Experimenting With Creative Writing
Scruffy is an unmade bed,
But it’s so inviting on a cold morning.
It’s nostalgic- takes me back
To being told of heart-warming
Tales from the past –
From before I even existed,
When the old were once young,
And as a child, I insisted
On voices, impressions,
As you proceeded with the saga.
I shared in your laughter,
And envisioned the drama.
Often bringing a pillow,
To cushion my head,
As I prepared for more stories
On the vast double bed.
Image from pixabay.com
Behold, teleportation!
Behold, a new way of travelling!
A teleportation device is unravelling!
All you need is a clicker,
To travel much quicker!
I know it all sounds rather baffling.
Oh, what would I give
For the news that we can see
Those we love, safely.
In response to the thirteenth “tomorrow’s news” prompt from NaPoWriMo.net, inspired by a prompt from Sundress Publications.
A limerick for fun, but a haiku to remove the mask, if you will.
I woke up on my 20th birthday with a sore head. I remember the clinking of glasses, the vibrations of the speakers, and the roll of the dice across the breakfast bar, from the night before. I smiled at the thought of celebrating late into the night with my friends.
It was time to smarten myself up ready to catch the train back home. I smeared foundation over the bags under my eyes.
Upon returning home, I saw a giant balloon with a hand-written 20 on it. I enjoyed a buffet with my mother and grandparents. I smiled at the thought of celebrating all day long with my family.
My mood is lifted,
Contrasting celebrations.
I smile at the thought.
In response to dVerse’s Birthday Haibun Challenge found here
If I was a dessert,
I’d be the humble banana split,
A reliable ally.
I just don’t have the character,
Of the rich key lime pie.
If I were a flower,
I’d be the plain-petalled daisy.
No obvious dangers.
I just don’t have the character,
Of grandma’s hydrangeas.
Being average runs in the family,
Nothing mystical to see here.
I’m thankful though.
I just don’t have the character,
To put on a show.
Image credit: pixabay.com
In response to the Paint Chip Poetry Prompt Challenge #27 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?
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.
When reunited,
I will crumble. Won’t quite catch
My breath. Console me.
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