VSSPoems, Week 3

September 21st

Everything decays

Rots away

To become #ruins

 

Glorified

As it dies

Living relics

 

Attractions

For the masses

Til its gone

 

The tragedy

And mystery

Of life

 

 

September 23rd

Tears wash the soul

Nourish the heart

Cleanse the dark

Like the #rain

We danced in

As children

Carefree

And naive

Life’s burdens

Yet on our shoulders

 

September 24th

I wish to #stitch

a stunning mask

to confound

and astonish

 

I wish to #stitch

a matching cloak

to keep secrets

and mystify

 

I wish to #stitch

a wonderful lie

to become my life

and satisfy

 

September 25th

Darkness was always there

Filling the air

in thick, rolling clouds.

The thunder was loud

after the flashes of lightning.

You would have thought it blinding

except it was familiar

even the shivers

it sent down your spine.

It was divine.

It was #Castlevania.

 

September 26th

My #luggage seems light

Laughable

I hide it away

Screaming internally

Can’t let them see

I’m vulnerable

Struggling

Gasping

Fighting my demons

 

What else is there to do?

My burdens are mine

Guilt is there

If I share

And so I lock them up

And battle myself.

 

September 27th

The waters still

Shimmer and shine

Beneath pale moon light

Her face is reflected

Ivory skin

Speckled by sunlight

Green eyes blossom

Like new buds

On a growing tree

Nature’s #mirror Is friendlier

Than a stranger’s gaze

She welcomes the image

Strong and powerful

Very Short Stories, Week 21

This past week has been tougher day by day. I feel stuck. I feel completely different. And the worst part? I have no idea how to change it.

I’m pushing through trying to stick to some routine and tackle things around the house, but I feel hollow about it all. My hope was writing more types of prompts would help, but it isn’t working so far.

Great segwey, eh? You’ll be seeing some #vsspoem posts once a week from now on and same with #BraveWrite. If I stick with it, who knows what might happen, right?

Anyways, here are my very short stories for the week without any further rambling.

 

September 3rd

Her #mysteries were caged in barbed wire. They surrounded her, welcomed her darkness. Whispered horrors and sordid images filled her every waking breath. And yet the Evil she held remained a secret. She wiped sweat from her brow and walked away from the newly dug hole.

 

September 4th

She chased the glowing #horizon

Its edge calling to her

She longed to free fall

into the abyss

Sink or swim

in a sea of words

 

Her fingers could craft

poems

short stories

novels

if given reign

 

And so she chased

the glowing #horizon

for a future it might hold

if she caught it

 

September 5th

Words of strange properties leapt from her lips as a soft whisper. Her magic danced in colourful swirls along the rocks she’d gathered. It caressed and curled about the stones like a lover. Before her gaze, they #crystallized, clear and crisp like an autumn day.

 

September 6th

The night put its arms around her, an old and welcome friend. Her radiant smile shone light upon the tides she taunted into play. In the black sky, she gossiped with the stars, twinkling by her side. And as the sun cast golden rays on the horizon, she waved hello to #daybreak.

 

September 7th

The #serendipity of it all, she determined, typing a response to a stranger’s message. And yet… he wasn’t a stranger. Her heart and soul knew he was meant for her like the sun and moon belonged to the sky. Eight years later, she still couldn’t pinpoint how she had known.

 

September 8th

#Comets blazed through the sky and diminished into nothing more than cosmic dust. From the comfort of her room, she chased their wandering trails with her eyes. They must live brilliant lives to be gone so quickly from existence, she mused. If only I could chart myself a course.

 

September 9th

The tree that grew in her backyard served as a reminder. #Souls have branches, roots. They reach, connect, support, and thrive with companionship. She couldn’t keep hers locked in a jar for fear of rejection or failure.

She had to open it. And she did. Her soul had wings now.

Three Parts

I was a child,
Reckless and wild.
Free to create,
Love or hate.
 
I am unknown,
A mystery of my soul.
A part of past,
A mold to be cast.
 
I will be…
Me?
Cracked, but Strong,
Will to carry on.
A writer with ink,
Who refuses to sink.
A wife with a dream,
A hope that gleams.
 
I mean, who knows?
I feed my fires,
Hold on to my wishes,
Cherish my desires.
 
But I don’t know
More than anyone else.
I’ll fight to that future image,
And I will see for myself.