creative writing

Your Hinterland

When I think of you, I find myself looking towards the sky. I wonder if you are looking down at me.  Watching from above, with a pair of angelic wings. I believe that you are seeing heights only one stairway has ever led to.
I would prefer it if you were closer though. Thriving in flourishing meadows, behind the hills. I dream of watching you dance, as the playful breeze rattles the leaves of the oak trees. Just beyond the view from my window; your own hinterland.

Image credit: pixabay.com

In response to Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Prompt found here

creative writing

Spots and Wrinkles

The cheetah perched by the lake,
Cleansing her paws.
She scowled at the water,
For reflecting her flaws.

She rubbed at her spots,
But they wouldn’t disappear.
She loathed her matted coat,
And she shed a sullen tear.

An elephant came along,
And sat by her side.
“Just look at my wrinkles,
I wear them with pride!”

“How do you find the strength?”
The cheetah enquired.
“I found more to life than beauty,
And that’s all it required!”

Image Credit: Pixabay.com

In response to Wrinkle Writing Prompt: Sunday Scribblings #3 found here

creative writing

Worth Waiting For

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

creative writing

Wand’ring Eye Décima

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

creative writing

Left Unsaid

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?

creative writing

Free Puppet

My puppet master let go of the strings.

My eyes absorbed the world with a fresh perspective. Everything seemed so unusual; less enticing and seeped in danger. I didn’t know where to run, or whether to run at all.

I tried tying knots in the strings, praying my puppet master would guide me once again.

The knots only frayed…

I cowered in a corner, until I could muster up enough strength to breathe steadily. Exploring had once been a dream of mine, but in my mind, it had been safe and wonderful.

I must now become my own puppet master, but I will always clutch the strings tight.

creative writing

You Weren’t The First

You weren’t the first. Perhaps if you were, it wouldn’t have cut me so deep. I wouldn’t have become so numb. I may have even found forgiveness.

So unexpectedly, you cut me out of your life, as though I was a jagged edge on a piece of paper. Something so easily discarded without a second thought.

For a while, I wondered, perhaps I did something wrong? I tried to make amends, but I meant so little to you that I wasn’t even worthy of a response. It dawned on me that I held no value in your eyes.

So when you walked back into my life, did you really expect me to have left that space inside my heart all warm, cosy, and welcoming?

I have grieved, I have found acceptance, and to save myself, I have lost my respect for you.

You weren’t the first.

You won’t be the last.