Experimenting With Creative Writing
Being in lockdown stops your journey through life but your mind continues to wander. Emotions spiral, dreams become so vivid, and perceptions of reality are altered significantly.
I intend to document my thoughts and feelings during this process, through the medium of creative writing.
Birds called to each other across the treetops, echoing through the woodland. Little Bonnie sat below, eating a summer pudding with a plastic fork.
As she inspected her next mouthful, a redcurrant dropped down her front, leaving a scarlet trail down her new summer dress.
“Why am I allowed to eat these berries?” Bonnie asked.
“Pardon?” her mother replied, while she was trying to fix the lid back on the picnic basket.
“You always say to never eat berries!”
“Never eat berries which you have found!”
“What’s the difference? Someone must have found these berries!”
“Well, some berries are not good for you…” her mother trailed off.
“But daddy says that risks are good!”
“Your father is a- oh, just look at your dress!”
Bonnie saw the state of her dress and was about to cry, when her mother saw an opportunity.
“It was a risk to give you berries without a bib!” she chuckled.
“So this was your fault?” Bonnie said, as she traced the stain with her fingertips.
Image credit: Pixabay.com
In response to Creative Talents Unleased: Inspiration Call Week 22- Word Prompt Wednesday found here
We are parched of hope.
Two tulips in spring.
Lost in a field of poppies,
So wild, and unforgiving.
I falter, I wither,
In emotional turmoil.
I pine for your company,
Though anchored to the soil.
Where’s my refuge, my nursery?
I’m a solitary flower,
Come and quench my thirst,
With all the love I can devour.
I seek hope by the water,
Clear as a looking glass,
It reflects the damage of our parting.
When will this menace pass?
Oh, won’t you come and find me?
My strength, you can restore.
Let your touch console me.
You are still worth waiting for.
In response to the Paint Chip Poetry Prompt #21 found here
Open your arms wide,
Lock me in tight. So close, I
Can hear your heart beat.
In response to Ronovan Writes Weekly Haiku Poetry Prompt Challenge #307 found here
Oh, the beautiful parakeet,
With your soft, ruffled feathers,
In layers of sumptuous plumage.
You take flight with grace,
Landing like gymnasts.
You sing a tune, so gently,
As you admire your reflection,
After hours of preening.
Understandable conceit,
Oh, the beautiful parakeet.
A gentle raindrop falls on my flushed cheek. At last, a cooling air to refresh this arid atmosphere. More water scatters, creating a pattern of dots on the patio. Each droplet fills the gaps.
My breathing slows as I immerse myself in this feeling of relief. My eyelids release a tear, which my chin catches briefly before it washes away.
The light pattering of rain gradually quickens in pace, as the droplets shatter against the conservatory roof, creating the sound of a tabla drum.
To follow, a downpour.
In response to Weekend Writing Prompt #158 found here
You took a second glance. I could
Forgive you for a wand’ring eye.
As long as you do not deny,
And just assume I’ve understood,
Given a choice, I know you would
Allow that longing, leering stare
To ricochet back to me where
It will be reciprocated.
Besides, I’ve often debated
To gaze, myself. It’s only fair.
In response to Ronovan Writes Décima Poetry Challenge Prompt No. 6 found here
There is no need to sever the atmosphere,
Which lingers like smog, between you.
Instead, swallow the bitter taste of fury,
Or let it lie stagnant in your heart, festering.
It will only grow tough, unshakable layers,
As it will not disintegrate.
Is anything better left unsaid?
Why don’t you put these fumes to bed?
