Forging ahead with fictional endeavours: ~ Write a life on a page and hurry not to its grave; abhor not the coming age, for eternal is the next page. ~ Read what you will, I hope you will enjoy reading as much as I do writing.

Posts tagged ‘grief’

Family

butterflyFor the one’s passed on

And the one’s still here

May the tears we shed

Illustrate the bond we shared

Lasting long beyond our

Years.

 

Art is a very honest medium. Good poetry, painting ect. They all reflect emotion, whether its something we feel while creating it or something we feel because of how we’ve created it.  Most have a story behind them, though we are not always aware of them. The story behind this one is simple – the first anniversary of my cousin’s passing has just gone by.  This one is not just for him but for the family who miss him.

On a completely unrelated note, this is my 201st post on this blog. Wow.

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A touch of grace

A touch of grace

Spiced with tales

Steered by time

Travails crooked trails

Wonder in discovery

Bind everyday

Driven, excited.

Playing in the fray.

Life’s shuffle brings

Pain and pleasure,

Crossroads and fog

To hide fairy treasure

Grace is fleeting

Days gather as dust

No time is wasted.

To higher powers we entrust.
Now free of burden

The adventure without measure

Beckons the explorer

To the true treasure.

Finally some writing to post. Bit of poetry but it involved thought! Lol The neurofatigue that comes with brain injury has been beaten back, this time anyway. This one is actually tied to recent events in my life; as can probably be seen. I have been thinking a lot about my cousin, whom we sadly lost last month. I think it needs work. :/

Of Mortal Men

Image

This piece was written for Flash Friday, other submissions, posting guidelines and rules can be found here.

Desert survival depended on the gods. Elsme’s modest shrine was centrefold of a picturesque Oasis; as such she was blessed with routine worshippers. Over time devoted followers built a temple in her honour. Elsme was pleased. When a ragged boy appeared before her, she took him as her own and the people praised her virtues.

Her child grew, strong and devoted. Her people grew wealthy and proud. The blessings of Elsme became legendary and soon tribes began to covet the Her Oasis. Once such tribe descended as an oncoming horde; weathered and honed by the desert. Before long her precious child was called to war; assailing her fears with a promise to return. Disaster upon her, the goddess wept; cracking the heavens to flood the blood churned sands. Elsme sat on her throne, and waited. The hourglass filled the temple. The once beautiful Oasis dried up yet still she waited. One day he would return.

Not Pinocchio: Friday Fictioneers

workshop

Another short story for Friday Fictioneers.  This one’s a little sad…

The workshop once had been busy. Now it was bereft of all but a sole individual, a weighted-down man with no care for his appearance. He carved, hands moving roboticly. He stopped only to drink from a stained cup or half-eaten tasteless noodles. The framed photo of a child stared at him from the desk; he slapped it face down into the newspaper clippings. Sombre silence accompanied the wooden creation taking form on his bench. In that silence the doll of a child was born. The man looked at the empty doll he created, and shed his first tears.

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