Old Oak Tree


Written for Daily Prompt: Circle

At the feet of the old oak tree, we danced round and round with abandon. Our circle was charged with reverence honoring our tree’s fidelity.

This mighty oak provided countless quiet shelter right there under its expanding arms. The old oak soaked all our utmost secrets which we related to him in this quiet solitude of its shadow.

Our old friend always rejoiced with the approaching laughter of excited little children. Children would caress its core as a dear child clings to a mother.

Today, a fierce storm passed through our field breaking our ancient oak in half.  It succumbed mercilessly falling noisily to the ground.

Once again we gathered our circle, hand in hand at the fallen feet of  our nature guru. We offered humble praise for his life.

With hope in our hearts new circles will be born, the old oak’s seeds will bring new tender shoots.  In the field children will discover standing little oaks.

The undying circle of nature will come to be through mother nature’s undenying rejuvenation.

The circle of life will be shared through kind spirit generations.

Hélène Vaillant© September 30, 2017





Under the Apple Tree by Aimo Katajainen
GINA Gallery of International Naive Art


There, in the shadow
of the old apple tree
you courted me,
claiming your ardent
love and fidelity;
though I resisted
hard and long your
advances, on this day
I surrendered to you.

Hélène Vaillant©

(and we lived happily ever after….hahahaha) just made up this one for today’s:

Daily Prompt : Resist

On The Border Of

Daily Prompt:  Border

Her eyes were manic.

She looked like a lunatic.

She bordered on the edge of the cliff,

Ready to jump, she held herself very stiff.

If anyone approached the circle that she had drawn in front of her, she threatened to lift off the edge and fly like a bird.

“What concoction had she been consuming all afternoon”?, asked the police to her husband.  The husband was completely lost. His wife had never taken drugs, alcohol, medication or anything of the sort.

A few minutes passed when he remembered his lab specimen in the refrigerator.  He had forgotten to retrieve it before leaving for work that morning. The specimen looked precisely the same as the healthy non-alcoholic drink he mixes for them on warm summer days when they sunbathe by the pool.

Just when he was about to say something to the police, he saw his wife stretching her arms like a bird and jumping off the cliff. She glided for a few seconds then quickly disappeared from his sight.

And so ends the tragic story of lab specimens left in home refrigerators…

A little humour for the Daily Prompt:  Border

My imagination is what it is today ….weird…

Do I dare put my name to this:

Hélène Vaillant ©Short Stories


Old Tree



Old Tree

Still standing in the old meadow by the stream
Seems like most of me has lost the breath
Though I still feel it coursing through my core
My arms are dropping, cracking
At the slightest breeze
Buds are drying up before blooming
The few that had made it to leaves
They are now shredding downward to earth.

The good old farmer that always revered me
Today is advancing with a sharp instrument
Which looks to be something aiming at me
Oh,the noise it makes stops my breath at the roots
On and on goes the sounds that painfully cut at my form.
I am becoming a stump of what I used to be
I cannot show a pretense, or facade
Since I am no more than a mere neat pile
All cut up and carried into the back of a vehicle.

Here I stand,
Alone, abandoned
My old self is now but a raw stump
My breath tries to resume its course
I must show strength and endurance
But too soon I cannot hold on anymore
Surrendering myself into the care of Mother Earth.

Hélène Vaillant ©Poetry



( daily prompt: unfinished)

How is one to know when we have grown apart?

When the bell tolls,

It no longer ends on a chime, but a long dull resonance.


Seated side by side,

Our furry friends on each our side

Sophie and Pooch cuddled close,

We shared our truths.


Awaiting your arrival was not my strongest trait.

Minutes and seconds were dire moments of trust.

Pooch would be the first to announce your arrival.

Sophie kept secured, her niche on the sofa.

If we bypassed the sofa for the cozy nook,

Sophie would jump first to steal the spot.


One day you left.

No words spoken.

You never came back

Leaving me to grieve

Unfinished words, a silent dread.


How is one to know when we have grown apart?

When one has grown beyond,

Is it in the eyes?

Is it in the heart, or the spirit?

You never came back.

Hélène Vaillant ©Poetry



Daily Prompt: Vice

Warning:  this is not the best of me….I just felt a bit naughty today….is it the moon you think?…hahaha.


“Ouch! you are hurting me.” shouted the young girl.
“Hold still!! You are making it worse by squinting.” was the swift reply.

“You are hurting me!”this time with a much higher pitch in her voice.

“If you don’t hold still, it is going to hurt you far more. Now, don’t move and let me do this”.

The girl became quiet and endured for what seemed forever and ever.

When the lady with the tweezers finally got the last eyebrow hair extracted and began applying soothing lotion, the girl exhaled with a big sigh of relief.

“Um.” answered the tweezer lady.

And so….it starts young nowadays, the beauty of a woman.





Daily Prompt: Miniature

What makes me smile?

What gives me visual and sensual pleasure?

Little things, little people, especially babies, humans and animals alike.
This miniature world of wonder and awe, the discovery of newness, playful childlike nature, rosy cheeks, bouncing steps, innocence radiating from their eyes, trusting fully.
Such is the miniature world preceding our grown up adult existence.

Yet, I have seen these same characteristics, those that live in the miniature world, demonstrated naturally with a fresh spontaneity through many adults. I marvel at their understanding of what life really is all about. Their sense of newness in every encountered moment.

Little children showing us by example, how to be, how to walk this path with lighter steps and dignity, they need us just as much as we need them.


Thank God For Little Children 
Poem by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper

Thank God for little children,
Bright flowers by earth’s wayside,
The dancing, joyous lifeboats
Upon life’s stormy tide.

Thank God for little children;
When our skies are cold and gray,
They come as sunshine to our hearts,
And charm our cares away.

I almost think the angels,
Who tend life’s garden fair,
Drop down the sweet wild blossoms
That bloom around us here.

It seems a breath of heaven
Round many a cradle lies,
And every little baby
Brings a message from the skies.

Dear mothers, guard these jewels.
As sacred offerings meet,
A wealth of household treasures
To lay at Jesus’ feet.

Frances Ellen Watkins Harper


It is in the Eyes


It is in the Eyes

Mirrors all around me
Hiding from the strong glare
There in the dark, a little corner to hide
Bring me courage; truly seeing in the eyes.

What I see can only be me
This scary tormenting enemy
Keeps me looking nonetheless
Knowing that what I see can be set free.

Living in my head is not the way to be
It does not sanely guide me
It trips me to stare and, to retreat
Where I think I am safe, away from this feat.

My thirst is endlessly compromised
Leading me to water, yet never satisfied
Hoping water will finally refresh me
Only to find, it is never enough.

When my head takes retreat
Finding myself in defeat
My heart rejoices at this opportunity
I can be carefree while in company.

There amongst the clatter and escapes
Life can be beautiful, especially safe
When one knows how to see
Without losing grace, allowing me to be.

Mirrors all around me,
I cannot hide from myself
Nor can I run from what I see
If I am finally going to truly be.

Hélène Vaillant ©Poetry