Monthly Archives: February 2019

Sue Vincent’s Thursday photo prompt #Writephoto #Ritual


Long Meg  stood alone,

where had all the dancers gone,

no posy to hold,

just one solitary tear

rolled slowly down her cold cheek


Filed under As you read it, faith, Inspired by fable, Old knowledge, On the lines of romance, Otherworldly, Self compositions, Tanka


This really made me think, with some helpful suggestions

Camillea Reads

One of the toughest things for me as a writer was learning how to outline my novel. To be honest I was the most terrible of terribles; I would fill page after page of characters doing the weirdest shit and never got anywhere with my plot. At some point, a plot device would pop up only to disappear, or a character would find themselves nose diving into circumstances they would never have even considered.

It was simple frustration that finally drove me to outline. I had zero clue how to work out my plot. Half of my writing involved me wanting to fun which just turned into a big disaster of NOT FUN.

Outlining is not as tedious as people make it out to be. Sure, it’s a LOT of thinking and confronting your character’s deepest and most embarrassing secrets but it’s also 15% dark chocolate and 70% coffee.


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MLMM’s menagerie #Heeding Haiku With Chèvrefeuille, February 20th 2019, hurricane


Wind-blown white mustangs

madly dash dark foam-flecked flanks.

Sodden spars stand strong.


Filed under Haiku, nature inspired, On the lines of romance, Otherworldly, Self compositions

Crimson’s Creative Challenge #15


A beautiful pixie from Gaul

chose this dress to go to the ball

there were no requests for a dance

or a hint of romance

for green goes with nothing at all.


Filed under As you read it, nature inspired, Otherworldly, Self compositions, Singalong, Whimsical

Mortuary mine

Gaze upon the beauty to be found in these 50 shades of grave.

Thru Violet's Lentz

Left perched upon a parapet, this mortuary mine.

I weep Poseidon’s saline tears, ‘neath a somber scudding sky.

As moisture inundated clouds, exhale Sedna’s plankton perfumed breath.

And agitated arctic gales, pass o’re her frozen lips.

Left anchored in abandon, aloft this landlocked marginof death.

Inflicted fallen fortress turned, skeletal black crows nest.


Posted for Girlie on the Edge’s Blog Six Sentence Story, cue word Perch.

Following Clark’s lead from a couple of weeks back and taking a poetic turn on the prompt, I made what I consider much better use of a line idea I first used in another poem I called Despised Conundrum.

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Colleen’s 2019 Weekly #Tanka Tuesday #Poetry Challenge No. 124 #SynonymsOnly – Game & Trouble #Tanka

p-challenge-header (1)

Around the table

the Olympians gathered,

Zeus took up the dice,

to them ‘‘t’was just  a pastime,

for Troy it could mean peril.



Filed under Alternative history, Factual, Inspired by fable, Self compositions, Tanka, Uncategorized

I Write Her Weekly Haiku Challenge #6 #haiku

stark limbs

Silhouetted limbs

pierce the blood-stained bandage sky

on dark horizons

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Filed under Haiku, nature inspired, Otherworldly, Self compositions

RonovanWrites #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge #241 Storm&Fierce


Lo’ the storm cometh,

intoned the one with fierce eyes.

No one turned away.



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Filed under dystopian view, Haiku, Self compositions

Ten word photo prompt #Release

19ECDCAB-5319-4CCB-BBFE-40BF49F9A289Pandora watched as the glowing orbs  rose from the jar


Filed under Alternative history, As you read it, Flash fiction, Inspired by fable, On the lines of romance, Self compositions

Sue Vincent’s #Thursdayphotoprompt #Writephoto


Near the top they stopped. The sun was dropping rapidly in the Western sky. As if lost in their own thoughts there was no need for words. Each knew that the other was thinking of the days to come. It was deserted now but tomorrow this sacred place would be crowded with people; men, women, children, friends, relatives, all gathered for the last farewell. Nyruda had passed, her body was laid on the bier ready for the ceremonial transition.

At sunrise a procession would wend it’s way from the village to this rock, “The seat of the winds,” with their light load borne on the shoulders of six men, while the monks, women and children followed. There would be chanting, age-old mantras sung in a low drone, while the incense-burners twirled and their fragrance drifted over the plain at the whim of the breeze. It was not a lament but a celebration of one stage of her old life completed in preparation for the new.

A breeze was starting, exposing its presence with a twitch of Gana’s sleeve. In the distance he heard the lone cry of the lammergeier. He smiled, recognising the significance of the call, as if in reassurance that the wild eagles knew they were soon to be summoned and would be ready to help in the sacred task.

Tomorrow there would be many, wheeling and turning, carried high on the updrafts as they circled in readiness for their feast. The flesh would be stripped from the body leaving the white bones exposed. They would not be left long. The more experienced avian attendants would climb high in the sky their bills stuffed and ungainly with stiff, long, bristled moustaches.  Like sharp but muffled drumbeats the sound of bones dropping on to the stones below would reassure the departing flock that the ceremony was being fulfilled. It would not be many days before the larger bones could be discreetly removed in accordance with their traditions ready for the final stage. Life would go on.


Filed under As you read it, faith, Flash fiction, nature inspired, Old knowledge, On the lines of romance, Self compositions