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 ‘poetry’

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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Poetry

Rush ahead, pride unyielding,

into darkness unforgiving

stumbling , reeling

path unseen

unknown.

 

Walls rough, winding.

Wide. Narrow. Wide.

Collapsing. Confining.

 

Dust, debris, decay.

Hubris,

peels, strips,

falls away.

Fear overwhelming.

 

Deepest fear,

darkest light.

Flicker hope

burning bright.

Humbled.

 

Aids sole price:

Supplication.

 

So I’ve had this sitting in a notebook for a little while. It’s been rewritten a few times. I’m still feeling that it could be improved.  But I’ve gotten to the point where I’m just adding instead of improving.

In other news I’m starting a placement for Social Work.  My father’s response: It would be better if they were paying you.  I had to hold back a palm face right there. I’m marked on the placement. I get credits towards my degree AND work experience in my new career area.  So What if I’m living on benefits – having a full-time job guarantee when out the window with brain surgery.  I’ll be lucky if i can manage 6 hours a day 5 days a week for 18 weeks. Let alone take on a full-time job.

 

Look: Poetry!

Change

Dash through the tempest

Ride the hurricane

Life entwined with chaos

Order down the drain

 

Chancing Fate

Born to Prophecy.

Brushed by Fates.

Burdened, Blinkered,

Bridling Destiny.

Birthing chance.

Blood boiling.

Battle rage.

Fate and Chance

Flirtatious smirks.

Snatching, Clawing,

Stretching, snapping.

Shredding golden threads.

Freedom,

Choices,

Time.

Chance and Fate,

Turn a page.

Tussle? Tango?

Only they know.

 

 

I’m on school holidays!!!! Wooo!  As of the 25th I submitted my last assessment piece for summer ‘se’mester. On the 29th I start ‘se’mester 1 for 2016.  No real break and they really should give up and call them trimesters.  I haven’t posted anything creative this year, so this is me blowing of steam and killing a second bird with the same stone.  I wonder what these two little pieces of poetry same about my state of mind at them moment. 😀

Off to either write or too start scheduling releases of old news articles. Dunno which yet! 🙂

The white rose

Another trip into a morbid mind. But when I saw this photo prompt provided by Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers (original source of image is Pixibay.com) I couldn’t get past all the… red!

redgown

Graceful twirls caught the eye; leaping, pirouetting across the ice. Sweet fragrances further to further entice. Ruby leotard, coral blush, and a sweet conceit of tone to bring trophies home.

Upon her doorstep a scarlet Rose.

Sweet scent, finger prick.

Coppery taste of blood.

Unwary.

Taken into the dark.

Amongst Geraniums, Cardinals, in still repose.

Raven hair,

crimson lips,

sanguine streaks on pale…

lifeless…

skin…

Upon the glass the Dark Prince bestows

a single white Rose.

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. :/

A bit a poetry.

Riples meet; coverge.
Tides turn,
Seasons shift,
Dawn greets dusk.

Spider’s web of paths,
Trecherous,
Uncertain.

Of certainties
Change,
Need,
Pain,
And death
are but a few.

Precious commidies
Love,
Trust,
Courage,
Faith,
Perserverance,
And Happiness,
Must be take by the Hand.

Live now,
Yesterday’s etheral prescence whispers
Tomorrow may be a broken promise.

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.

Ordinary ties

ordinary

A short poem for Visdare.

One little elephant

Ran while his clan

Died.

Instinct sought safety,

New home,

And family ties.

Rare human kindness.

Years without fear.

In search of new means.

change the tools

Writing in a vacuum

I write fiction, yet constant procrastination causes contradiction.

It’s become a right addiction but friction causes dereliction.

No definable progress is stressful,

Never knowing if depiction is successful

Blogging cures the constrictive affliction that limits my diction.

spoongebob

Foe.

Procrastination.

Makes three hours out of one.

Progress hampered.

butterflys

Start again

The writer wrote. Wrote, wrote, wrote some more. Type; edit. A few changes. A few more. The novel got no closer to complete. No matter what was written, the prose seemed incomplete. Her judgement critical; no longer unbiased, bogged down by eternal reconstruction. No progress could be made.

With a kick in the pants, a decision was made. She would start smaller, and see where the results took her.

old dog

Blogging 101

Blogging for beginners

Logged enough practice

Of experience I have plenty

Good?

Good enough?

I still can learn

New tips and tricks

Gall to believe I’m better?

1 way to learn

0 – reasons not too.

1 way to find out.

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