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 ‘Poems’

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. :/

Tribute to insomnia

Stays up all night

though exhaustion makes

every fiber

phase in and out.

Have to control

and

negate

insomnia to sleep

everynight.

My sleeping pattern is right out of whack; it has been for a while now.  It’s never a good sign. 🙂

Inspiration mechanics

fishyA fish

A deep sea mission
A leviathan
A sapient species born of water
A coral sea expedition
A reef exploration
A thriller with piranhas

But sometimes
A fish is a fish.

It’s been a quiet few weeks from me, I know.  Usually it’s 5-8 posts a week based on various prompts I’ve seen but I’ve felt somewhat uninspired lately.  I took that feeling a produced a poem.  Where there’s a will there’s a way.  I think it’s time to cut back on postage so I don’t burn myself out this way.

Directionally challenged

rattleI had fun with this one, I can’t lie.  It’s fiction with a musical interlude.  Sing the short verse to the tune of postman pat. It’s a riot!  The photo prompts and story started have been borrowed from Monday’s finish the story. If you’d like to join head on over.

Directionally Challenged

“Diamond Jack had his hideout next to the Rattle Snake River.”

Diamond Jack, Diamond Jack

Diamond Jack and his grey and black hack.

Early in the evening, just as day is leaving

He rustles all the cattle in his truck.

Diamond Jack, Diamond Jack

Diamond Jack and his grey and black hack.

All the owls are screeching

And the night is leaching

Jack feels he’s a very wealthy man

Everybody knows Sheriff Colt’s villain,

all the farmers cheer as Colt dogs the fleeing man

But Colt can never be sure,

Where the cattle are going (lowing)

Perhaps (whip crack)

off to foreign shores.

Miss Colt placed her chalk down. “Diamond Jack was a notorious cattle rustler, and his feats have become part of local folk lore. Can anyone tell me why Sheriff Colt failed to find his hideout?”

Tentatively a mousy girl put her hand. “Don’t you know, miss? Your grandpa got lost!” Miss Colt chuckled; the family secret was safe for another year.

Caged Empathy

dragonAfter nearly 2000 words of non-creative writing I finally managed to get the creativity center of my brain working again.  All that writing was not wasted! I now have an Author’s page published.  I wrote a post on character development. Now I’ve combined prompts from Red Lettering and Kristy Simpson’s Saturday Six to create a poem. All in all it’s been a productive day.  Though, as usual I’m not certain about the quality of the poem, I never am with poetry.

“What does a blind person see?”

I have worked with the Royal National Institute for the Blind in the past. I am very aware of just how difficult their day to day lives are. They rely on hearing, tastes, touch and smell to get by.  However, our language is very visual.  This makes it very difficult to communicate the fashion in which the blind ‘see’. Still I’ve made an attempt. 🙂

Caged Empathy

The sharp teeth,

the massive maw,

each and every taloned claw,

the razor wings,

the muscular limbs

smoke, fire and animal whims.

Fierceness of appearance lost

on one who could not see.

Fearless was he who could not foresee

his ignorance would free the dragon.

Pungent scents in the air

more sulphur than a dragons lair

sweet rot of poisoned flesh

smells of blood, dung and floral mesh

Cold triangular scales

warped, scarred,

close to entrails.

Jagged flesh

torn, slick feels fresh.

Some deep gouges

Some rubbed

by cold, rings.

The blind can not see,

but sensations felt,

and keening heard

gave rise to empathy

Quick fingers worked cold metal

keen tactile sense felt every groove

the blind man kindness could prove fatal

as he worked the abused beast free.

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