Saturday, October 24, 2015
Monday, September 7, 2015
While the adage is true,
good fences make good neighbors
don't forget the gate.
For Magpie Tales, carried across the Atlantic.
*The adage is, of course, from Robert Frost's poem Mending Wall.
Sunday, September 6, 2015
Thursday, September 3, 2015
Sunday, August 30, 2015
Sunday, August 23, 2015
Thursday, August 20, 2015
Sunday, August 16, 2015
Sunday, August 2, 2015
The marbled world, blue and new
Sunday, July 26, 2015
Over at the Imaginary Garden Margaret asked us to "play it again" with a previous prompt. I chose a form called anEtheree, an unrhymed syllable counting form, beginning with a first line of one syllable, and continue for ten lines increasing the syllable count by one each line, as follows: 1/2/3/4/5/6/7/8/9/10. The image is from Tess Kincaid at Magpie Tales and is also posted there. Please follow the links to both of these outstanding writing sites.
Monday, July 20, 2015
On Receiving Orphaned Kittens (or How Not Being Able to Say NO Can Lead to Becoming a Crazy Cat Lady)
Sunday, July 5, 2015
In my dreams
when shadows draw long
Over in the Imaginary Garden we are challenged to write 55 words, PLUS, if we choose, to use this image of Beta Beatrix by Dante Gabriel Rossetti, which I did. We could also use the words of Canto 17 by Dante Alirghieri.
Monday, June 15, 2015
Thursday, April 30, 2015
Friday, April 24, 2015
That's my advice
for as long as you live.
and sings of things that never were, and that will never be.
I’m smitten with the music that he warbles sweet and clear.
He’s in the treetops high above, and yet he sounds so near;
and if I close my eyes and rest
I feel wings flutter in my chest
and magic places far away in space and time seem near,
like they’re more real than my home, and what’s around me here.
Princes bright and dragons bold fight battles round my bed,
and giant ogres want to grind my bones to make their bread.
Witches cackle, donkeys bray and cats wear leather boots,
Children run through forests, and play tunes on magic flutes.
Then knights and trolls and goats come out to skip across the floor,
and Irish women selling clams clap hands and call for more.
So bears and pigs and wolves join paws and dance ‘round in a ring,
and mermaids swim up to the shore to hear the sirens sing.
Old men grow young, and strong and straight,
whilst black birds argue and debate.
And it does not seem strange to me; I do not feel perplexed.
I shake my head and laugh and wait, to see what happens next.
Then the moon smiles down at me and asks me to come swim.
The stars agree. ”The air is fine,” they say, “so come on in.”
I dip my toe into the sky, and it does feel just right
and so I close my eyes and dive head-long in to the night.
Thursday, April 23, 2015
Over in the Imaginary Garden Karin has asked us to write about some aspect of "last" and/or "legs". I really couldn't think of anything, so I did what I usually do in such situations - I went for absurd, gross, adolescent humor. Really, that's all I could come up with, so apologies to Karen and the rest of the toads.
Wednesday, April 22, 2015
Monday, April 20, 2015
Saturday, April 18, 2015
In the Imaginary Garden we have been asked to use a quote from either Leonard Nimoy or Sir Terry Pratchett as a jumping off point to inspire our writing. I have used a quote from Sir Terry. While I adore his humor and satire I didn't that direction with this. Perhaps another time... RIP to Terry Pratchett and Leonard Nimoy. The the world is a bit bleaker and weaker without you.
Friday, April 17, 2015
Thursday, April 16, 2015
Wednesday, April 15, 2015
or a proper foundation.