Feeling the Tension

Image from WikiCommons, taken by Agency for Inspection and Restoration of Monuments of Moldove and used under the Creative Commons Agreement

Your monuments, what do they mean?

Build your stone high and shout your deity.

Hope that the stone outlasts the age

Hold tight to written, lawful piety

And when the old roots wrack your faith

When the cold moon bites and rags your mind

How do you hold on to the bitter dregs?

How do you slip into your role assigned?

Old shadows creep and stretch before your feet

Old lanes and lines cross across your path

You’re happy to bask in summer’s generous warmth

Are you willing to take the lash of winter’s wrath?

Look at the stone path, that’s where you tread,

Turning away to turfed green paths that roam.

Is it because your faith outlasts the stone?

Or do you listen when your soul hears home?

Exit

From an awesome prompt by Our Write Side

Image from WikiCommons, taken by Tony Webster and used under the Creative Commons Agreement

You tell me that he's wrong for me,

You say it will not last.

You point me to the exit sign.

I smile and walk straight past.

Perspective

Another response to an amazing prompt from Our Write Side with an amazing image taken by Tara Roberts

I look around, my mind is filled

With pots and cloths and clothes and things

The clutter that comes in bags from school

The scattered stuff the postman brings

A sock hangs off the angled chair

A cup is perched right on the edge

Fingerprints on walls abound

Cat fur lines the window ledge

But if you walk across the park

And head towards the underpass

Ignore the coloured painted tags

Step round the routine broken glass

Look up, a square of pristine sky,

Windwashed leaves are dancing free,

Nothing besides, that’s all I want

The sky, the leaves and, down here, me. 

As It Should Be

This image is copyright tlroberts and is the prompt from Our Write Side Darkroom prompt.  Tara Roberts has some awesome photography and you should check it out!

Tell me again, about the fight

And how you fought it to the damnation

See me writing how you fought the fight

And I look on and nod in admiration.

Hey, look at you, I lean in closer

You fought the fight and here I am admiring

You are the destiny, I just cook the meals

You come home to a hero’s welcome

And as I scurry round to find the feast

And wonder whether the wine will last the night

Tell me again about the fight

And I’ll make sure an audience awaits.

I do a thousand thousand tiny works,

I find your shield and shirt and sword

And lay in preparations for your feast

And wonder if I’ve done enough

So here you are, hero and warrior wild

And I am grateful that you stoop to me.

You are the centre of the bardic tales

And I, peripheral, will worship thee. 

Dinner at Dark

Giddy, giddy, giddy, giddy....

Here it is, a short story by yours truly where housekeeping meets horror story. 

For the first time ever I've paid for a professional cover, provided by the amazing Melissa Alvarez at BookCovers.Us  I am so giddy about it! 

The story is available at Smashwords here, Amazon here, and will be shortly available at all good ebook retailers.  It is only a short story so I have kept the price low. 

All feedback gratefully recieved.

Sea God Calling

I have combined the prompts from Studio30 and The Darkroom and came up with this poem.  Do have a look at the prompt sites if you feel like getting involved in writing.  They can be very helpful.

He stood between the land and sea.

He cocked his head and beckoned me.

I shook my head, ‘You let me be.

You’ll get no power over me.’

His hair waved dark, his eyes sparked blue.

He raised his hand and the cold wind blew.

‘I will not bow nor bend the knee,

You’ll get no power over me’

Strong he stood, the clouds hung low.

I wanted him but dare not go.

‘A mortal woman’s not for thee,

You’ll get no power over me.’

The waves dashed high where the sea god stood.

I bit my lip and I tasted blood.

I wanted him, ‘You let me be,

I’ll give no power over me.’

He beckoned me, I felt the call,

The sun shone warm on the sea god tall.

I whispered, ‘Do not call to me,

I daren’t give power over me.’

He strode across the warming sand

And knelt to gently kiss my hand.

‘Lady, at your whim I be

You have love’s power over me.’

Job

I've dipped into another Writing Challenge from Our Write Side - have a look and perhaps have a go!  I took a lot of inspiration from the picture as well as the word.  

           Joe met Diane outside her work.  “I’ve got a great deal,” He told his wife.  “Liam down the road let me have the timber he had stacked for a really low price – half what I would pay in the store.  He told me it would be perfect for a garden shed, all drilled and ready to go.  I can’t wait to get started.”

“Good luck with that job.” Diane sighed.  She knew Joe’s love of a bargain.  He fell for the sales talk every time.  “We haven’t got a garden.”