Of a Candle

Prompt from here: https://sammiscribbles.wordpress.com/2018/02/17/weekend-writing-prompt-42-revelation/


Appealing of the lightened glow

Before the shadows engulfing it,

Candle takes its cue of separation,

Defiant with the darkness of the world.

Energy is effused and then spent

For a reminder of starlight and sunlight.

Guided by laws that bar no one,

Her approach is of care from a distance.

Inside she is all hollow yet bright,

Jewels of atoms and particles unite

Kindled by fiber she remains alight.


© 2018 Valerie Hathaway


Your legacy is in your retreat

Your hope is in your burning hands

You bring warmth to the shivering

You cradle the wounded with kindness


Yet there is steel in your sound

There are flames in your appointed feet

You dance and sparks hit the eyes

Of the angered and disappointed


There is only light in you now

A supernova with clouds of gas and dust

A spirit in the making a blanket of stars

Your glow dims, and many shine for you


May we find your creative fire

Echoing in the vastness of life

An ember of graciousness and courage

A remnant of blazing starlight sun


© 2018 Valerie Hathaway


Things in the Air

Intersections in the air

Trivialized by planes and balloons

Leftover from birthday parties

And travel in fake cloth suits


Another sky cracks on the horizon

Watching clouds battle wild dreams

And lofty egos with lightning

Piercing, rumbling in the muscles


Turning words over and over

Farmers work the fields for pennies

Lives are traded and expelled

From the circles of the unimpressed


Another trail of furtive petroleum

Darts into the leaden atmosphere

Heavy by its own intention

We find gravity as it pulls us down


© 2018 Valerie Hathaway

Where Are We?

Where are we

When the hand holds out to shake a foreign hand?

Where are we

When our lips spread and teeth flash graciously?

Where are we

When a child’s tears water our shoulder, or our chest?

Where are we

When we cradle a fragile head as it expels its last breath?

Where are we

When the feral animal snaps a piece of food from our fingers?

Where are we?

Some say we are in Heaven,

Some say we are in Paradise.

If it was Heaven would these needy beings not exist?

If it was Paradise would there still be suffering?

I say it is more than that.

It is the Universe, and we are the celestial

Stars made manifest.

So welcome Home.


© 2018 Valerie Hathaway


Nature and Man

What wonder is there

In a brick, a tower, or a tree?

What do we espy

In a blade of grass, or a stone?

We all have our stories

In stained windows and pillars.

Our hearts have been twisted

In steel, concrete, and rust.

Walk to the forest floor

With needles and opened cones.

We need dappled sunlight,

Calm corners and waterfalls.

Where do our judgments end?

With hot sand and salty water.

Where do we begin?

With deep oceans and looming mountains.

Our faults no longer lie

With gasoline and paper plates.

They all end in the dirt

Of freshly dug holes and silence.


© 2018 Valerie Hathaway



The Grammar War

Words wage war with artillery

Of ellipses and exclamation points.

A barrage of text speak

And acronyms fire in return.

Colons and semi-colons

Parachute into the field,

Stitching broken phrases together.

Emoticons perforate and explode

In punctuational retaliation.

The weary word warriors

Build walls of paragraphs

And single line spacing,

Only to be barraged

With cannons of red ink.

Vowels and consonants laid to waste;

Pieces of expressions litter the page.

Is this sentence all there is?

Only stumps of question marks remain.


© 2017 Valerie Hathaway

A Goldfish Feeling

My mind is a cloudy fishbowl.

Emotions jump in and out

Like goldfish, gasping for air.


We break the lines into marks.

Show this, but not that.

You can only do so much.


Then you drop into the unknown;

A gooey, shaky, frightened mass

Breathing in an alien atmosphere.


Do you die, or do you return?

Benevolence scoops you–

And look, a clean new bowl!


You are comfortable in your bubble.

The landmarks are still there.

As you peruse your surroundings


You see teeth above you.

A long piece of bleached wood

And now is a place to hide.


Be happy, little goldfish

With moving and surviving

This horrific, yet constant world.


© 2018 Valerie Hathaway





Dig Deeper Within

Dig deeper within


Hide from the playground

Hide in the office

Hide in the house, in the bedroom

Hide in the dark, in the corner


Dig deeper within


Search through the lovers

Search through the bullies

Run through the bystanders

Flee away from it all


Dig deeper within


Open up your heart

Feel the blood in your veins

Touch the wrinkled skin

Stare honestly into the eyes


Dig deeper within


Until you find the water

Until you find mountain air

Until you breathe and release

Until you cry in complete awe


Until you come to the core

Dig deeper within


© 2018 Valerie Hathaway

Our Song is Heard in The Rain

Our song is heard in the rain.

It cleanses our bodies

Or adds weight to our clothes.

We splash in the puddles,

Either with joy or impatience.

Drops tremble to the ground,

In guidance with the winds.

We try to stay dry

In our sterile rooms inside,

Waiting for its watery secession.

But it pounds through our blood,

Adding birth to coffee,

Tea, drinks or just a container.

Molding its shape to the cup’s will.

It rumbles through the showerhead,

Making soapy marks in the washer.

It boils, it whistles, it pours out steam;

It silently bears presence as ice or frost.

We would perish without it.

Our song is heard in the rain.


© 2018 Valerie Hathaway

A Rainy Day Pondering

There’s rage in the rain,

There’s anger in the sun.

The snow falls in quiet malevolence,

The clouds are dark in indignity.

I search for the lessons,

But sometimes a rainy day

Is just a rainy day.

Or it be a different viewpoint:

It’s water stored for the summer,

It’s light for the trees to bud.

The white keeps the green dormant

As it fills the ground as nourishment.

Clouds move, and the air is freshened.

There is black and white and gray

In everything.

It depends on what view you choose.


@ 2018 Valerie Hathaway