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
Like the deciduous tree,
You will regain your leaves this summer,
And every year thereafter.
You will have life again,
As you will reside in my memories.
With every smile,
I will think of you,
And wish I could see
Your reaction too.
I will remember you also
With every tear,
I know how it felt to hold your hand,
And I will hope that you are near.
In memory of my mum.
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.
Removing Love’s Mask
“Please stay, I love you”
Tossing rose blossom before your eyes,
Filling your stomach with fluttering flies,
Echoing whispered tunes in your ears,
And causing your skin to absorb all the tears.
Pounding your heart at a marathon rate,
Rattling your joints, wavering your gait.
Drying your mouth, clouding your brain.
Tickling your nerves, interrupting the pain.
Place a finger over the verbal attack
And tell them “I don’t love you back”.
Don’t give love power to enshroud the blue.
Lie to remove love’s mask,
Starve the cycle, and relieve you.
In response to the eighteenth “poemcrazy” prompt from NaPoWriMo.net
I chose the chapter title: “Lying to tell the truth” from Susan G. Wooldridge’s “Poemcrazy: Freeing Your Life with Words” as inspiration.
Mother’s Songs
All it takes is one little word,
To crop up in conversation,
And suddenly my mother believes,
That she is a singing sensation.
But! She sings several octaves higher,
Than the artist of the song,
In a barely recognisable tune,
Plus, the lyrics are always wrong.
Well it didn’t take long at all
Before I would break into a song!
Luckily I know my lyrics,
So at least I don’t get those wrong.
Mother sings often,
Spirit as high as her key!
It is contagious.
In response to the fifteenth “bad habits” prompt from NaPoWriMo.net
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.
Pursuit of Bold Dreams
A warm husky voice calms me,
Brings me memories captured in resin.
Nostalgia engulfs me,
And carries a worthy lesson.
Pursuit of a dream
Takes effort, with no bounds,
A furious rhythm foists me to seek,
To search, to pine, for bold sounds.
My tangled earphones surround me,
Reminding me of soft childhood tunes,
But we must leap over stepping stones,
Exploring far from the banks,
Even on rainy afternoons.
In response to the tenth “junk drawer song” prompt from NaPoWriMo.net
Instructions can be found here.
My chosen song was Hugh Harris’ Rhythm of Life, and my junk drawer contained: wires; shells encased in resin; old music devices; and a ring pouch.
A Cat’s To Do List
I must remember to wake my human,
Before I bumble downstairs.
I prod her face, with my gentle paw,
And purr until she cares.
When I hear her footsteps,
Along the staircase,
It’s time to wiggle my rear, jump off the bed,
And then begin the race.
I always beat her to the door,
But I must remember my belly.
So I will rush to my bowl, in the kitchen,
And demand the food most smelly.
After chasing the birds, I must not forget,
When it’s time to come inside.
I must cause a raucous, with my yowl,
But this damages my pride.
So when my human opens the door,
Her patience I must test.
I stretch, I lick, then I strut inside.
And at last, I will need a rest.
In response to the ninth “to do list” prompt from NaPoWriMo.net
Based on the antics of Jake, my childhood friend, who blessed my life for sixteen years.
Green, Victor
The tide was not completely in,
There had been no splashes on the sea wall,
All along the west of the beach.
And yet I heard the moon call.
I saw her enticing light,
But it was not my time.
Still, I lie buried beneath spades of dirt.
And for what crime?
I am fuelled with anger,
I, like the tide, never finished my round.
Now I have no power over you,
I’m just decaying in the ground.
I hope my love will not move on,
There’s no better man than me.
I knew what was best for you,
Tell my story right, I plea.
I never hurt you, never once.
I only taught you right.
Your wrongs were corrected,
Each time we had a little fight.
I can’t bear to watch over you,
When I have no control.
Instead I’ll walk across the sand,
As the untimely waves roll.
A continuation of Vic’s Haunt, a previous poem of mine!
In response to the eighth “Return to Spoon River” prompt from NaPoWriMo.net
Inspired by the poems featured in Edgar Lee Masters’ Spoon River Anthology.
Love Decides
When we forget to try, love runs and hides.
There is no bribe for love, as she decides.
Cussing and a sharp tongue scares love away.
In the same way that forgetting to say:
I love you, will cause love’s laces to fray.
If you love, in existence love will stay.
If she buries herself deep within,
(And there is little you can do to win),
She is worth patience, so leave love free to roam.
When we forget to try, let love find home.
In response to the fifth “The Shapes a Bright Container Can Contain” prompt from NaPoWriMo.net
I chose Tennessee Williams’ “We Have Not Long to Love” as a structural reference for this prompt.
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