Experimenting With Creative Writing
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.
Neglected, no chance to attach,
A childhood gone rotten.
As resilient as a baby seal.
A beautiful girl, forgotten.
Her world is backwards,
With nowhere to stay.
It has an unwelcome smell,
No downpour could wash away.
Yet it rains and rains,
Until she is wet, with a chill.
Like when the crickets stridulate,
Her cries are shrill.
The downfall is that she will grow,
Knowing how to hurt you.
Her expressions will be informal,
And she will hold no virtue.
Image credit: pixabay.com
In response to Mindlovemisery’s Wordle Prompt found here
At the lost and found,
Unnamed, unclaimed, unworthy.
Jewels all around.
Once loved perhaps, once cherished,
But now a forgotten gem.
A patchwork teddy,
Not mine- but I see stories.
Stitched and stuffed again.
The tattier the treasure,
The more loved is the relic.
Shared with dVerse for Open Link Night #270 found here
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
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.
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