Experimenting With Creative Writing
I sat beside a charming stream,
On the trunk of a fallen tree.
A perfect place to peacefully
Reconsider my latest dream.
I admired the water gleam,
Watching courageous ripples ride,
Toward the rocks, and then collide,
Meandering around the bends.
It taught me changes are not ends,
So I can drift, no need to glide.
In response to Ronovan Writes Décima Poetry Challenge Prompt No. 7 found here
When I consider my dream career,
I sink into a huge black hole.
My ideas are as abundant as saffron.
I find no certainty in my soul.
I lack the bravery of a lion heart,
I can’t do public speaking.
I’ll never have a saxophone solo,
As I’m not attention seeking.
All I know is I want to feel valued,
Like the elephant’s ivory.
I will set myself a goal:
By spring, I’ll know who I want to be.
In response to the Paint Chip Poetry Prompt #22 found here
Just relax as we journey into the deepest crevasse of your mind.
Slip past the danger sign; it’s only there for decoration.
Don’t be frightened, your subconscious is your true safe place: your childhood, your desires, and the key to deciphering all of your… Eccentricities.
Image credit: Pixabay.com
In response to Only 100 words: Three Line Tales #226 found here
Remember when we sat beneath the stars?
Gazing as the waves approached the shore,
I nestled in your arms. The night was ours.
Felt safer than I ever had before.
You turned to me and said you liked the way
It felt to have me in your grasp again.
You held me tighter still, and said someday,
To see you, I won’t have to catch a train.
Though distance holds no power over us,
Why does it hurt so much to be apart?
Then time refused to pause, or to discuss,
The desperate prayers within my aching heart.
My mind began to wander to a place,
Where every day I’m blessed to see your face.
One moment I was running, and then I took one look at your face and frowned. It was distorted. You were still beside me, your voice echoed in my ears, and I could still feel your soft skin, but it wasn’t your face. It wasn’t your body or your hair, or even your delicate eyes.
I am dreaming. I must be missing you.
I lean in closer, sensing every part of you, it seems so real. I believe that you’re there, you just look different. Then, I realise we are floating. Floating high above a place that doesn’t even exist. I am holding a cold glass of water. I feel the weight of it, and the drips of condensation on my fingertips. There’s no denying it’s existence.
I wake up, my hand clasped around air. For a second I’m convinced I’ve spilled the water until I feel reality.
I think back to us floating, and that unrecognisable face who represented you. It seems ridiculous now, but it still makes me pine for you and all day I feel a tingle. I wait for the night to come again, hoping for a continuation, but by then it has all faded away.
My Fresh Pages 