My Window

I press my face against the glass

All I see is the bitter dark

Haunted with memories I cannot forget

I am lost in the pathways within my mind.

 

A spark, a movement of something new

A shred of light in the abyss

Laughter, a sound of forgotten times

Of an innocent life once born.

 

Desire, want and need overtake my soul

A raw pain rules my body

The dark is cast in shades of grey

Florescent hues tinge my madness.

 

As it draws near, so grows the scent

Of life, of heat, of sustenance

It is all that exists in this world of madness

It is all the truth I want to know.

 

The world has become a harrowing place

Of nightmares, that are real

A pain unrelenting, an emotion so cruel

I no longer recognise myself.

 

No, don’t stop outside my window

No, don’t try to peer inside

Don’t cup your hand around your eyes

For all you will see is lies.

 

Pass by, I plead with unspoken words

Yet I know you will ignore them

Curiosity, is a fatal flaw

When dealing with the likes of me.

 

Yes, come, step closer and give me your scent

And I will draw you into my body

For you are unique in a marvellous way

A soul gift wrapped in memories.

 

I can taste you now on the tip of my tongue

Sweet and sour, so enticing

The warmth of your life wraps around my dead heart

And I drown in your emotions.

 

The deed is done, my needs are met

The night beckons me forward

I no longer cringe from the faces around me

I stand just as human as they.

 

I’m well aware of this fleeting moment

Given to me at such cost

To experience a painless existence

Where my soul is not overwhelmed with greed.

 

The light of the sun begins long before

The night has finished its duty

I huddle once more, in the darkness of shadows

While life slips away from my fingers.

 

I will remember that moment, for the rest of my living

Your eyes as they searched the darkness

I will remember that moment, for the rest of my living

Your soul as I drank it dry.

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In my dreams……

Shadows dance across the wall2016-07-05 dragon 095

Dark tones of plum and grey

Curtains flutter in the wind

Ghosts dancing on a string

The scent of sweet frangipanis

From flowers hidden by night

Birds call out with their mournful cries

The air is alive with sound

Nervousness taps that spot in your head

Fear from what is unknown

A scrap against a metal roof

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Red eyes explode in the blackness

Panic grips the heart and twists

In the dead of night it listens

To the dreams inside your head

Waiting for that moment when

Your thoughts no longer make sense

Reality blurs, impossibility rules

And you sleep in the arms of a dragon…..

 

The Blank Page

The heart beats

The eyes wander2016-07-05-dragon-054

Still the vision

Will not come

 

What have I done

To be treated as such?

Dismissed and

Forgotten by you?

 

I supported you

I caressed you

I’ve given you

All but my life

 

And still you

Ignore the very

Being of me

Discarded and torn

 

Where are you

My muse?

My soul?2016-07-05-dragon-068

My friend?

 

The blank page

Sits before me

As empty as

My thoughts

 

A terrible thing

A voice

In my soul

Screams

 

A flicker of

Light in the

Darkness2016-07-05-dragon-056

A flutter of nerves

 

There you are

Hidden behind

The curtain

Of doubt

 

Don’t leave me

I scream in

The blankness

Of my mind

 

An exhalation

Of breath

Cinnamon and spice

Nasty and nice2016-07-05-dragon-044

 

A flicker

A thought

An image

Then words……

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Silvery Dreams

White silver scales2016-07-05-dragon-030

Of Iridescent hues

Fragile wings

To ride the heavens.

Your red fiery

Eyes turn to me

And I wait

With heavy expectations.

Will I be friend?

Or will I be foe?

No sound is uttered2016-07-05-dragon-002

Yet I know the truth

It lies within the

Beat of my heart.

With strength

I wait for the

Challengers that come

And know you

Wait beside me.

 

Silvery dreams

Not all is at it seems

Let me bask in this moment of illusion.

 

The Darkness Waits

2014-01-06_port_city_night-shots71

Flesh is rotting in the dark of souls

An eye forever roving

You think you are safe in the daylight hours

A mantra you repeat to yourself

But shadows are dark in the corner it hides

With a blackness appearing solid

It waits, bidding the time

When the light of day fades as the sun sinks below the horizon

The flicker of stars and lights respond to chase away the demons

But did I not say in the corner it hides?

And those in the know feel the dreadfieldfield_night_1-1

Movement

A shadow within a dream the mind refuses to acknowledge

The unwitting stumble with an uneasy gait

Their scent and shadow mark them

A noise in the blackness

The hunt has begun

Shadows follow

Turn around

There is nothing your eyes can see

Understanding has eluded you

How perfect they hide

2010_01_30_Moon_Scape (67)Until the moment

You greet the blackness

That is death

 

Ride-on Mowers and Writing

There are water restrictions where I live. Yet, we’ve had enough rain to make tough grasses and weeds grow, but not much else. The grass has gone to seed and the stalks wave majestically in the breeze. One of my dogs has given up weaving through the grasses and will only venture out when someone has the audacity to get too close to the fence line. The other dog takes one look at the grasses taller than him, sniffs and wanders back onto the patio. The cat on the other hand is delighted. What cat wouldn’t like sneaking through the grass to pounce on an unsuspecting leaf blowing in the breeze? He’s traded down from mice; he isn’t as nimble as he used to be. There is no escaping the fact; the yard needs to be mowed.

About two weeks ago, my husband pulled the ride on mower from the cave where it had been in hibernation.  After a little attention it was off and running. Twenty minutes later it spluttered and coughed and had to be pushed into the carport.  The cutting board was about to split in two and the engine had clogged with grass. (Short version, child, small metal object, long grass, enough said).

I am getting to the writing bit, trust me.

The cutting board was removed, and tossed in the back of the truck. The engine was unclogged, cleaned, polished and oiled. A week later, the cutting board is repaired and tinkering is required.   Success! It starts, but now there is another problem and we need a professional Tinker.

There is no doubt that at times tinkering is required to achieve one’s goal.

I look back to when I first wrote my short story. I have tinkered with it over the years. Took numerous writing courses, learnt some things, and life happened around me. I tinkered with it on and off, and the short story evolved into five novels.

With the help of my writers group (Wordwick3d coming to a website soon) my tinkering became focussed.  Throughout my journey into tinkering with words, I have made some fantastic friends, meet some fantastic authors and I’m not as hesitant to explore, share and contribute ideas anymore.

Tinkering has given me the resources to be brave enough to take that giant leap into self-publishing, with the reassurance of friends by my side.  I know my tinkering will continue to give me strength and knowledge. At this moment in the newness of being a writer, I need to tinker. Not to do so is short changing myself, and my readers, current and future.

There will come a time when I will have to call on a professional Tinker, and no doubt there will be more tinkering on my part.

However, while I know how to tinker, how does one know exactly when to stop?

Leaping

The first flush of excitement of uploading the anthology (Stories of the Dark and Light – just in case you missed it) is over, and marketing is fully underway.

The first lot of reviews are in, and we are thinking about printing on demand.

The anthology, while it showcases our writing styles and (hopefully) puts our names out there, is also a forerunner for when we eventually upload our own individual novels.  Naturally, we are experiencing a huge learning curve.

One of these curves has been editing.

We have had a few of our reviewers’ point out our editing needs to be more polished.  To those reviewers – thank you.  It is only through information from our readers, can we hope to correct problems in our writing.

Which brings me to a recent blog by Jay Colby  In his blog he discusses learning from failure.  While I don’t consider we have failed our readers per say, if we can improve our editing then we should.  How else can we better our craft?

Barb and I met at a wonderful coffee shop that allowed us to sit at a booth for most of the day, and we went over our short stories with a red pen in my case and a blue pen and highlighter for Barb. The aim was to smooth out the creases. Before I go any further, I would like to mention Kay, Barb, Khalen and myself poured over the manuscript many times. Other people outside our group read the stories as well.  However, we could have done more and that was what the day was about.

We must have looked a sight Barb and I, sitting side my side, muttering in unison as we read one and half stories (we ran out of time – we were only there six hours). There was much discussion, sporadic moments of pen wielding, coffees and hot chocolate.

In that time, we learnt a lot. Where we thought we had it right before, suddenly wasn’t when we both read it. Where we thought we didn’t or did need a punctuation mark, it was discussed and analysed.  Rough edges were smoothed, and the writing flowed easier.  So how did we not pick up these, (I won’t call them errors or mistakes, as they weren’t really) – inconsistencies perhaps, before we uploaded?

Were we in too much of a hurry? No, I don’t think so. As I mentioned earlier, many upon many hours were spent pouring over the manuscript.  I think it is simpler than that.  Even though it has only been a month since uploading, in fact, it has probably been two months since we last edited and proof read.    While the manuscript may be unchanged, we, as a group and individually have continued to change. By interacting with other groups, attending more workshops, and paying attention to reviews on other books we have read, we are growing.

By taking that leap into uploading, we forced ourselves into reality.   Through this, we gained a clearer understanding of the intricacies writing involves.  We have grown, and with our readers by our side, we will continue to grow.

Here’s to taking more leaps with our writing.