Experimenting With Creative Writing
About
I began writing seriously at the beginning of lockdown. Music, poetry and fiction have become my true sanctuary, and I can’t see myself ever turning my back on them.
Rachael x
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.
Thank you to everyone who has given me encouragement, and provided me with writing prompts!
Here is a thank you for your left hip,
The curve of your waist and the shapely bone.
I love to hold it when we lean in for a kiss,
And it’s the one that I cling to when I feel alone.
Here is a thank you for your left shoulder,
The one that I rest on as we learn to dance.
The devil perches himself upon it, and whispers,
To hold me more tightly and show me romance.
Here is a thank you for your left hand,
The one that I squeeze when I need you to stay.
When I’m fearful, it guides me far, far away.
It’s the one that will wear my ring someday.
Quietly rocks the garden swing, swaying in time with the autumn breeze. My eyes fixate on the seat, clutching to the chains, longing to see delicate fingers wrap around them once again.
The porch door clatters as the cat shoots through the hall, stealing my attention. As my eyes wander back to the garden swing, I see it lift up with a gust of wind, as if a child had leapt from it, up into the air, grasping for freedom.
Footsteps. Sodden footprints and bits of tarnished leaf are scattered through the kitchen, leading to the lounge. I follow the trail, forever hoping it will lead to you. I miss you so much that my heartache echoes into my every thought.
You miss so much when you are rushed.
A white dove’s feather softly falls,
As lions flex their golden paws.
A ripened berry’s body blushed,
Before it’s bursting flesh was crushed.
A stem will grow with twists and swirls,
Before a single petal curls.
Perfect flakes of snow melt so fast,
In less time than eclipses last.
Wander free but don’t miss life’s pearls.
Image credit: pixabay.com
In response to Ronovan Writes’ Décima Challenge found here
The problem with a slow dance is,
It’s flawless – besides when it’s not.
Time heals, forgiveness, forgot.
The dilemma with a trance is,
Giving out infinite chances.
March down a disappointing track,
Waiting for your disguise to crack.
Each final straw, each iceberg’s tip,
Expectations finally slip,
And now there is no waltzing back.
Image credit: pixabay.com
In response to Ronovan Writes’ Décima Challenge found here
I have had another poem published, entitled Our Summers, in the Visual Verse anthology.
A short poem celebrating childhood summers.
My inspiration came from my own childhood, which was spent knocking on neighbours’ doors and spending all day outside playing hide and seek.
I vow from this day,
To always find a way,
Through life’s obstructions.
With no interruptions.
To see them as the thrills.
Like cyclic, rolling hills.
I promise to respect and trust,
To never let our love rust.
When I look into your eyes,
Sparkling lapis lazulis,
There is an open door I see,
To which I say “open sesame”.
I’ll always stay true.
Honey, I love you.
Image credit: pixabay.com
In response to the Paint Chip Poetry Prompt Challenge #34 found here
When you journey through memories,
Do you appreciate the ride?
Do you find love or hope or pride?
Do those old times put you at ease?
Or are you caught on choppy seas?
Do you close your denying eyes,
And pray for your boat to capsize?
Do you feel anything at all?
Besides the terrifying fall,
From dreamy fabricated skies.
Image credit: pixabay.com
In response to Ronovan Writes’ Décima Challenge #19 found here
It matters not whether I frown,
Nor lower my head in shame.
For I will always be the clown,
In your wicked game.
Even when I tread with stealth,
And deny all that you claim,
I will always be myself,
When you put me in the frame.
You may not devise my fate,
No matter how precise your aim.
I will rise above your hate.
With pride, I state my name.
Image credit: pixabay.com
In response to dVerse’s Clowning Around Prompt found here
Also loosely inspired by Emeli Sandé’s Clown.
Whip your hair around.
Don’t trip- as you lose focus,
Racing for the door.
In response to Ronovan Writes’ Haiku Challenge #319 found here
Wild rabbit applauded,
The hue of pink orchid.
Now all he desires is a doe.
There’s no sweeter investment,
Nor filled with contentment,
Than one which continues to grow.
Shared with dVerse for Open Link Night found here
The rabbit and orchid were painted by myself using acrylics and watercolours.
