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)

Agony, My Friend In The Dark – A Collection of Haiku Poems

Warning: if misery is a current mood, do not read any further.

1. Agony, my friend

In the dark corner, surmise

My impending doom

2. Misfortune mature

In an Amalgamation

Evoking anguish

3. Great cloud of twilight

Which creeps in subtle states from

Dawn to dusk, untouched

4. Bloodline curse bestowed

Upon the fated bastard

Begat of brute loins

5. Deep the jaws of grief

That devours contentment,

To shit out despair

6. Divine fortune ebbed

As chance flees this dastardly

Game of existence

7. Vast tree, forsaken

The branch siphoned of majic

‘Til none prevail

8. Life manufactures

Anguish with every angle

No matter the trend

9. Nightmares manifests

From much dismay and peril

Dwindling all our hope

10. Suckle my pain out

From this broken place, derived

From all this sadness

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

Sunsets Left As A Reminder – A Collection of Haiku Poems

1. Sunset on the rim

Of a horizon sit still

Wavering above

2. Sun that sits abides

Sphere eternal in essence

vitality lodge

3. Amber Jewel glow

Provides warm delicate touch

Bronzing everything

4. Illuminate being

Beams glimmer through trees despite

Diminishing glow

5. Copper source divine

Burnt orange embers sublime

Receding timeline

6. Majestic crown glow

Third eye projecting passions

The universe bless

7. Burning arrow rays

Depicts immortality

Reigning nirvana

8. Drift celestial

As we Gravitate towards

The guiding sunbeats

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

Destination Allure — An Erotica (Short Story)

At this height, the balcony is slightly concealed from the public gaze. I purposely asked for the top floor, to look over the city and beyond. And also, to become a witness to this Cuban pink-orange sunset. The atmosphere was a little humid during the summer months, so I removed my clothing, took a cool shower. Then, I threw on an emerald green satin robe while my dark copper tone figure was still damp and dewy. My dark brown hair was dripping wet, with kinky, coil ringlets going down my neck, back, and breasts.

At first, The soothing West Indian breeze made me close my eyes as I stood up against the balcony. I inhaled the air and I was filled with the awakening of all my senses. The smell of Latin foods and spices, the light chatter from passerby’s below me, and the touch of the stacked stones that made up the balcony conjured something seductive about this scenery. At the moment, I was at a loss of words as to what it was that was guiding me–but it made my hands move sensually. They made a trail starting from my face, down to my neck, and cupping my buxom bosoms before I softly pressed my nipples with my fingers. They became erect and it made my honey pot throb. I found the chair closest to the glass sliding doors of the balcony and sat. With my mouth slightly agape, I took in an intense breath. I dared to touch my central part, under my robe, and between my lean and curvy thighs. My right hand and fingers found their way to that incited area and my eyes slid half-mast, as I am aroused.

A gust of wind caressed my robe and nudges my breasts delicately. The robe’s fibers grazing the nipple, as my right breast became exposed to the elements. I whined, at first and tried to cover my curvaceous bust, but an assertive force revealed my physique undoing the thin sash of my wrap. At this point, I should be alarmed but I was so impassioned that I pressed my fingers against my bud and massaged it even further. Elevating my breathing, in swells and falls as I came close to climax. This made me thrust my hips up, my buttocks tightened and raised from the seat, as I fervently peaked in satiated ecstasy.

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

TOUCH HUNGRY: CHAPTER THREE – SHORT STORY

CLICK HERE FOR CHAPTER ONE

CLICK HERE FOR CHAPTER TWO

At the end of the work day, Frankia came home to relax, but first, the plants need to be tended to, watered and touched. Plant care created such a sense of tranquility and oxygen production within her studio apartment. During her encounters as a plant mama, she would feel her mood lighten up while the connection and appreciation of nature heightens. Touching all the plants reminded her of how precious life is, daily.

As she observed each plant she realized something. The Sliver Leaf blades were taller, it was not a drastic change but subtle.All the plants seemed to have shrunk…perhaps. She wasn’t sure now, that in one night one plant grew or the others became smaller. Her instincts told her to measure the mysterious flora that she purchased and see if her suspicions were correct. Immediately, she picked up a sheet of white paper, a pencil and measuring tape to record the data. The tallest leaf blade was 16.4 inches long.

Then suddenly, her fingers grazed the Sliver Leaf and she was paralyzed, frozen in her retreat. Everything within her was still, her heartbeat escalated. She thought, “what is happening?” She could not tell how long she was standing perpetually in place. It felt as though she was under a spell, which made her as a stone statue. The light from the window, declined into dusk as she stood. After what seemed like an eternity, she could feel her body slowly relieved of this hold.

When her body was, once again, fully in her own control, a sense of panic filled her chest. Confusion flooded her thoughts: Was it the plant that caused this reaction? How could a plant do this? No, no I may have to go see a doctor, I may be sick. She thought. Denial, disbelief and rationalizing what happened during this incident made her slow her movements and gently lower herself to sit on her couch. She was exhausted but decided to move towards the bed within her studio space to lay down. Surprisingly, she was able to drift to sleep as soon as her head laid on her pillow. Deep slumber took her and she did not realize that this was part of the enchantment.

TO BE CONTINUED…

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

Blog – How I Plan on Saving Myself #2: Failure and Picking Yourself Up Again

“Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.” -Shakespeare’s Macbeth

Macbeth is my favorite Shakespearean play and we know what end came to the character, though he had goals and with his goals came failure and ruin…but with goals most of us do not prepare for failure. Most of us, our goals don’t end in ruin but yet we do not plan for those obstacles that may impede our path to accomplishing success. We visualize what must be done and by the end of day one, we are ready to either quit and/or exit promptly. Have you encountered this before?

So, I fell off last week with my first “how to save myself challenge” on meditation. Yes, I felt like Macbeth in that soliloquy, acknowledging my failure but I am working to recover this week. Getting back into the discipline of meditation is not quite as easy as it was over 8 years ago when I practiced diligently. At that time, meditation was also a part of my practice along with my spirituality. I have lost my path again even with that (looking into the vast nebula which is made of me).

Moving forward and getting back on track towards that goal is often put off for another day. Then you try again and feel empowered that the next day you have accomplished what you set out to do with laser focus. A week has gone by and you haven’t skipped a day of your dedicated purpose. Your pace is as steady as a heartbeat, not erratic or slowed.

At first, with your goal set, you then decide attainment and timeframe. Such examples are saving for three months for a new car or reduce that belly fat to a sexy midriff for summertime or build-a-business using these successful tips and steps to financial freedom. In any case, no one leaves room for the fumble, the failure or the agony of defeat. Nobody realizes that they can fall and get back up again, tomorrow. And it is alright. Trust me when I say it is and don’t stop getting up after it all.

These are my original thoughts…life lessons and fumbles. I’ll being posting on my journey. Please subscribe for original content and leave a comment if you like!

12/7/2020 #Untitled Poem

Here comes night

I, tortured

Fighting sleep again

Which becomes

Too familiar

To the demon, Death

And falling, falling

Memories lost to a trickling end

But alive outside the reaches

Of the outer realms beyond me

Lost sense of self

Obliterated by the varied roles

In dynamic technicolor

Steadily played like

Keys on a Casio.

Everything is melodic until…

Every key harmonizing

Crescendoing into tones of doom

Who am I this time?

Time the illusionist

With it comes lessons learned

Titled the best trickster

The foe and if grasped right

The fiend that swallows

All semblance of your sanity

SHORT STORY: POUR MY HEART

This was their first valentine’s together and Laurie was careful in choosing every item with precise detail. “Everything in love,” she repeated to herself as she went about purchasing balloons, cupcakes, chocolates and even a jar to put sweet messages to honor him. When she arrived home, Laurie was so ecstatic while putting all the items together and carefully writing a letter to him so that he knows why she invented the “Pour My Heart” jar.

Before he left for work that morning, she quickly slipped into his vehicle to create the display of items. In the passenger seat of the car she put the cupcakes, gift bag with chocolates and all five of the helium balloons. The balloons were an assortment of stars, hearts and one balloon that said “You are Special”. He always let her know as long as they were together that he was not into celebrating holidays, but she wants him to always know that he is loved. One more thing to make the display complete, the “Pour My Heart” jar! She forgot it in the house!

Her love is in the shower when she races into the bedroom and into their walk-in closet to retrieve the jar. As she slipped out the room while he was in the bathroom and she closed the door quietly behind her. Finally, she got to the car and laid the jar on the seat, in front of the cupcakes. Laurie stood back to admire the display on his passenger seat. Then, there was the ringing of a phone somewhere within the car, nearby. She was stunned because her boyfriend’s phone is always on his nightstand near his side of the bed whenever he is in the house. Where was the ringing coming from? She looked around the front seat as well as the passenger seat of the car and could not find a phone. The ringing stopped momentarily, but then started again frantically. She looked in the back seat, then stopped again to listen carefully as to the location where the ringing possibly came from. Laurie checked the compartment between the front seats, nothing. Then she looked in the glove compartment and heard the ringing intensify. There was papers and other objects in there, even a gun. She had not known about a gun that he owned, though suspicious, she did not touch it. While digging around in the compartment she found a pregnancy test and dropped it instantly…when realizing what it was. The phone started to ring again, and this time she saw it. It was a flip phone, black and it flashed furiously as it rang. It felt like five minutes or more before she picked it up, then put it to her ear to listen.

The person on the other line spoke first. It was a woman’s sultry voice that whispered from the phone.

“Greg, I’m so glad I got you. Happy Valentine’s, baby!”

FROM THE AUTHOR: Just practicing my creative writing. Please use the comments section to give your thoughts, criticisms on this short story. I write on different genres and haven’t found my niche, yet. Thank you for reading!

This original blog post was written and copyrighted by Juana M. Gumbs. All rights are reserved by her. (c) 2020

SHORT STORY: SOMETHING ANCIENT

FROM THE AUTHOR: This is a true story, one of my own haunting experience. Practicing my creative writing skills. I have been writing for almost as long as I have been alive, and since I first learned to write a proper paragraph in elementary school. This I create today, comes from my reality but an alternate reality for some. Thank you for reading!

“Come, put on your nightgown. You should never be naked when you sleep.” Mammy whispered while she dressed me and tucked me under my favorite blanket. I never slept without my favorite blanket or pillow. Without my shield and dagger, which those items represented to me as such, I could not fight of the visitors.

“God don’t like nudity,” My mother whispered again, “It should be shame that is felt when you gaze upon your own body, stay covered.” She gently tucked me under the blanket and patted my tummy. “Let us say the lord’s prayer and then Psalm 23.” We both recited the lord’s prayer, chanting it in unison, my voice a pitch higher than her own. While we chanted to the Christian God, I was also saying another prayer in my mind to that same God. Please God, don’t make me be touched and talked to by anything while the night rose. Please keep me safe from harm. I squeezed my eyes tight until tears welled up in the corners of my little child’s eyes, but mammy had not seen the tears. I hid all my horrors, all by myself without anyone to help me, but God.

“Alright, when two or more are gathered, God hears our prayer.” Mammy believed that whole heartedly. I tried to believe it too, my childlike understanding still wished for good and fairytale like adventures, but the night rose to some things that were more…sinister. My mother got up from my bedside, approached my room door. Opened and closed the door behind her and I focused as much as I could on her footsteps leaving me behind, walkine down the hall to her own bedroom. I sighed, very loudly. Not because I was relieved or secure, but because I had to fight again.

Sleep came to creep up on me before I can brace myself for anything else. My mind was set on the task that will surely come, but my body was tired from all the games and playing I did all day. The night was different. Why must I be afraid of the night. What I have learned of night has made me afaid of it. Terrified, really. The window brought light in my room, a steady illumination. It should have been comforting, unfortunately, it was not. As sleep took me and I dreamt away, A lowly black mass began to collect itself near the wall beside my bed. Slowly accumulating, and as it did so the sound that came from this mass was of flesh tearing. Pushing itself forward from whereever it emerged, It began to form a head of the carcus of a bull and it wore the dark sludge that was it’s body as though it was a dress. The darkness of its sludge was darker than the darkest corner in the room, where light could not reach. This entity bore no human attributes, nothing about the thing was of this earth or reality. Mammy would call it a Jumbie. In caribbean culture a Jumbie is a monster or mischieveous spirit. It did not come from a dead person like ghosts. It is believed that jumbies can harm you.

While the Jumbie came to visit for a while, I slept undisturbed. After this horn adorned mass completed its materialization in this plane, it watched me as I slept. Though it had no eyes in that bull skull, it concentrated with intensity, on my small body under my shield, my blanket. To my horror, it was still there when I finally opened my eyes at the dead of night to look upon it. I was startled by this being, but have come accustomed to strange entities visiting me during the night. At first, I could not take my eyes off of it…this bull skull, which with its dark mass below it, seemed like it was floating on its own. In my life, at that time, I have never seen anything that I could describe was like it. I was so shaken with bewilderment, I threw my blanket over my head hoping that it would deter this thing from coming towards me. Perhaps it would leave, because my blanket shield would keep it at bay and it would vanish back to wherever it came. Out aloud, I chanted my secret prayer, over and over again. God would come protect me, that was the idea. How much more protection would I need to be free from this curse!

It still haunts me today. I am still here to tell the story.

This original blog post was written and copyrighted by Juana M. Gumbs. All rights are reserved by her. (c) 2020

POEM: Black Hearts Depart

Longing

Alluring in its desired quality

Though insanity runs it

Claiming its purity

to devour, squeeze all wholesomeness

As though it was a tattered rag

When all semblance of hope is lost

Black heart emerges

Disturbing, pausing to give weight to

As it begins to corrupt all beauty

Rendering it naked

Then proceed to whiter

Emaciate

Break

Defeated

Disclaimer: This poem just came from within my depths. All photography and original art for this post was created or captured by Hetheru Mer Djehuty. Thank you so much for your support. Please feel free to like, comment, criticize, make suggestions or say “hi”.

This is an original poem dreamed up, written and copyrighted by Juana M. Gumbs. All rights are reserved by her.