiled as the happiness followed us from behind.

Credit to Jae Davis, as Editor of this story.

This original blog post was written and copyrighted by Juana M. Gumbs. All rights are reserved by her in January 2021 (C)

Blog: Opinions and Some Facts…Pandemic Woes

These are just some of my observations from media to actual occurrences while I am out and about in my local area and travels.

The ordinances placed upon us to stand six feet apart while wearing face masks, is a hit and miss with the human species as we contend with this recent pandemic. What is it about us that allows us to not only disobey orders but justify rebelling against them. I have heard all the reasons in the world as to why someone doesn’t wear a mask or not accessing mindfulness in order to stand at a distance away from strangers in the grocery lines and other public venues.

Immediately after the pandemic began affecting the current populace, Many of us felt like we were extras in a real life science fiction movie. A small group of folks felt like sooner rather than later we would find out that the infected would die and turn into zombies, just as our favorite zombie tv program. Not even the media could tell us how the disease was contracted. Paranoia set in, people in lines at the store was harassed and yelled at if they sneezed or coughed.

I have heard or witnessed people create reasonings to not wear masks that pertain to different ideals and idiosyncrasies. For instance, I saw a video from an individual that earnestly explained that God will protect them from the pandemic, as they avoid buildings with requirements to wear masks. Nothing is wrong with religion or belief, but I wonder if they feel the same way now, whereas, the anniversary of recorded cases is upon us with numbers still elevated across the America. Other people would rationalize not wearing masks because they can’t breathe well while wearing masks. Another group of individuals may wear masks below their nose because they feel that masks are uncomfortable. But then there are those that have medical respiratory issues and have had to use other means to breathe or contracted respiratory infections, such as bronchitis.

There are some that just refuse to wear mask because the threat is not real to them. In their world, the pandemic happens to other people, so they saunter into the local venues without masks until someone stops them to remind them that they cannot enter unless they wear face coverings. Then, you disturb their world. Perhaps that individual without facial coverings may retaliate, maybe they will just leave without tension. Some come back, mask in hand, begrudgingly fixing that mask upon their face while walking back to the building’s entrance.

We never knew life would come to this. Our fears and dreams culminating into a horror-fest. Such is life now, after the pandemic.

This original blog post was written and copyrighted by Juana M. Gumbs. All rights are reserved by her in January 2021 (C)

Poem: Dark and Light

Time has a night and day

In between, I have given all that I can

Especially offered my heart

Which has been eaten as though it was an apple

Masticated, swallowed and digested

Never let that heart fall into the hands

Of someone hungry for theft

But without care for that which they hoard

Love being taken for granted

Left out in the cold

Is the coldest darkest night

This original blog post was written and copyrighted by Juana M. Gumbs. All rights are reserved by her in January 2021 (C)