creative writing

Thank You

Here is a thank you for your left hip,
The curve of your waist and the shapely bone.
I love to hold it when we lean in for a kiss,
And it’s the one that I cling to when I feel alone.
Here is a thank you for your left shoulder,
The one that I rest on as we learn to dance.
The devil perches himself upon it, and whispers,
To hold me more tightly and show me romance.
Here is a thank you for your left hand,
The one that I squeeze when I need you to stay.
When I’m fearful, it guides me far, far away.
It’s the one that will wear my ring someday.

creative writing

A Heart’s Echo

Quietly rocks the garden swing, swaying in time with the autumn breeze. My eyes fixate on the seat, clutching to the chains, longing to see delicate fingers wrap around them once again.
The porch door clatters as the cat shoots through the hall, stealing my attention. As my eyes wander back to the garden swing, I see it lift up with a gust of wind, as if a child had leapt from it, up into the air, grasping for freedom.
Footsteps. Sodden footprints and bits of tarnished leaf are scattered through the kitchen, leading to the lounge. I follow the trail, forever hoping it will lead to you. I miss you so much that my heartache echoes into my every thought.

creative writing

Iceberg’s Tip Décima

The problem with a slow dance is,
It’s flawless – besides when it’s not.
Time heals, forgiveness, forgot.
The dilemma with a trance is,
Giving out infinite chances.
March down a disappointing track,
Waiting for your disguise to crack.
Each final straw, each iceberg’s tip,
Expectations finally slip,
And now there is no waltzing back.

Image credit: pixabay.com

In response to Ronovan Writes’ Décima Challenge found here

creative writing

The Vows

I vow from this day,
To always find a way,
Through life’s obstructions.
With no interruptions.
To see them as the thrills.
Like cyclic, rolling hills.
I promise to respect and trust,
To never let our love rust.
When I look into your eyes,
Sparkling lapis lazulis,
There is an open door I see,
To which I say “open sesame”.
I’ll always stay true.
Honey, I love you.

Image credit: pixabay.com

In response to the Paint Chip Poetry Prompt Challenge #34 found here

creative writing

The Clown

It matters not whether I frown,
Nor lower my head in shame.
For I will always be the clown,
In your wicked game.
Even when I tread with stealth,
And deny all that you claim,
I will always be myself,
When you put me in the frame.
You may not devise my fate,
No matter how precise your aim.
I will rise above your hate.
With pride, I state my name.

Image credit: pixabay.com

In response to dVerse’s Clowning Around Prompt found here

Also loosely inspired by Emeli Sandé’s Clown.

creative writing

Birthday Haibun

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

creative writing

Remind Shi Rensa Haiku

A single moment.
One we will never relive.
When I fell for you.

When I fell for you,
Everything was simple.
Remind me to love.

Remind me to love.
Help me recall memories,
Forgotten feelings.

Forgotten feelings.
My eyes still drawn to your light.
Remind me to trust.

In response to Ronovan Writes’ Haiku Challenge found here

Rejigged into the Shi Rensa Haiku format coined by Ronovan himself!

creative writing

A Magic Flight

Add fuel to the golden fire,
To make us go higher.
We took flight with no wings,
Only colourful rings,
Clutching a woven basket.
It took a while to grasp it,
But once we were suspended,
It could be comprehended,
That there is more to life,
Than war and strife.
Our view is panoramic.
There is such a thing as magic.
Though with each refreshing sigh,
We draw closer to ravens in the sky.

Image credit: pixabay.com

In response to dVerse’s flights of fancy challenge found here