VSSPoem, Week 4

September 30th

A family gene

that jumped over her
#Charm
She couldn’t

Not with a filthy mouth

or dirty mind

Honesty in every word
She couldn’t

Not with a fearful heart

or dark soul

Her pain wishing to spill
Her family

#Charmed

Friends from foe

Neighbour

Stranger
But not her.

 

October 1st

My #identity is pasted on plastic cards

With a name

My height

My birth date

My address

But I am more

than a shitty picture

and basic details.

 

I have a voice

A face under my mask

 

Paper and Plastic

don’t define me.

 

October 2nd

#Trust is another thing

that rusts.

Breaks like a chain.

Nobody’s mistake.

 

October 3rd

This sword is sharp

Meant to cut

Render flesh

Into ribbons

Draw blood

With a jab

 

It’s thin

Like my #patience

Worn down

By quick words

And quicker stabs

 

Perhaps it’s best

I wield a wooden weapon

 

At least

Until I’ve proven

My #patience is stronger

My lips sealed

 

October 4th

Like a sun inside

The light fades

And #dims to darkness

Hides behind frowns

Forgets how

To even smile

She tries to rekindle

Reignite the flame

But the wick remains

Unburnt

The lighter flashes

To life yet drains away

And she remains

#dimmed

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…

Very Short Stories, Week 14

Another Monday is upon us and it’s dreary where I am! The sun is still hiding and my desk isn’t calling to me, but we’re here nonetheless.

 

I don’t have much to say about my past week. Grammarly picked a fight and seems to be winning though I ignore it telling me to get rid of my ‘u’s. I am combing back through the first 25 chapters I edited to correct comma use with Grammarly’s help.

It’s my first book and I’m probably still trying to find my voice, but I think I’m getting there! *fingers crossed*

Anyways, here are my very short stories from the past week! Hope you enjoy!

 

July 16th

Her reservoir is deep, filled to the brim with tears unshed, and words left unsaid. Every day she sits, pen in hand, and #delves into its ink. In scrolling shapes, she spills it unto the white page to lessen its load, but the day calls her forward.

And it fills again.

 

July 17th

#Reputation is everything,

they say.

From your hair

to your clothes,

you better look

crisp and clean.

A smudge on your face

could destroy you.

Keep shut that pretty mouth

for silence is your friend.

Forget opinions

or willpower.

Subservience to the norm,

Master

 

July 18th

Eyes glanced over the mutilated plants of her vegetable garden. Leaves were decorated in holes made by insects and weather. Long stalks & stems lay mangled on the dirt. Their produce, half-eaten, was left to rot and decay amongst the yellowing life.

#Unlikely to recover.

 

July 19th

One peek outside Vivian’s brick and mortar cage was all she could remember of freedom. Kilometres of space met forest, all #verdant shades, and guards patrolled every inch.

In the classroom, his voice shattered the idea of grass on her toes, “Vivian, are you listening?”

 

July 20th

She longed to #fly alongside the birds and forsake the Earth for clouds. A palace made of fluffiness and her crown jewelled with rain. She’d rule with kindness and love in her mind’s world.

The grass soft against her back but her mind soared with the winged creatures.

 

July 21st

The library #stacks were coated in dust, thick and displeasing. Rows of lines were traced by fingertips on book spines and footsteps marred the floor. She followed them, desperate for another human. A thud echoed in the distance and she raced towards it to find blue eyes.

 

July 22nd

#Elsewhere
I wish to be
Free from doubts
And failure

Elsewhere
I wish to be
With certain goals
Achieved

Elsewhere
I wish to be
In a new home
And energy

Elsewhere
I wish to be
At my desk
Instead

Elsewhere
I wish to be
In health
and serenity

Elsewhere
I wish to be

A Writer’s Prayer

I don’t know what to write.

Ringing fills my ears

And my voice is a faint whisper.

 

Words vanish as I reach for them

Thoughts die in vain

And all I want is to fill this page.

 

Light a candle, say a prayer

Maybe someone out there

Will send me something to say.

 

Sorry for this crappy poem

But this bug has made my body

Its vile home.

 

Robbed of health, I cannot write.

Here’s hoping tomorrow

This will be set right.

Finding, Removing, Replacing Words

It is a daunting task to be complete master over your work. Both its creator and editor and in some ways, its ultimate judge. We are our worst critics and this goes to whatever we produce.

The trick? Don’t feed that voice too much, because it will keep you frozen and you won’t move forward. It makes you think avoiding doing anything is the best choice and to follow the herd instead of yourself.

But tell the mother *&%$&* to shut up! Do what you need to do. At the end of the day, there is always that process of editing, erasing, replacing words, lines, colours. If it isn’t quite right, because YOU think so, you can fix that (or recruit someone to help if needs be).

It’s tedious, but I like finding, removing, and replacing words in my book. It adds, it changes, it evolves as a result of this process. The same way a painter, a sketcher, or a knitter build in layers, so too must a writer.

First, it starts with creation. Get it on a page, good or bad. It may feel like shit at points, but it is better to work with something than nothing. Kind of like trying to make a baked potato, but without heat. You get it on a page and then you apply heat to cook in the form of editing, revising, rereading (out loud to test flow). You get feedback and you use it grow your book, mold it into the final product.

And today that is what I have been doing (despite a late start and seemingly complete disregard for my self-created schedule). I am apply some more heat to my book by finding new words (creating new details, sentences, etc), and removing words that don’t work or do what I need them to do. The words I remove are sometimes replaced which I have a lot of fun with (just don’t try and brainstorm with me or I’ll lose the thread!).

I have only gotten two chapters done in this stage of cooking today, but I’m hoping to get five more done before I gotta make dinner and do laundry (the fun stuff, right?). I had to add some content, because of one of the changes and I enjoyed it.

Got my tunes going, my bottle of water in reach, and fingers not yet tired from scrolling/typing!

Hope today is full of productivity (if you want it to be)!

 

I don’t sit there waiting for that perfect, beautiful sentence, because I know I’m going to sit there forever. So, as I tell students -start out by tripping, why don’t you? Then get up and fall over again. Just as long as you go. ~ Kathryn Harrison

 

P.S. New song find of the day on Spotify for me:

Down by the Water by Amy Macdonald

Despite The Fear And Hate

{Below awaits my attempt at the Quatern style poem. Hope you enjoy!)

 

Stand tall despite the fear and hate

And drop their sharp blades from your hands

Pick up the pen, and write again

Fill the pages with scrolling lines

 

Work with the light of day and night

Stand tall despite the fear and hate

Quiet the doubts swirling inside

Break free the bars that cage your might

 

Your tale needs telling, use your voice

Others will listen, given the choice

Stand tall despite the fear and hate

Use it to fuel your writing craze

 

It is a daunting task you’ve set

One many will never have met

Success awaits the effort, and

Stand tall despite the fear and hate

Tired

I am tired.

Tired of carrying the house’s chores.

My husband’s constant need for backrubs.

I am tired .

Tired of figuring out dinner night after night.

My dogs’ inane need to whine every morning.

I am tired.

Tired of feeling worthless, hung out to dry.

My siblings’ hateful gaze when I speak.

I am tired.

Tired of feeling alone, pulling myself up.

My inner mind’s dark, dark voice.

I am tired.

Tired of sleeping in, depressed.

My dream’s constant hold on me.

I am tired.

Tired of carrying everyone’s problems alongside my own.

My need to please all those around me.

I am tired.

Tired of throwing myself to the side.

My desire to put everyone else before me.

I am tired.

Why doesn’t anyone see that?

Why doesn’t anyone help?

Why doesn’t anyone lend a kind word?