dream

Future’s Fear

The future holds no certainties
Taunts with wild absurdities
Until there’s a sense of urgency
And it all feels like an emergency
 
I’m left frozen in the dark
Running after a crazy lark
Chasing a dream like its my mark
And I’m left to ask should I embark
 
On this unsure journey?
Will I prove worthy?
Or should this all concern me?
Or is this needless worry?
 
My heart races against the clock
Sweat beads like bullets from a glock
Has opportunity truly knocked?
Or am I reeling from failure’s shock?
[Image from Unspash. Photo taken by Sasha Freemind.)
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Very Short Stories, Week 24

I missed the weekend prompts for my posts this week so there a bit short. Hope you don’t mind!

 

September 24th

#Fire licked across the stacked logs, surrounded by placed brick. It grew until it crackled and sparked and its flames reached for the starry night sky. She sat with her husband on folding lawn chairs. No words passed between them as the heat warmed them.

 

September 25th

She wrapped the #sinew around the willow twigs that formed a circle. It required a soft touch and yet force was needed too. She continued until the web was formed, decorated with beads the colour of rainbows. As she kissed her son’s head that night, she hung the dream catcher

 

September 26th

Night #consumes the day and she readies herself. Dressed in black, she lifts herself onto the window sill. Its tracks bite into her palms and she drops when it’s time. The two-storey fall is quick and she lands with a thud, rolling for cover. She draws in a deep breath.

 

September 27th

 

Stars twinkle in distant #universes, lighting skies above alien life. Through telescopes, gazes meet but remain unaware. Life continues its circling dance. She dreams of unknown planets and longs to walk on foreign soil. Her imagination is a playground of planets.

 

September 28th

 

September 29th

 

September 30th

His bare feet were numb on the cold, wet road. The ragged clothes on his body were no shelter from the howling wind. There was no frown on this boy’s face. He wore a stubborn scowl like a shield and pressed forward. It was #inevitable in his mind that he’d find shelter.

Very Short Stories, Week 19

It’s been a tough week and I still feel lost and unsure. I know I should push forward and fight to normalize my routine again but… The weight of Jasper’s death still clings to me and the silence is a knife straight through my heart.

I hope by trying to tap into other things for the prompts, I might banish this sadness that comes in waves. Hopefully, the ache will lessen with a bit more time and I’ll be able to carry on.

Anyways, the vssof this week still deal with Jasper, but I tried to write about other things, too. I hope you enjoy them.

 

August 20th

My #haven is my pets. The soft touch of their fur on my hands and their attentive, soul piercing gaze as they listen to every word. I lost a piece of my haven last night. His barks that woke me with his demands. His warmth as he snuggled close at night. Gone. But not forever.

 

August 21st

Staring at the x-rays of her dog, she was #blindsided by the news.

We usually see this with cancer, the vet explained.

The rest of his words were lost on her and tears fell like silent rain down her cheeks. Her husband’s hand was rough yet warm as it rubbed her shoulder.

 

August 22nd

The #wilds of the world shrink and shrivel in the grasp of greedy humans. Trees fall, uprooted and cut. Lakes dry under an unforgiving sun. Grassy meadows become concrete beaches. Our touch turns the world into a cold, unforgiving landscape. Nature’s tears and cries unheard.

 

August 23rd

#Bright lights twinkled like rare gems above them. A sky full of treasure they’d never see or know. The soft colours danced upon the packed dirt and they followed it forward, hands clasped in each others. The world was still and silent as they reached the clear waters.

 

August 24th

The silence is neverending. An unbreakable entity consuming any whisper of noise and leaving a desperate void in its wake. She cries but the sounds of her sobs dissipate into a vacant air. Sadness fills her gaze like waters in a still lake. The ripples #shatter silence.

 

August 25th

Even when the #skyline hid behind trees, her bare feet carried her onward. Just beyond the horizon, she repeated, dragging her tired soul despite its cries. In the daylight, the sun battered her skin through ripped fabric. Her raspy breaths echoed in her ears as she collapsed.

 

August 26th

I #confess

my heart is broken

my mind is unguided

my body is hollowed.

I confess

my path forward is gone

my dream is muddled

my goals lost to time

I confess

I don’t know what to do

Take time to heal

or push right through.

I confess

my only solace is sleep

and it calls again.

Worlds and Realms

I dream of worlds

And dwell in realms

Of colours and magics

It leaves my thoughts manic.

 

I cast spells in letters

Catch minds with nets

Fashioned from phrases

Left on white page.

 

My fingers dance across keys

and tell tales of many veils

Pulled back and explored

More stories to adore.

 

My love is writing

And it strikes like lightning

Providing new sightings

That I hope are inviting.

Anxious Honesty

The voice in my head is telling me I’ve wasted two years on a dream that will never come true. I had a book idea and I ran with it. I didn’t fight hard enough for it though.

More and more, my husband seems to get mad that I’m not working on my book. That I’m not bringing in any money. That I’m just ‘lounging’ around the house.

It doesn’t matter that I clean the house top to bottom by myself. I weed the gardens and mow the lawn and whippersnip, by myself. I feed the cats and dogs day and night by myself. I do the laundry, by myself. I make the appointments for both of us. Keep a running list of things. Try to be the voice of reason more often than not. (I will admit he helps on occasion, but not near enough…)

I wish I was bringing in money. I wish I had fought harder for my book. It feels like the only choice is to abandon it entirely. It’s not what I want, but I always put everyone else ahead of me.

But then that leaves me with a blog and a twitter account that serve no real purpose anymore, right?

So, I’ve applied to part-time jobs in the mean time. I’ve started freelance transcribing again for Rev. I’ve created a Ko-Fi account in hopes of some additional help so that I can keep writing.

I want to keep writing, I really do, but this voice tells me there’s no point anymore. If I was really passionate about it, I’d be somewhere other than editing, right?

Anyways, that’s the end, (I think), of my self-pitying post. I had to say it before it ate me alive though I still think it might.

 

https://ko-fi.com/kemwriting is the link to donate to my creative path. I’m sure after a decent cry, I’ll be up to fighting again…

Traitor

I have betrayed myself

Again.

Forsaken my goals

Again.

Keep writing, my heart whispers

Onward, evermore.

Achieve the dream of your soul

Onward, evermore.

 

Yet doubt like vines grasp my mind

Crippling will.

Holds my fingers still on the keyboard

Crippling will.

 

The light comes out another day

I will wait.

Fights my darkness from all sides

I will wait.

Savagery’s Cost

Blood fed the barren ground

Bodies decorated it

Like discarded toys.

Swords pierced the Earth

Beside the crippled, lifeless corpses

And yet

There was a Beauty in this Darkness

In the Savagery of War.

Life fled this land

Once rife with the green blades of Grass

Replaced now by blades of Iron and Steel.

For what, they ask

The Glory of Battle, the Honour it gave.

No structures of stone or wood

Stood in sight of the horizon.

A vast Nothingness claimed these lives

And Nature would take its Victims.

Limbs bared to Bones, sinking in dirt.

Rust from fruitless rains would claim the soiled metal.

The Shadows of carrion birds’ wings filled the sky

Their caws shredded the Silence, deafening.

Beaks ripped at stripped Flesh

As the Sun set, its rays of Light frightened by the field.

It seems a Horrible Dream.

An Evil that Desecrates the Human Soul.

Wars are waged, the Cost ignored.

 

 

 

 

Writing Schedule: My Attempt

After some hard googling, looking at examples, and a firm talk to myself…. I think I have created a workable writing schedule for myself! It will probably adapt as I figure out what works best for me, but this is a good starting point.

Here is what it looks like:

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I have four hours of solid writing time, three hours reading, two hours exercise including rest and snack, and one hour TV watching. I’ve built in relax time too (which is usually TV watching, too, but can be doing stuff around the house).

Since we spent the weekend away with Andrew’s family, I didn’t start this Monday or even today. I am going to push myself to abandon my dream land and get a start on the day bright and early. It may seem like 4am is a very early time (it fricken is), but it will help my husband get to work earlier. That will help us both out.

Realistically, if I get bit by the writing bug and NEED to keep writing (known to happen), I will do so. If I wake up at 2:30am needing to work on my book (has happened, too) then I will do so. My writing and reading trump (almost) everything else and will be given priority.

However since I have been having issues incorporating both into my day to day life, this should force me into high gear on both. It will also give me things to write about for my blog since I plan on focusing on writing and reading on here, too. (Other topics may be touched upon now and then, but not weekly).

Wish me luck, followers!

Sleeping Reality

Sleep is a sweet treat

Filled with delicious dreams

Sinking deep into my mind.

I tape over those pesky seams

 

The ones dividing me

From reality.

They are fantastical paths

Winding stairways so free.

 

I want to walk them all

Every oddball scheme

Every horrid thought

See the information I glean

On me.

 

Dreams are mirrors

Absorbing our image

Distorting, contorting it

Like a puppet almost finished.

 

I snooze the alarm clock

Again, again, again

Dodge the waking hour

For the dreaming one’s my domain.

 

Awake at last, it feels

When eyelids close

And darkness bows.

 

 

August 2017

It was a big day
But in a little way.
The end of my two weeks
Which was less than bleak.
I left that job
Feeling more than just a glob.
Unsure of what lay ahead
Yet I was not filled with dread.
Instead I felt hope anew
My footsteps led me far and true.
I stumbled upon my purpose,
And it was time to get down to business.
 
I had had a dream,
Filled with danger and fun.
I told my husband, my mother,
And they were quite stunned.
It spun into an idea
A book written by me,
In which a girl named Vivian
Fought hard just to be free.
 
I am still on that adventure,
Editting, revising Vivian’s tale.
It consumed me through and through,
And I refuse to fail.