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BraveWrite, Week 3

September 19th

She fears its gentle hands have found her again. It whispers in her ear all the things she shouldn’t to hear. The truth long gone, her heart long since battered, she welcomes the cold. It hollows her out. Vacant of emotion. It’s too late when she names it. #Depression

 

September 20th

In the state of #jejune, we were all consumed by our fables. We were a unique center whose storms were unlike any other. The Gods aimed for us, small and insignificant though we KNEW different. But then our eyes opened. We wore others’ shoes and heeded our empathy.

 

September 21st

Their trunks, china cabinet, and every nook and cranny served as a #cache for their precious items. The house seemed willing to burst at the seams with their collections. It was a glorified storage unit filled with the sentimental. She worried it would go up in flames

 

September 22nd

The world is full of the #esoteric. It haunts the realms of math and science. It teases everyone. But it belongs to the artists most of all. The ones who draw, paint, compose and write for themselves, hoping some will understand. They bare their hearts for acceptance.

 

September 23rd

Wanna know what I think? she asked all of a sudden.

What? His eyebrows raised above a curious gaze.

I think life is a marinade in which we all #marinate. It’s experiences, people, and choices are all the spices we added, She smiled and nudged him, Don’t you think?

 

September 24th

The clock chimed #twelve in the middle of the night and summoned the witch from her workings. Her feet bounced down the stairs, jostling the book she held in her arms.

Ah, there it is, she said while flipping through the aged pages. Clearing her throat, she began to recite.

 

September 25th

The abyss was #tempting, as always. It called to her in seductive whispers. It threaded its fingers into hers, holding her hand, pulling. Her shoulders drooped in defeat and matched the dark bags under her eyes. The image in the mirror wasn’t her so why continue?

VSSPoem, Week 1

Once again, it is a day later than I planned, but it’s for a good reason. I’ve actually been engaged in social activities with family members for once. This is very rare for me as I am that kind of loner who sits at home in front of the computer.

However, maybe this all is a sign of things to change. Maybe I will have a bit more of an adventure from the safe walls of my home. Who knows?

anyways, this is one of those new prompts I started doing over the past little bit. I hope you enjoy these very short poems!

 

September 5th

I long to #push past

these obstacles made of doubt

that sabotage me

 

September 6th

Her #shadow cast

by the evenin’ sun

was the giant

she wished

to be.

Its footsteps larger

than the nightmares

that came to call

in the night’s

dark hours.

She tried to remind

herself of that

tucked under

her covers

but

her fears grew

until they consumed her

once more.

 

September 7th

On swift wings

#Nightfall approached

Its pitch black feathers

fell in swarming shadows

and chased the light

in a playful game

 

A girl sighed

head rested on hand

in her windowsill

At peace in the dark

she moved to her desk

and lifted her pen

to write

 

September 8th

In the cold room

he relived memories

picking them apart

for the #omens

they contained

Will-o-wisps

seemed prevalent

dancing on the edge

of his life

but never touching it

 

He could recall

deaths in vivid detail

of friends and family

until he was alone

 

In the cold room

 

September 9th

Emotion is danger

too much

too little

tips a scale

both divine

and cruel

It can fill

the cup

to the brim

or evaporate

both host

and vessel

empty

 

Let go the

anger

hate

rage

jealousy

envy

they say

it causes damage

to your mind

wears it thin

with time

 

Teach me how then

 

September 10th

Waters #follow

the bends

curves

hills

of a land

marred

scarred

defaced

by human hands

 

Soon Fires #follow

the dried

leaves

trees

rooted in ground

unloved

forgotten

forsaken

by human hands

 

Then Deaths #follow

the lack of

food

water

on a barren Earth.

 

September 11th

Good and Bad

Happens in threes

The #Attraction

Forms the link

Like dominoes

 

Positive attracts positive

Negative attracts negative

 

It’s a cycle

And it will last

Longer

Than

Time

 

I say it’s a game

But then

I’m stuck

In the cycle of Threes

 

September 12th

Walk into the

#Shallows

Walk into the

Hollows

 

of your own

Heart and Soul

Take a gander

Take a stroll

The mucks and mires

are there to console.

 

Search through

Cracks

Follow the

Tracks

 

You’ve made them

Inspired them

Colluded with them

 

Walk into the

#Shallows

 

September 13th

Leaves spin and twirl

Like dreidels in the wind

Teased and taunted

By nature’s whim

 

Crisp flakes of snow

Kiss #green grass

Burying it in warmth

As time begins to pass

 

Seasons dance as long lost friends

Sharing the same tune

Until the world’s end

BraveWrite, Week 1

Happy rainy Thursday! This was meant to go up yesterday but time got away from me.

This is one of the prompts I have started to do on Twitter and I plan for it to up on Wednesdays. Make it a… Hump Day sort of thing.

Just like the very short stories, the prompt word has the ‘#’ in front of it. Feel free to take those words and write something around them, inspired by them, or etc!

 

Hope you enjoy!

 

September 5th

Her nature was #bellicose in every sense of the word. Small issues became fixed grudges that called for violence in hopes of resolution.

But she tamped down the need for confrontation. You catch flies with honey, not vinegar, she reminded herself and forced a smile.

 

September 6th

His bare feet carried him further from the house he had called home. The cries, shattered dishes, and poorly patched walls were behind him. His tears blurred his vision but the bite of gravel told him to stop.

Sat under the oak tree, his mother’s voice screamed, #skedaddle, again

 

September 7th

She twittered about her cabin, attuned to its energies, and grabbed various vials. With measuring spoons and cups, she poured ingredients into the cast iron cauldron and stirred.

Singing the spell, her #melange bubbled and simmered the rainbow of colors. It was done

 

September 8th

She would serve as the #conduit tonight and the fear it sent through her curled her toes. Shivers ran down her spine and her heart beat furiously inside her chest. She was suffocating within her own skin and helpless against their wishes.

She heard them call her.

 

September 9th

His mind created insults as sharp as blade to slay himself. The words were grenades, blasting him #asunder. The onslaught was endless, the booms echoing in an eternity of repetition. His skin tingled to life as his heart wished to crumble. He continued on in his shell.

 

September 10th

#Prisms were transparent, relaying rainbows across the world. Their presence a blessing, a joy, uplifting to those with one in their life.She was scarred, cracked. She absorbed the dark like a sponge and kept it to herself. Basked in it. No #prism to shine light.

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.

Lust

Slithers through the heart strung veins,
Claiming every mortal fiber.
Alight in its wicked reins,
Its urge turning us to fire.
 
Fingers dance on naked flesh.
Bodies writhe, thrust, and plead.
Digging deep, its calls distressed.
Give in and fulfill its burning need.
 
Fall into the blissful state,
Desire brings it bound prey.
Grind, arch into your mate.
Find ecstasy in the risque.
 
Lust, I’m told, it is a sin,
And only the selfish win.

Love Potion

Poetry soothes my soul with its directness and metaphors. It is a friendly creature, but changes it form, consistency, just like water. I have not written a poem in some time, it feels, so here is one today. (I forgot to include Saturday and Sunday plans in my writing schedule. Oops!)

 

There is no special
way, to find your forever.
It happens when it’s
 
Time. No more, no less.
Be yourself, be patient, and
the one will find you.
 
Throw out lines, baited,
if you must, but don’t forget
chasing love scares it.
 
It is timid and
slow to eat from the hand
it is offered, friend.
Something that you feel will find its own form. ~ Jack Kerouac