For a Moment

Lying down on my lawn chair
Past midnight.
A candle on the table my main source of light
Serenaded by the cricket orchestra
(It really needs a little something extra, it’s rather monotonous)

Feeling the damp settle on my exposed skin
I gaze up at the stars
Electrical wire in the way
Thinking I should move so I can see better

But why
It’s not like I recognize anything besides the Big Dipper
and maybe Venus – Is that her?

3 gin and tonics in
I’m a tad fuzzy-minded
(and less inhibited)
So what?
I don’t work tomorrow, I’ve no responsibilities
For a moment
I fancy myself a poet
I know I’m not; I can pretend
Who cares?

I know I’m just a girl
(Can I use the term girl when I’m middle-aged?_
Yes I can because only a girl would say how I feel
As I lie here wishing
For something else
Then what is

How Does Your Garden Grow?

I miss having a garden and shall be doing one next year (promise to myself).  Till then, I finally decided to participate in yesterday’s dVerse quadrille challenge “How does your garden grow”, hosted by Victoria C. Slotto.

How does your garden grow?

It is neat and orderly

every thing placed just so

Or is it more free in style

a sort of go with the flow?

 

Willy nilly or neat rows,

does it really matter?

As long as your garden grows

 

 

What Is Real? – Crimson’s Creative Challenge #91

Welcome to Crispina‘s weekly challenge.  An idea formed, then unformed, then reformed… I did my usual search for a matching photo and came up with a couple.  Which to choose? What to write? And well, this is what you get.

“Don’t pretend to be what you’re not, instead, pretend to what you want to be, it is not pretence, it is a journey to self realization.”
Michael Bassey Johnson

I’ve been a “fake it till you make it” kinda gal for most of my life.  It sure gives people the impression I know what I’m doing or that have loads of self-confidence.  I can’t help wonder if I’m like the liar who believes his lies or if, over the years, I have been on this journey to self-realisation as quoted above.

Maybe I’m not really faking it after all.

“…I could never explain how the image and the reality merge, and how they somehow extend and beautify each other.”
― Dodie Smith, I Capture the Castle

 

Flashes

Would you look at that! This week’s Friday Fictioneers is a repeat and actually one that I participated in back on April 10, 2015. I thought that I would not play but a new thought popped in my head and here I am. Thank you, Miss Vacationer, Rochelle, for hosting this party even while you are playing on the beach. If you are so inspired, click on the frog below and add your own 100-word story!

©Jennifer Pendergast

Flashes

Sitting on my porch, I watch the freight train pass by at top speed. Time that went so slow as I was living it has now blurred into a speed impossible.

Between each boxcar, a scene from my life flashes, proving a lifetime of memories is but a blip on the whole. Playing tag in the park, necking in the backseat of a car, celebrations of weddings, births and deaths of loved ones; each memory is given the same allotment in time.

More cars are ahead than are behind now, and I realise that it is so, too, for me.

Weekend Writing Prompt #168 – Peristeronic

A word prompt to get your creativity flowing this weekend. How you use the prompt is up to you. Write a piece of flash fiction, a poem, a chapter for your novel…anything you like. Or take the challenge below – there are no prizes – it’s not a competition but rather a fun writing exercise. If you want to share what you come up with, please leave a link to it in the comments. Seriously, Sammi, you trying to kill us this week? Talk about giving us a challenge!

Have you noticed that young women today have taken on a particularly peristeronic characteristic?

How do you mean? Not sure they’d like to be compared to pigeons, mind.

Then they shouldn’t stand there knock-kneed and pigeon-toed!

Hah! Yet another stupid trend brought to us by Gwynnie, to make them appear younger and thinner.

How Did I Become a Prompt Queen?

I went to a French high school.  We didn’t do things like the Prom Queen and King. Come to think of it, I wonder if any of the English schools in Quebec did?  Maybe it’s just an American thing. I honestly don’t know and frankly, don’t feel like looking it up because, in the grand scheme of things, it means diddly-squat.  Prompt Queen? Now that’s a different story.

Somehow any writing I have done in the past few years has been a good ninety-to-ninety-five percent prompt-related.  How did this happen? Is this a bad thing or a good thing?  Or a nothing to even waste my energies on?  I know I am far from alone.  Many bloggers only write prompt-induced posts. And that is a fine thing.  It has helped me work on my writing chops, I think.  Plus, when it comes to creativity, I need a nudge.

I take a pause in writing to think about this, and what my point shall be while I make myself a coffee,

Random shot of coffee

then get side-tracked by catching up on my daily blog reading, check my emails, and I land on my horoscope.  Coz yeah, I receive it daily, even though I don’t buy what they’re selling.  However, it is ironic that today’s says this:

07.30.2020

You may find yourself asking some major life questions today, Aries. Thoughtful Mercury finds itself opposed to grandiose Jupiter, asking you to ask whether you have all of the tools you need for the career you wish to create for yourself. You may find yourself revisiting educational or travel plans today. A positive sense of optimism permeates the day, lending support and strength to your questioning.

Okay, so why I write what I write is not a “major life question” but it is one of the questions I’ve been posing myself lately, and the only one I shall tackle at this time because it does affect how I spend some of my time.  Time that suddenly became plentiful, yet ill-used.  Since March, our lives, the world over, have been turned upside-down, sideways and inside out in a manner none of could ever have imagined.  Now that we are almost half a year into this (Seriously?!?!) we still can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel.  How are we spending this time?  Everyone has seen some kind of change in their schedule.  Some barely had a break as they went from working in an office to working from home (and are working up to 20% more than before), some went from working days to working overnight, many of us lost our jobs, some were/are on hold, waiting, convinced they will be able to return to their former jobs at some time (though less and less a probability) and some, like me, have managed to find new jobs.  A first, it seemed this no working thing would be the perfect time to tackle projects! Um. No. I couldn’t justify it as projects require money which is no longer coming in, or at least, not with the same flow.  Many took up baking and cooking and gardening.  And reading. And writing.

Because flowers are pretty even when they are straggly

Many bloggers went to town. Suddenly the once, twice or thrice-weekly bloggers became daily bloggers. The multi-posters wrote even more.  My inbox overflowed.  (I hate using the Reader though I swear I am contemplating moving to it so that my overwhelm doesn’t send me to the looney-bin.)

I know I have a point to all this.  Oh yes. Prompts.  I don’t know how I went from Friday Fictioneers to also participating in Crimson’s Creative Challenge, Weekend Writing Prompt and an occasional dVerse.  I don’t like to post more than once per day and I’m not a daily blogger, either.  I often would find myself wanting to write about something and then thinking, oh no, it’s Wednesday, that’s when I do FF and then I can’t write it on Thursday because that’s when I do CCC and then it’s too late because that feeling has passed.  Just so you know, there is no obligation for me to write FF on Wednesdays nor CCC on Thursdays. It is all self-imposed.  The reason I do this is it gives me a chance to read everyone else’s story/poem, whatevs… because. There is the rub. I’m an excellent participant and reciprocator. But it is as time-consuming AF to read and comment on 65 other 100-word stories. And I do. Mostly. I have since cut back on those who don’t even acknowledge my comment – after a few weeks of nothing, I drop them. Got better things to do with my time. And there are those who never visit mine. (And that’s okay, too. Just don’t expect me to go to yours after a while, either.)  That’s what blogging is.

The swirls of the clouds resemble my thoughts

So what about those blogs I follow (and love) and read outside of these prompts? I feel so bad when fellow bloggers read me and I find myself three posts behind on theirs.  How much time per day is a person supposed to sit on their ass reading and commenting on blogs?  I swear I must read a novel’s worth per day.  When can I sit on my ass and read a book?  Because, frankly, after reading off the computer for 3-4 hours (if not more) I no longer feel like picking up a book.

That’s a helluva detour to my point, isn’t it?  Maybe that’s why I do these prompts. They force me to keep myself brief as none of them are longer than 150 words. 😉 They have and will continue to serve their purpose as they push my creativity to write different things.  And I think my writing has improved because of these challenges so no, I am not giving them up.  I am, however, going to cherry-pick from now on because for me it is important, when participating in a challenge, to participate.  I’m not a write-and-run kinda gal.

Back in February 2016, Eric Tonningson, Awakening to Awareness (a coach, speaker, writer, blogger I admire) commented with:  “Hey, where are those thoughtful Dale posts??? All I’m seeing in my WP Reader is Friday Fictioneer stuff. 🙂”.  I haven’t heard from him since this time, last year, but his words have been swirling in my head lately.

What would he say now?  He’d probably nod his head in agreement.

I have now seen the light.  I officially demote myself from Prompt Queen to Prompt Baroness.

Apologies. I understand if it was TL:DR

Weekend Writing Prompt #167 – Nuance

Had been hoping to squeeze this into my weekend during work hours but that was not meant to be. Sometimes you just can’t create, even in the ebbs of the regular flow.

A word prompt to get your creativity flowing this weekend. How you use the prompt is up to you. Write a piece of flash fiction, a poem, a chapter for your novel…anything you like. Or take the challenge below – there are no prizes – it’s not a competition but rather a fun writing exercise. If you want to share what you come up with, please leave a link to it in the comments.  Click on the box below to join in on Sammi’s challenge or read other takes on this wonderful word.

 

Simple beauty painting the sky

in subtle and nuanced palette

the softest of violets and blues

morphing into brighter pinks and oranges

reminiscent

of love’s journey, where

A chance encounter turns into a friendship

Grows

Glows

into love

 

Searching For My Inner Artist – Friday Fictioneers

Good Wednesday afternoon! It’s a gorgeous, not too hot and sticky day here in the Montreal area. So sorry for those of you in the stinkin’ hot States right now. Sending out good vibes that this heat abates soon. Till then, how about a little silly Friday Fictioneer story, hosted by our illustrious leader, who also supplied her own photo, Rochelle. Better yet, how’s about you add your own little 100-word story to go with? Yeah? Click on the frog below and add your link. Easy-peasy!

©Rochelle Wisoff(no-e)-Fields

Come paint with us!

Searching For My Inner Artist

What’s all this?

Searching for my inner artist. Figuring my father must have given me a smidgeon of his artistic genes.

You can’t even draw stickmen, why would you think you can paint?

Dunno. I feel this might be a medium I could play with. More abstract, yanno? Doesn’t have to be so precise and detailed.

That’s the case with all types of paints, by the way. And it’s not as easy as it looks.

I know I am no Rochelle, Monika or Louise, but can’t hurt to try?

Why not stick to photography? It IS an art form, too…

Revelation

I decided to participate in yesterday’s prosery for dVerse in which Lillian asks us to use one of two lines in Carl Sandburg’s Jazz Fantasia. My text has absolutely nothing to do with his fabulous poem. I chose “Moan like an autumn wind high in the lonesome treetops”. I did write it last night, then decided to wait until today to post, feeling it needed more fine-tuning.  Needless to say, I played with it so much, I fear I buggered it up completely. Or maybe not.  I’m putting it out there anyway!

I hike, breathing in the clean, crisp mountain air, revelling in my sense of being, as they say, one with nature.  I wonder why I don’t allow myself to do this more often.  To just be.  To occasionally let go of all the musts, shoulds and needs that seem to take over everyday life.  Why do we do that?  Why don’t we take the time for ourselves?  I know I was not taught to put myself last.  Our family did not do this type of teaching, despite many hours of discussing pretty much everything.

I often read of people saying their parent taught them this lesson or that. I don’t. I sometimes wonder if I was simply not paying attention.  Before I know it, I moan like an autumn wind high in the lonesome treetops, then howl, releasing restrictions I now know were self-imposed.

 

Weekend Writing Prompt #166 – Hinterland

A word prompt to get your creativity flowing this weekend. How you use the prompt is up to you. Write a piece of flash fiction, a poem, a chapter for your novel…anything you like. Or take the challenge below – there are no prizes – it’s not a competition but rather a fun writing exercise. If you want to share what you come up with, please leave a link to it in the comments. Thank you, Sammi for hosting this prompt.

I’m booked for my next adventure.

Again? Don’t you ever stay home?

Course I do. While I’m at school!

Hah! You do seem to leave at every chance you get.

What can I say? Now is the time to do this. Who knows what life will bring me once I’m a working stiff.

That’s true. Take advantage of your youth and freedom. I sure wish I had when I was your age. To go deep into a country’s hinterland. Sigh.

Yanno, nothing’s holding you back now.