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Fugitive nights.
Sweet silence and deafening darkness.
Sacred spaces.


Silly me. The golden orange that sits in the bowl is not an orange at all but a blazing orb of light that calls to me. It says, "Come and taste the lightness of my center." I say, "OK, but only if I can have an orange too."


Lines and shadows,
Moon circles and stars.
Planetary madness in the sky.
Dark night. Silent night.
Heavenly holodeck.


The kiss of you silences
my words of love.
The breath of you spills
down my trembling body

Held to the scent of you
found in your deep shadows
I followed the curves of you
with two fingers.

The ascent in you gives rise
to me and out of the shadows
the contour of me is you.

Desire shivers the heat of
us. Our tempo greets the
need of us.

We spill ourselves into each
other. I inhale all of you.


The black marble
Echoes in the darkness
Like fugitive nights
Lines and shadows
The golden orange
Sweetly ripening
Nourishing hope
Of a new day
Of lines and shadows
And fugitive nights
And echoes in darkness
From black marbles


The golden orange of the setting sun cast long narrow shadows on the pavement. Grotesque grey images waiting to be trod upon by the passersby as though they were treading on the weakness of their own souls. No matter how brightly the sun shone, the shadows lingered, haunting the streets, creeping ever so slowly as they grew larger over the landscape of forgotten dreams.
Then as the shadows merged engulfing the city in darkness, the only thing remaining was the dull echo of sad footsteps on the black marble paths, that too familiar desperate sound of soles as they make their way through the fugitive night.


I stood before the orange tree revelling at the beauty of nature. Each orange it's own living entity growing from the source of one tree. I pause and take a deep breath before moving forward on my daily walk and give thanks for the pletitude of this tree forever fruiting golden oranges.

jill badonsky

If you tear along the dotted line,
a shadow follows you home,
peels your oranges,
organizes your marbles (all black)
and answers the echoes of darkness.

But only if you include a check for $19.95
and a self addressed envelope.
Not available in any store.

Maribeth Doerr

The black marble was hidden amongst the lines and shadows of the waning day. Where could it be? She dropped the golden orange on the mosaic tile floor hoping it would follow the same path as the marble but all it did was plop and mock her. She needed a better plan for these fugitive nights but childhood games beckoned. The marble, that damned black marble, was her talisman against these echos in the darkness.


What child doesn't fear the lines and shadows of nightfall?
Or wish for the golden orange sunrise to make a fugitive of the black marble night?
Or hear the echoes in the darkness?


The black marble rolls
chased by a tuxedo cat
dog barks, marble's gone


Suppressing his outrage, Ferris stood and raised the black marble pinched between his thumb and forefinger, held up high for all to see. For the third time, the vote came back; twelve white and one black. The assembly needed unanimous decision and time was running out.

"Gentlemen, how many fugitive nights must we endure, gathered in secret only to reach an impasse? Each day the enemy advances, their scouts and spies are already among us. We must act as one, to be devided is to fail."

Ferris sat back down, the lines and shadows of his face shifting in the golden orange glow of an approaching dawn, revealing how tired he was. He mopped his face with his hands and swept back a tangled mane of his white hair and looked up, eyes glinting hard. He stared at these men gathered in the echoes of darkness to search for any sign of weakness.

These men were his friends, neighbours and business associates and he had known them all his life. As children they played in the streets and fought in the alleys together. They got drunk at weddings and birthdays as family and wept at funerals as brothers. He suspected a Judas among them and wondered which of them he could no longer trust. Each man met his gaze with granite resolve. He would have to wear them down some more he reckoned, before anyone cracked under pressure.

"All right then, let's try it again. Cast your votes" Ferris said shoving forth the bean pot.

jill badonsky

Wow! Who IS that masked man?

Liz Gloor

Every family has a black marble that rolls along its generational ridges and rests in its emotional clefts. Ping! Goes the marble as it shoots out of its holding place, ready to travel the lines drawn in the sand and dance with the shadows of sunny times.

There goes the marble, ricocheting off echoes in the darkness, chasing the tear-stained minutes and vodka-soaked olives of fugitive nights.

The black marble is driven by an inexplainable hunger, fed only by the golden orange, the universal sweetness that connects us.


Shadows in the Darkness

The golden orange glow of light coaxes out the shadows,
Where all things are visible,
Where even shadows long to be.
Shadows in the darkness,
Insubstantial, not even there,
Less than transparent,
Less than nothing.
Even shadows need light to exist.

In the deeper darkness of the soul,
The yearning and seduction of grim despondency.
Enticing and luring futility.
Shadows in the darkness are only imagined,
Creations of the mind.
Curtains closed,
Mind closed,
Heart closed,
Soul closed
Against the light.

Once toes reach the line drawn in the sand
The shadow has already crossed over
Allowing in a dark, dreary thought,
A step away thoughts are
Teeth grinding, shoulder hunching, stomach churning.

Shadows in the darkness,
Ethereal, insubstantial, invisible,
Tempting and thrilling.
Hollow echoes in the darkness.
Empty promises.
Eternally seduced by empty hope,
Unbearably, coming up empty handed,
Unable to grasp the hopelessly elusive
Shadows in the darkness.

Dark shadows promise comfort, love, familiarity,
A faithful, friendly puppy,
Who grows into a fearful Cerberus with three dreadful heads
And sharp, drool covered fangs,
Ready to rip the soul to pieces and devour the pulsing heart,
Raw and bloody.
Man’s best friend.

The golden orange glow of light,
Sizzles pasty, pale skin,
Blinds dilated eyes.
Better to withdraw, to be caged and safe,
But not free.
Stifled from flying and discovering potential,
Barred and cramped
In the darkness
With shadows for company.


This one sort of stumped me. :/

Let's run through your lines and shadows
or if, in this fugitive night,
I've stained your skin
giving you the fix you begged for,
I'll back into the corner
and listen to your medicated monologue
as it echoes in the darkness,
each word a further poison,
cruel and unforgiving and loved
like bourbon
and the way it shines under streetlights
in swaying, aching hands,
the golden orange of it
poetic against the black backdrop
of footsteps walking way
I hope your words,
thick with more than theatrics,
serve you as much as you serve them
and keep you locked into this freedom
to which you dedicate
the slow-burn of the heart-thick paper
of my scripture
and the steady sound
of the rolling of the black marble
that is your mystery,
so solid, inscrutable, and yours
that it has lost its addict
for lack of inspiration
and replaced her with
footsteps, walking away,
in time with the endless
sound of the rolling black marble,
discovering that it is no longer
a mystery for mystery
is laced with light



Orpheus trained his black marble eyes on the barrier,
searching for the portal.
“I will pass through,” he thought, “I'll find her.”

Distant echoes in the darkness were his only guide.
The echoes of Eurydice's smile,
her voice as she declared, “Je t'aime!”
her dancing in the golden orange dress
he'd brought her on her birthday,

He would summon the magic of his music,
the music that made her dance and children laugh,
the music that lured the sun
from fugitive underworld nights
back up to morning's sky.

Yes, Orpheus would journey through Hades
And sing Eurydice home.

©2010 Osha

Caitlin Kelley

As I sat staring into the blackness of the room, faint whispers echoed the rhythm of the lines and shadows. I tried squinting to see if what I was seeing was really so, but that did no good. The lines were the lines and the shadows the shadows they cast even in-spite of the chamber's obscurity. Slow motion movement moving through the syrupy dark air was haunting at least, and at best the timber of nothingness eroded at my eardrums so that all I could hear was my heart beat. That beat is frightening. It reminds me of how alone I am in this darkness that amplifies my senses, exposes my lines and shadows and shows me what I really don't know.


Fugitive Nights with Echoes in the Darkness

Sounds keep me awake
Husband snores
Cat scratching in litter box
Neighbor’s dog bark
Wind Rain
Scrape of the tree limbs against the window
Car door closes
Engine rumbles to life
Sleep still eludes
The black marble of night rolls away
The golden orange sun lights
The lines and shadows of my reality

Linda F. Hawkins

She sat on the dock staring up into the night sky scattered with starlight, wondering where her life was going. For so many years she had followed the men in her life always supporting their dreams and plans, never making room for her own. She wanted more than mediocrity. She had such big ideas and plans as a young woman. How did she let the time slip away? She wondered would there be time enough left to reach the goals she had set in her youth. And as she did, she thought she heard someone calling her name but it was only the echoes of the darkness in the cool night air.


The darkness came from the echoes
shadows in a straight line
we spoke like broken lamps
our words in tiny glimmers
our pasts unplugged and frayed.

That night remains marbled
the gold of cold worries
it shouldnt be but never was
the taste of buried circles
the sound of hollow love.

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