I am behind (hahaha, so what else is new?), but I will catch up!!!!
She Fell Through the Cracks
I lost myself in happiness until it died. Upon awakening, perspective altered. My soul ached. Where am I? What happened to the young woman I was?
Time transported me into a dire desert of aged pain.
My choice wavers between fighting and submerging.
My claws extend.
even when words evade
Let them rise from you
your heart, your soul, your brain
Take risks, pour out despair
Care to create your truth
for there’s no one else who can
Write about what matters to you
for your passion will show
Write about what you know
and what you don’t
Play in the land of make-believe
Create worlds you wish to visit
make them vividly real on paper.
But mostly dear writer,
Listen to criticism, take what’s true
but never let it own you
so you never write again.
The same for rejections.
Don’t reject yourself.
But never ever quit.
Signed, Someone Just Like You
Catching up isn’t so difficult when you’re only one day behind! 🙂 Today’s prompt was: denial. Not the river. (Okay, you’ve heard that one.)
I Tried to Write of Denial
I tried to write of denial but my guts roiled, pitching as if I were a female passenger on a storm-visited ship steered by a gleeful misogynist. And I read the news today, oh, boy, and the roil continued, my jaw aching from clenched teeth.
Denial, take the fair maidens to the gala but don’t let them dance. Let them watch. Let their tempers rise until their frustration makes them march to a far different drummer from one you’ve ever envisaged.
And then you watch, watch them rise, all the fair maidens will no longer be fair and I wouldn’t dare cross them.
Updated: because I evidently can’t count. 😀
Just one day to catch up on OctPoWriMo. Not too bad. Since I gave you a posting about cannibal cobras yesterday, I will continue with alliteration today, but with a poem about a not strange creature.
The Watcher Continue reading
lost in the past, some halcyon, sepia-tinged fantasy days, cherub cheeked, chuckling, she felt lovable
now her life’s vintage, alone every move, love’s fleeting, mind dance of memories
his love cavorts away
I’ve done some introspection about my writing, wondering if I’m just putting enough effort in to get by and not enough to be good. Do you ever feel that way? But what does it take to be good? You possess all of the tools, but what else is there? I think I am trying to sort through that in my poem. Thanks for reading.
Image borrowed from the OctPoWriMo 2018 website
My love affair with words Continue reading
It’s the October Poetry Writing Month! Let’s see how many poems I can manage to write this month! (There was a little sarcasm in that line, but if you didn’t notice, don’t worry. 🙂 )
Living in Virginia, I try to keep my feeder up for the northern batch of hummers migrating to the Caribbean (lucky them) or wherever it is they winter. As tiny as they are, it’s amazing to realize that they don’t fly in a flock but make the migration entirely on their own, flying low during the day to see flowers or feeders and then resting overnight. Bon voyage until next year, my tiny feathered friends!
The Golden Years
I fell asleep– Continue reading
Before I present tonight’s contribution to the dVerse prompt, I just want to state that this poem is fiction. I know a lot of poets write from their own lives, but as a fiction writer who desires to be a poet, a lot of my poetry involving people is made up. I don’t think the emotions are or the experiences, but they aren’t mine. Thank you. 🙂
Also, I half read the instruction so I wrote the poem, went back and read the instructions again, because lately my brain is a sieve, and I probably could have done a better job with the prompt. 😦