Shakespeare Quote of the Day

"Is it a world to hide virtues in?"
-Twelfth Night

Happy Halloween!

In October when the sun goes down

There comes the beasts of gown and crown

Fluffy pink and midnight blue

Can you be cute and scary too?

Fierce little tigers, ghouls and ghosts

Grabbing candy from their hosts

Princesses marching up the street

Waving wands to gain a treat

Bloody pumpkins, chains, and moans

Skeletons with missing bones

Enough candy to rot teeth

Put your sword back in its sheath!

Toddlers dressed in pumpkin suits

Cowboy hats with high heeled boots

Do you need a pillowcase?

Better bring two, and increase your pace

Maybe you will need a truck

That much candy will need luck

Give them a sweet smile and say

"Hope you had a wonderful day"

The creepiest is the haunted house

The witch is sweating through her blouse

Face paint really makes a scare

If you put it in your hair

Shall we eat some pumpkin seeds?

The gypsy wants to buy more beads

Boards that creak beneath your feet

Hungry for anything sweet

Circumstances unforeseen

Wish me Happy Halloween!

Write on Wednesday-When the music's over...

The Write On Wednesday Rules: Get creative with the writing exercises - there isn't a right or wrong. Please do try to visit the other members of Write On Wednesdays and leave a comment of support and constructive criticism. 


Write On Wednesdays Exercise 22 - Select a piece of music that reflects the mood of writing you'd like to aim for. Press play. Start free writing. Write the first words that come into your head. When the music's over, so is the writing. I'd recommend finding out how long the song is before you start the exercise. You may feel cheated in your writing time if you pick a song by The Ramones. Of course, if you feel like writing a short, punky piece by all means, go for it!

This week's prompt was a good one, and I liked choosing the song and then writing whatever came to my fingers. I chose the song "Music of the Night" from the Phantom of the Opera, because I am a HUGE fan of that musical. Anyway, I came up with a pretty odd piece. I had no idea it would end up like this, and it was rather dark, but then again so is the song. I kind of cheated and played through the song twice, because after listening once I could feel that I wasn't done yet. Anyway, hope you like it, and thanks again for all your lovely comments last week!

~Claire

The grass was cool under her feet and the moon hung ripe and low in the sky. She could feel the night pulsing, around her and through her. The sweet air made her feel drunk with darkness and serenity. Trees dipped and swayed in the breeze, and her night gown rippled with the grasses. At this time, light was silver, the night was magical. Warlocks hid behind bushes, doing dastardly deeds. She could feel the heartbeats of mice, asleep in their dens, and the soft padding of the cat’s paws in the dark. The cat was a wanderer, just like herself. 

She found herself walking across a field, staring up at the galaxy spread above her, a patchwork quilt of the sky. Every fiber felt alive, the leaves whispered to her, the stalks of plants tickled her feet. The blackness of the forest gleamed at her hungrily. There was the unknown territory, and it was pulling her in. She could feel the tug, the urge to jump into the dark waters of the lakes, to rush through woods of blackness and sing to the moon. 

As the night began to consume her very being, she gasped in ecstasy and again, when she looked down to find her feet several inches from the dewy ground. She rose up, nightgown billowing around her, a sail to guide her journey into open ocean. The trees danced in a sudden wind, she heard the howls of wolves and the gentle snores of sleepers. The night around her pressed inward, her pale, pearly hand outstretched to meet the ebony blackness on either side of her. She glided towards the stars, cushioned by shadows, blanketed by the specters of night. Blooms of murkiness ballooned about her, weaving long black tentacles into her auburn hair. 

Every sense was alive, joyous, and in tune. Her bare feet rose, brushing the treetops, and she began to fly up. Up over the houses, away from the woods, over the gloomy waters of the lake. Already, there was a pale line of primrose on the horizon, the night was drawing to a close. She turned her ivory face away from the sun, her arms outstretched, embracing the darkness, not the light. The music of the night flowed around her, the shadows lurked inside of her. She turned away from the light, the life she had. As the sun rose in brilliant splendor, she sped west, following the night which had captured her soul and her heart. She could hear the music. She could feel the magic of the night. 

Picture Story: A Night of Snow

Once on an October night
The weather put on a show of might

We awoke to wind and snow
Where oh where did autumn go?




The morning came, we rushed outside
Laughing, we started to slip and slide




The camera flashed and captured trees
That looked a little weak at the knees
The scoreboard stood, I watched and grinned

Winter came quickly to snag the win



With Halloween but a night away
What were we to do today?






My brothers did just what they could
Playing and fighting with snow and wood

The trees were chilled, and so were we
We ran through fields, happy and free



Until it was time to go inside
Where it was time for our mother to chide




The day was passed in snowy fun
Yet the snowstorm had us all stunned

The day before Halloween came snow
We wanted it gone, it had nowhere to go

Versatile Blogger Award

First off, thanks so much to Lillie McFerrin and Rain for nominating me for the Versatile Blogger Award! I am honored that people who I have known for such a short amount of time could choose me as a versatile blogger. I am getting all warm and fuzzy inside!

The rules of the versatile blogger award are as follows: I must give seven facts about myself, then pass on the award to 15 newly discovered bloggers who I think deserve it.

Here are seven interesting facts about me:

1. I love to write haikus. They are quick and easy, yet can hold so much depth and emotion in so few words. Haikus are my go to type of poetry, but my favorite type to write ever is free verse. I love to stare at a blank page and know that I can write anything I want to.
2. My (not so) secret dream for "When I grow Up" is to become a writer and a poet, and live on a farm in Vermont. In my fantasy, I would own a donkey and two collies, and perhaps other animals too.
3. I am completely obsessed with soccer. I avidly follow international soccer, and my favorite team is Chelsea Football Club in London. I love to watch and play soccer, and my bedroom is covered with posters of Lionel Messi and Cristiano Ronaldo.
4. I am the textbook definition of a bookworm. I adore classic literature, especially English, including Jane Eyre, Shakespeare, and P.G. Wodehouse.
5. I am a helpless romantic and believe that the best stories have happy endings. I LOVE happy endings (Nicholas Sparks, anyone?)!
6. I have two brothers who were born on my third birthday. People are always interested by this, even though I would rather have my own birthday!
7. I love blogging, and am quickly becoming an obsessive. I now have two blogs and my favorite part of the day is always writing my poems.

And now for the moment of truth...The truth is, I don't know who to give this too. I love getting it, and I wish I could just give it to everyone!
I would like to give this award to everyone who I have read so far at Write on Wednesdays. You are all amazing writers, and made me feel so welcome in the world of writing. Special shout out to Gill at Ink Paper Pen who organizes WoW and is a very versatile blogger, and to Lillie McFerrin and Rain, who nominated me, and who I would like to nominate back, because I think the same of them. I also want to nominate a friend of mine who is new to blogging, because I believe she will develop something special. That is Sam at Team Reverie...

Thanks again so much for nominating me, and thank you to everyone at WoW who has helped me along the way!

Claire

Shakespeare Quote of the Day

"We should be wooed, and were not made to woo"
-A Midsummer Night's Dream

Gloves

My hands they feel as numb as ice

If only thick gloves would suffice

But know the chill seeps right through all

I guess I will brave out this squall

Shakespeare Quote of the Day

"I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,
Where oxlips and nodding violet grows,
Quite overcanopied with luscious woodbine,
With sweet musk-roses, and with eglantine"
-A Midsummer Night's Dream

Snow?

White fabric covers the grass. Pure as a wedding dress, light as the downy feather of a baby bird.
Wet and crisp as a juicy apple. Sifting over the orange of our pumpkins. Dripping, melted from the roof.
Before its time, like jingle bells in September, flip-flops in January.
Snow in October? Can it be?
Methinks it is a little early...

Five Sentence Fiction

Hey there everyone. I have been meaning to try out five sentence fiction for awhile, because I was curious and it kind of reminded me of poetry. Five sentence fiction can be found every week at Spring Days, New Growth, which is another good writing blog I found through Write on Wednesdays. Anyways, here we go!

What it’s all about: Five Sentence Fiction is about packing a powerful punch in a tiny fist. Each week I will post a one word inspiration, then anyone wishing to participate will write a five sentence story based on the inspiration word. The word does not have to appear in your five sentences, just take your inspiration from that word. 


Word this week: Horror


"Mo-om, this tiara doesn't fit right, " whined Sabrina, picking at the sickening costume she herself had decided on. Oh, the horror, thought her mother, drifting up the stairs yet again to perfect the cloud of pink which had descended on her daughter. Sabrina had found this year's costume "all by herself," which had haunted her mother solidly for the past week and a half. As she straightened her sweetie's glittering crown in preparation for the big night, anyone watching would have thought this was some pre-pagaent ritual, that she was reading her daughter for the catwalk, but Sabrina's mother just sighed. It was only Halloween, after all.  

Anger?

Rain is sad. A deep and thrilling melancholy which wrenches the soul and suppresses the senses. Seeps beneath your hair and into your brain. Rain is a blessing. A wet plague. Rain makes cars angry. They splash defiantly past and a cruel wave of water follows. Drenches innocents who walk
By the side of the road.
Rain. So very sad and wet. Frigid rain, slanting sideways in the wind. Chilled to the bone. Desperate. Rain is a torture.
Light and warm. Silky smooth and smiling. Summer rain. Washes clear the sky. Slips by, sugary sweet. Summer rain brings Rainbows.
Rainbows bring Happiness.

Shakespeare Quote of the Day

"My state is desperate for my master's love"
-Twelfth Night

Jump

here I am 

all alone

left to flourish

left to roam

I stepped into this pot of soup

It's up to me not to droop

I am ready

do your worst

I refuse

to feel cursed

I feel blessed 

every day

I hope my luck

is here to stay

here we go

it's time to jump

I will not

land with a  thump

here we go

I'll fly away

and jump into 

a bright new day

Golden Leaves

Scattered bits of gold
They litter the grass and fall
From the boughs of trees

Shakespeare Quote of the Day

"Away before me to sweet beds of flowers.
Love thoughts lie rich when canopied with bowers"
-Twelfth Night

To Catch a Sailboat

One day when I was down by the sea

Drinking in the warm summer sun

A magnificent thought came to me

But my adventures had just begun

The sun was shining clear and bright

I saw a sailboat passing near

The sails were crisp and in full height

I almost jumped right off the peer

The sailboat laughed, but me, I cried

To watch it sailing far away

Through the water it did glide

I swore at it and cursed the day

The day the sailboat turned me down

The day my hopes were dashed

I slid into the water and tried to drown

For Oh the sailboat and I did clash

But swim I did and rather fast

Down the narrow, chilly straight

The sailboat snickered from the mast

All the way low to its freight

One day I caught a white sailboat

A day of sunshine clear and bright

And I have learned to gloat and gloat

To sing about my glorious might

Write on Wednesdays-I thought I saw

Write On Wednesdays Exercise 20 - Write the words " I thought I saw" at the top of your page. Set a timer for 5 minutes. Write the first words that come into your head after the prompt. Don't take you pen off the page (or fingers off the keyboard). Stop only when the buzzer rings! Do this exercise over and over if you wish. Write beyond 5 minutes if you like, you can link it up as an extra post.



I thought I saw a flash of lightning. Quick and jagged, piercing the ebony night like a rip in the fabric of the sky. My hands drummed nervously on the wheel as the rain began to come down. First slowly, then heating up fast like a salsa dance. My foot eased off the gas pedal and I frantically turned the dial of the radio, searching for a distraction. I hated lightning. Thunder boomed a bass note and the trees stood out, tall and unforgiving against the greenish black light of the tempest. Now the bass of the thunder was echoed by the thumping bass on the radio. The car's windshield wipers kept time, an odd tempo. I jiggled in my seat and swung around a narrow corner. Perhaps I was going too fast, but I wanted away from the storm and the night and the terrors I am sure were awaiting me. The steering wheel was now as wet as the car with beads of sweat from my fingers. Suddenly, a truck loomed before me, lights blinding and wheels skidding. I screamed in perfect time with the song, but for a very different reason, as my hands came off the wheel to cover my face. Lightning raced across the torn fabric of the sky as the rain poured down. The storm was in full swing. 




Well, that's what I have for this week. I enjoyed another five minute stream, because it gave me enough time to get my scene warmed up, yet not enough to let me stop and think about what to do next. I like the hurry, because it forces my ideas to come more quickly. Last week's prompt went very well, and I received a lot of wonderful feedback. Thank you so much for the time you put in to read mine, and I try to read most of yours...


Claire

Shakespeare Quote of the Day

"This was a great argument of love in her toward you"
-Twelfth Night

Concert

Voices raised in joyous melody. 

Soaring on high, melding with the rich wood of the rafters.

Conveying the words of a hundred years past.

Sweet tones, dulcet airs. Everlasting song.

Mouths open and swaying to the tune.

Music so deep it seeps slowly and lazily into your soul.

The chorus brings soft smiles to the faces of those who listen.

The chapel is brimming with noise. With happiness.

Like a cup of sunshine, singing. Drink it up, the warm feeling.

Music in your heart and mind together. Carved wood rejoices when it is hit

By the tender notes

Of a song.

Shakespeare Quote of the Day

"You pay a great deal too dear for what's given freely"
-The Winter's Tale

Goal

There's nothing like the swoosh of the net
To prove to your team you are a threat
The rocket shot that came from your soul
Has found its way into the goal

Shakespeare Quote of the Day

"I do adore thee so
That danger shall seem sport, and I shall go"
-Twelfth Night

Excitement

Pitcher of honey
Golden and creamy, tonight
Taste of excitement

Shakespeare Quote of the Day

"Thou art a foolish fellow"
-Twelfth Night

Chill

Once a frigid morning chill
Crept up to my windowsill
Pleaded for me to let it stay
I chastely sent it on its way

Shakespeare Quote of the Day

"And this, our life, exempt from public haunt, finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in everything."
-As You like It

Sunrise

A fiery sphere bursts through

Grey trunks of dawn

Silent grasses wave

In a faint zephyr

The sun rises

A haze of golden dust

Descends upon the earth

Warming the ground

Emerald leaves

Now ruby in the light

Across the field

A house is lit by the sunshine

The upper window is open

Letting in the bird's sweet song

The chill of morning

The light

Inside, a girl wakes

Rubs her bleary eyes

Her smile thick with sleep

She rises and pulls back the shade

She wouldn't miss it for anything

Sunrise

Shakespeare Quote of the Day

"Fools cure not mad folks"
-Cymbeline

This is me running

Lungs straining and gasping. A pair of twins that work as one, they rise and fall. Legs pumping, chest heaving, sweat falling out of my pores like a faucet with a solitary drip.
Drip. Drip. The blue crust of the track is slippery under my feet. It is beginning to moisten under the slight rain. Drip. Drip. Dripping from the sky.
The music in my ears is harsh and pounding. Just the way I want it today. I open my mouth in the fog and the rain, breathing deeply and raggedly. Stop to stretch, put my hands on my knees and survey
The dark morning. Two walkers pass by, they are casual and unobserving. A dog is barking somewhere, but in my state of being, I cannot hear a thing. This is me running.

Shakespeare Quote of the Day

"The painter plays the spider, and hath woven
A golden mesh to trap the hearts of men"
-The Merchant of Venice

Spark

One spark of sunshine
Alone in a world of grey
Protected and saved

Write on Wednesdays-Sunshine in a Cup

This week, the WoW exercise was only 5 minutes. I love Emily Dickinson, and I loved this exercise. In the end, I wrote two and decided to post both. I think I am leaning towards the first one, but tell me what you think...


Write On Wednesdays Exercise 19 - Sunshine in a cup. Write the words of Emily Dickinson: "Bring me sunshine in a cup" at the top of your page. Set a timer for 5 minutes. Write the first words that come into your head after the prompt. Don't take you pen off the page (or fingers off the keyboard). Stop only when the buzzer rings! Do this exercise over and over if you wish. Write beyond 5 minutes if you like, you can link it up as an extra post.

First Attempt:

Bring me sunshine in a cup.
Let me drink it out of the mug, still warm from your fingers.
I will smile a lazy, happy smile. The rays of light will fill me to the brim. I will be full of joy.
Next, I will hand my cup to you. Share the love and the light. A wave of warmth will spread through me. I will forget the worn couch and the peeling paint on the walls. There will be grass at my feet. We are in a meadow full of emerald and flowers. Bees are humming busily and everything in the world has something to do. I rejoice in the sights and sounds, my light shirt whipping around me in the wind. The sun is shining and we are smiling. So much happiness I think my heart will break. The trees sway in the breeze as I find the mug and greedily take another swig before setting it down and wrapping my arms around you. Bring me sunshine in a cup.

Second Attempt:
Bring me sunshine in a cup. Heal my wounds, make me whole again. Child, I have stories that would make you cry. I know they make me cry. Bring me sunshine, child, My bones are too old to get it myself. Now, go out into the fields, find the right place, and sit down. Close your eyes and feel it all around you, feel it inside you. Let the sunshine seep into your soul, and erase everything else for just a moment. Erase all the pain. When your back is as warm as your heart, think of me. Think of me sitting in this dark room, not seeing anything. When you think about me, I will feel it. There is my sunshine, child. Bring it to me, I cannot get it myself.

Shakespeare Quote of the Day

"I do I know what, and fear to find

Mine eye too great a flatterer for my mind.

Fate, show thy force. Ourselves we do not owe.

What is decreed must be, and be this so"

-Twelfth Night

Perfect Times

Perfect air. Clean grass and leaves
Sprinkled like flowers, they fall in my hair, on my face
As I lay on the ground
Stare up through the web of branches
At the sky.

Shakespeare Quote of the Day

"O, had I but followed the arts!'
Twelfth Night

The Show

A perfect weather day. Crisp and clean as a whitewashed wall. An apple picking, finger licking day.
Leaves swirl through the air like tiny puppets twirling on strings. Red and yellow and orange flash by, dancing on the hands of a master puppeteer.
In the distance, a slate grey cloud. Hovering on the edge, waiting for its entrance. Slowly it moves in from the wings. Dancing the stately waltz of rain. It soars on stage, the puppeteer pouring droplets from above.
Scenes change, lights flit on and off. Then the stage is quiet and dark.
The show is over.

Shakespeare Quote of the Day

"Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty,
Youth's a stuff will not endure"
-Twelfth Night

Wet Leaves

Wet leaves under foot
Squelching against galoshes
Textures of noodles

Shakespeare Quote of the Day

"Anything that's mended is but patched"
-Twelfth Night

Mosquito

Love is like a mosquito. Sneaking up when you are least expecting, buzzing faintly in your ear. Sometimes ignored, sometimes slapped quickly,  nipped at the bud.
Droplets of red stain your fingers, where you slapped love away, killed it fast. The redness is sticky,
Like strawberry jam, but less innocent. Sometimes you don't notice until
It is too late, the mosquito lands on its target and takes hold. Sucks you dry while you are oblivious.
Then love floats away in a daze. Lazy and full of food. Tipsy and drunken.
You feel the emptiness, then the itch.
It starts small, but hard to ignore. It marks the spot
Where love once was.

Shakespeare Quote of the Day

"Then let thy love be younger than thyself,
Or thy affection cannot hold the bent"
-Twelfth Night

Signed, someone with a chill

Dear weather man up in the sky,

Why?

Shivering, cloaked in cold and
Many sweatshirts. The winds seem to howl around me
They are probably faint zephyrs to everyone else.
My nose is a cherry tomato. My ears most likely
Ruby red. I snuffle and sniffle. Rub my numb fingers together. They are blue.
Today the cold makes me
A rainbow. Multicolored.
My toes curl and uncurl in my sneakers.
Note to self: wear thicker socks. Next time.
Of course I hope there will be no next time.
But it is October, and I live in New England,
So yes.

Until next time,
Someone with a Chill

Write on Wednesdays-Make it Better

This week I struggled a little on rewriting a previous piece. I chose the piece from two weeks ago about the mailman, and tried as hard as I could to scrape off bad bits and clarify others. Please criticize me all you want, because I have never been very good at editing.... One other note, if you have any time, I would love for you to read some of my poems. Obviously not necessary, but it would be nice.

Thank you for all your support and encouragement so far!

Claire



The Mailman-Original

He had the radio on to some trashy station that he wasn’t paying attention to. His foot was resting easily on the gas pedal as he puttered up another nondescript street. The collar of his shirt was itchy, and his hand frequently found itself scratching his neck. At the first house, he stopped and, grabbing his oversize carrier bag, climbed out of the blue and white truck and walked up the steps.

His worn out sneakers slapped the sidewalk as he gathered the letters and ads in one hand and expertly dished them out into the mailbox.  He inwardly groaned at the advertisements which he saw so often, knowing that only he could appreciate their nastiness. He, who carried them around all day, wishing desperately that he would find a wad of cash tucked into the magazines, or a secret note on the back of a letter, just to make his life a little less mundane.

The letters were different. He loved those envelopes, which told so many stories about the people who trusted their correspondence to him. He only wished that some day there would be more, not the dwindling number of droopy birthday wishes and sappy wedding invites. Every day he yearned more for true letters, fat paper packages filled with pages of deep sentiments and secret thoughts.

Over the years, he had begun to lose hope, waiting day after day for something special, something addressed to him. His hair had whitened, his bones had grown old and weary, yet still the postman waited. He knew his day would come, and when it finally happened, he was ready for it. He sat in his truck, which was nearly as old as he was, smiled an elderly smile, and ripped open the bulging envelope, only to gasp aloud and fall back into his seat, completely stunned.

The Mailman-Edited

The achingly obvious blue and white mail truck wound its way through the sleepy little town, delivering the usual odds and ends that so often come in the mail these days. Inside the truck, the mailman turned the radio to a station of music he didn’t care about, scratched absently at his collar, and pushed down easily on the gas as he puttered up another nondescript street. At the first house, he stopped and, grabbing his oversize carrier bag, climbed out of the truck and walked up the steps.

His worn out sneakers slapped the sidewalk as he gathered the letters and ads in one hand and expertly dished them out into the mailbox.  He groaned at the boring advertisements, and gave a silent cheer for every thick creamy envelope, which he hoped contained wishes and dreams. He loved those envelopes, which told so many stories about the people who trusted their correspondence to him. He only wished that some day there would be more, not the dwindling number of droopy birthday wishes and sappy wedding invites. Every day he yearned more for true letters, fat paper packages filled with pages of deep sentiments and secret thoughts.

Over the years, he had begun to lose hope, waiting day after day for something special, something addressed to him. His enthusiasm for the job faded over the years as his own correspondance dwindled down to nothing. His hair whitened, his bones grew old and weary, yet still the postman waited. Sometimes on dreary days, he sat in the truck by himself well into the day, silver tears making tracks down his cheeks. Then, one day, everything changed. Under a pile of newspapers, he discovered an envelope, yellowed with age. The front and back were blank. Breathing heavily with barely contained excitement, he slit open the letter, and gasped aloud.

Shakespeare Quote of the Day

"There’s small choice in rotten apples"
-The Taming of the Shrew

Spending Time Outdoors

Lying under leafy bower

I smile and rejoice this hour

Shakespeare Quote of the Day

"Trust me, I take him for the better dog"
-The Taming of the Shrew

Doodling

Black ink doodling
Optical illusions and
Stains of past ideas

Shakespeare Quote of the Day

"True is it that we have seen better days"
-As You Like It

Foliage

the branches are a blazing pyre
their very souls are breathing fire
leaves the color of cranberry sauce
orange and yellow as silky floss
the sunshine reflects on the tops of the trees
while shards of color float on the breeze
scattered the ground is with fragments of light
orange as pumpkins and sweet as a sprite
soon they will crumple to dark brown and grey
we stare at the leaves, wishing them to stay
but autumn is but one season a year
so let us rejoice while the air is clear

Shakespeare Quote of the Day

"Love sought is good, but giv'n unsought is better"
Twelfth Night

Crying

Silver diamonds spill
Across the cheeks and the face
Life makes her cry hard

Shakespeare Quote of the Day

"Where they most breed and haunt, I have observed
The air is delicate"
-Macbeth

Pride

Autumnal pride rests
In hearts of New Englander's
As the trees turn red

Shakespeare Quote of the Day

"I must love you, and sue to know you better"
-King Lear

A Picture

the air ripples my hair, sending clumps over my shoulder
leaves scatter as I shuffle by
a flurry of red, like a dying fire breathing its last breath
the grass is green
but not for long. pieces of gold crackle in the wind, under my feet
the tip of my nose is pink
from the coolness of the afternoon
and the many tissues that irritate it
the sky is a blue so brilliant
that sapphires everywhere
are put to shame

Shakespeare Quote of the Day

"I hope, sir, your good worship will be my bail"
-Measure for Measure

Autumn

Flaming leaves of gold

Crisp cool air with fresh smells of

Warm apples baking

Shakespeare Quote of the Day

"Nay, then I cannot blame his cousin king,
That wish'd him on the barren mountains starve"
-Henry IV

Vignettes

Vignettes flit across
The dark and misty expanse
Of my writer's mind

Shakespeare Quote of the Day

"He that is strucken blind cannot forget
The precious treasure of his eyesight lost."
-Romeo and Juliet

What Might Have Been

When I sit down with book or pen
I think about what might have been
Imagining a world so free
Happiness for you and me
Unspoken words drift in the air
We catch them all without a care
Love and laughter, spring and fall
We would be missing nothing at all
Our hearts are one upon this track
In the midst of it, think back
To the times we spent as one
Smiling under golden sun

Write on Wednesdays Flashback- Two Fat Ladies

This week we were allowed to choose one prompt that had already been done, and I chose the Two Fat Ladies exercise because it seemed entertaining and very fun. I went to one of many bookshelves and pulled out the 8th book, which was Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë.

Write On Wednesdays Exercise 4: Two Fat Ladies (88!):  I am sticking with the timed theme. It is much easier to find a spare 5 minutes than a big chunk of time to write.  Grab the 8th book from your bookshelf. Open it to page 8. Scroll down to the 8th sentence. Write this sentence at the top of your page. Set your timer for 5 minutes and write the first words that come into your head after your writing prompt.  Stop when the buzzer rings! Do this exercise over and over if you wish. It will be interesting to see where all our different prompts take us.

On that bleak hill-top the earth was hard with a black frost, and the air made me shiver through every limb...


I could feel their presence even if I was yet to hear their voices, the baying of the hounds on the trail, the mad barking that accompanied them over the hills and through the valleys as their quarry grew near. My breath came in short gasps as I climbed hill after hill, seeking to put as much distance as possible between me and my pursuers. Between me and my family. I shuddered, trying not to think of the trail they were following. The drops of dried blood spattered on bushes and the coarse grasses of the moor. What had I done? I looked down at my ruby hands. How many times had I scrubbed at them and cursed, wishing I was someone else. The trees were etched into the mist, casting eerie shadows in the foggy afternoon. I turned back at the top of the hill, staring in the direction I had come. I could hear the voices calling, begging me to return, yet none of them knew what I had done. The hounds yelped somewhere in the distance and I continued on my way. What had I done? 

Shakespeare Quote of the Day

"What 's gone and what 's past help should be past grief"
-The Winter's Tale

Frown

The sky has a frown
Plastered on its grey slate face
Rain is coming soon

Shakespeare Quote of the Day

"It is in us to plant thine honour where
We please to have it grow"
-All's Well That Ends Well

You Don't Know

You don't know
That I go to bed with crystal tears in my eyes
They glisten in the feeble light of the moon
I am crying silently in fear
Fear of torment and death
Fear of those that I hold dear.
You don't know
That I wring my hands under the table from nervousness
Folding my fingers and squeezing hard
Butterflies smashing into the walls of my stomach
You don't know because I smile at you and
Pretend I am not scared stiff
You don't know
That I have fantasies
Floating into the clouds of purple and gold
Singing and writing poetry
In my mind. Loving.
Magical.
You don't know so much about me. Yet you do
I know you can see
When you look into my eyes, you can see my happiness and pain.
My joys and sorrows.
You don't know, yet you do.