This week I have started to take part in Jenny Matlock’s Alphabe Thursday. The focus is to use the letter T, so I have written a poem about thoughts, as that is what literally came to mind first!
Thoughts can be cruel, from the darkest of places,
Thoughts can be kind, with a smile and a wink.
Thoughts will show anger on the calmest faces,
Thoughts can appear when we try not to think.
Thoughts are of family, friends and our peers,
Thoughts take us back to a place once we were.
Thoughts are provoking and bring out the tears,
Thoughts crammed with love when you’re thinking of her.
Thoughts fill our days from the time we awake,
Thoughts make us happy and filled with success.
Thoughts can inspire from which we may take,
Thoughts are our goals, aspirations, no less.
For this week’s Photo Challenge, Tara at Sticky Fingers has set us the challenge of At Peace. This is something that I rarely find in its purest form, but when I go sea fishing I always seem to be able to escape and lose myself. This is a photo looking down the Bristol Channel from Clevedon Pier and I just managed to catch the sunset on my phone. I love this view.
This week’s challenge is even more clever and challenging. Last week at Julia’s Place we were given the prompt ….‘What was the rabbit late for,’ wondered Alice….. to which we were invited to write the usual 100 words plus the prompt. However, the twist was that the writing produced last week would influence this week’s 100wgcu. Dutifully I checked out the entry after mine and found the prompt to be Shrouded in magic that hides itself from unknown human beings. Breaking away from my usual poetry slant, this is my first venture into creative writing.
Lost in the Mist
Over the wireless came the forecast, warm with thundery outbursts throughout the day.
Jim gave a wry smile as he organised pots to the aft of the ‘Jenny Marie’ For twenty years he’d been Deckhand and this day in the North Atlantic was important. It has been a lean season and the crab had eluded them thus far.
With a pertinent superstition he murmured to himself, lowering the pots into the icy brine. As he did the engines stalled and with a ghostly silence the ‘Jenny Marie’ began drifting into a misty void. Shrouded in magic that hides itself from unknown human beings, the Bermuda Triangle had its latest victim.
This seems like a great idea to have fun with and be involved in. Tara at Sticky Fingers Blog provides a prompt each week for readers to use as their inspiration and photograph in their own way. As I am new to this, I just popped out to the garden to look for inspiration and this little chap seemed appropriate!
This is my latest offering for the 100 word challenge for grown ups, details of which are here. This week’s prompt is ….‘What was the rabbit late for,’ wondered Alice…..
Once again, I have tried to create a simple piece of poetry and I am finding the challenge of writing creatively really quite rewarding. Nothing like using our brain for something other than school planning once a week! There are many more creative entries at Julia’s Place, but here is mine:
The train pulled in, one minute late,
When off stepped Alice; perfect gait.
To her surprise she looked around,
And saw before her on the ground.
The strangest sight before her eyes,
A beast of every shape and size.
Wearing sharp suits and power dressed,
Determined they should look their best.
Briefcase in hand, the tiger sped,
The zebra in her flash of red.
Spotty leopard checks the time,
As up the long stairs meerkat climbs.
Through the entrance with a pace,
Comes tall white rabbit, stony faced.
A blink and he is gone again,
The station clock sounds loudly ten.
‘What was rabbit late for’, wondered Alice…
This is my first attempt at creative writing in the online 100 word challenge, details of which are here. This week’s prompt in the 100 word challenge for adults is ‘…the red box…’. There are many more creative entries at Julia’s Place.
My aim is to improve my own creative writing and inspire my class.
Within the red box, there’s a secret to hide,
Of a troublesome past, a turning of tide.
A small folded parchment all crumpled and torn,
Recalling dark deeds and a spirit reborn.
Soft blotted ink, tracing routes across lands,
And the smeared oily prints of a smugglers hands.
Lay down the remains of a cursed search for gold,
Pointing only to desperate stories untold.
Where greed turned to fear in the blink of an eye,
As the ghost of Tall Island resounded his sigh.
To all who approached but never returned,
With the map that survived and now should be burned.