Past Fears


My journey has taken me to many places around the world…I can close my eyes and remember when I walked the manicured grounds of Windsor Castle where daffodils were in full bloom; I breathed in the fresh air of the rugged Swiss Alps; I swam in the bluest of blues of the Mediterranean Sea off the shores of Crete; and I traveled the countryside of Romania past colorful gypsy villages.

However, my journeys have been alone. No one to walk beside me. No one with whom I can look back on these times as being shared memories. I can close my eyes and see the room that was never a part of my journey. Where darkness was brightened by candles. Where a white gown was shimmering across the dance floor, a glow matched only by the radiance on a bride’s face.

who will remind me
of the journeys in my life ~
I walk alone

P. Wanken

Shared at 1Sojournal for NaPoWriMo – Day 12.

Silent Lyrics Unseen



Today of all days
I long for the skill of an artist

to paint the color of her eyes
peering at me, from afar;
to capture her silhouette with a brush.

Today of all days
I long for the skill of a poet

to reveal on the exterior
the rich silence from the inside,
penning alliteration and verse.

Today of all days
I long for the skill of a musician

to record a lilting tune
to accompany her sensuous saunter,
her tresses trailing in the breeze.

Today of all days
I long to remember her forever.

P. Wanken


Inspired by The Sunday Whirl’s Prompt #74: artist, sensuous, lilting, rich, exterior, silent, silhouette, color, saunter, lyric, peering, alliteration, and tresses. Also posted for Day 73 at “100 Days of Summer” — click here to go to their Facebook page.

The Lost Room


my favorite t-shirt
(the gray one, that got softer
every time I washed it),
the pen my advisor gave me
when I graduated college,
my earring (just the one,
I still have the other)

where did they go?

is there a room somewhere
where all lost things gather?
can I go there and look
for all my lost things?

will I find my lucky rabbit’s foot?
what about opportunities?
and love lost?
will my dad be there?

will I find myself?

P. Wanken

Remembering…and Forgetting

photo by: Justin Jackson (prompt from Flashy Fiction)


Damn flag.

I mean no disrespect to the colors of this nation. But…it’s another holiday. Another day to remember. And that’s the last thing I want to do. I made my way into town–to this saloon–to forget.

To forget how empty my life is without them. To forget that a son should never leave this dustbowl before his father. To forget that a mother’s heart can be so broken that she, too, is gone.

I just want to forget.

“I’ll have another—make it a double.”

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Written for the photo prompt at Flashy Fiction.