creative writing

Faithful Seed Quadrille

Faithful seed, be loyal and true,
As I have been with you.
I long to see you try.
Be driven and fight,
Fight until you pull through.
Faithful seed, I plead with you.
Take everything I have and grow,
Grow stronger than you know.

In response to dVerse’s “seed quadrille” prompt.

A poem filled with hope, emotion, and desperation.

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

Long Distance Sonnet

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.

creative writing

At My Fingertips

Her hands tremble as she traces the spiralling ridges of my fingertips with her delicate fingers. I try to catch her eye but she is avoidant. I pull my hand away and she stares into the space where my palm had been.

“What is it?” I ask, hesitantly.

She gathers herself together, wiping her hands on her robes. She clears her throat, but continues to avoid my gaze.

It then became imminently clear that my palms did not narrate tales of good fortune. No, that look was unequivocal. Only tragedy; a succession of disappointing events lay ahead, steeped in loss, fear, and grief.

It was too late to consider whether there is any truth hidden behind the creases on your hands. Continuing to walk the same paths with the same attitude became a risk. It was from this day that I carried gratitude with me wherever I went.

Gratitude reminds me that beneath the pressure of life lives a dormant element of peace. She had failed to find resilience at my fingertips.

An old post, rejigged for MindLoveMisery’s Fortune Teller Prompt found here