touch becomes flawed
touch becomes flawed
Autumn Springs from Summer’s Flame,
Eternal Passage of Season’s Change,
Dance of Passion’s Lingering Game,
Viridian for Copper, Elemental Exchange.
Primordial instincts embrace epic hues,
Fantasy’s Utopia, view Wisps becoming Brides,
Delphian Fairwell Fairies mimic and muse,
Rousing Shadows and Lovers, crimsons collide.
Pageant of Nighttide, Shimmering Bright,
Secrets Whispered in Primeval Tones,
Gathering Luminous, Spectral Light,
Ethereal Queen Born from muttering crone.
Dauntless Coppice, pursuing nature’s virgin Sprite,
Baptized, Nocturnal King of Twilight’s Beasts,
Queen Dowager awaits Autumn’s marital rites,
Mystic humming, via Motley winds due East.
Dance upon the Darling Midnight,
Twirl amidst the Foliage Aflame,
King and Queen Bedecked in Mirth’s Light,
Escaping Summer’s Clasp, Ne’er to be the Same.
Brilliance sparkling over Celestial skies
Approval granted, Russet Harvest’s grace
Verdict trumpeted, Change of Seasons, shall advise
Regal first kiss, as accompanying Timbers embrace
Spectrum’s Flame of Autumnal Dawn,
Seasons Shift, like Willows Bend,
Dancing Tatiana and Bold Oberon,
In Sweetest Union without End.
Fate’s Tale whirls on Heliotrope dreams,
Epic dance, adorning Violaceous Wings,
Crisp winds commence, Folklore sings,
Fantasy lives within Autumn Springs.
This is the final verse, inspired by Morgan’s seventh verse in a week long Autumn, Halloween, seasonal change, Mystical, light and dark collaboration with Morgan, from http://booknvolume.com/ .
I do hope you enjoyed Autumn Springs, my friends. I was honored when Morgan asked me to consider collaborating with her. Morgan’s extremely talented and it has been my privilege to write with her. I’ve grown as a poet and tried a theme I hadn’t considered previously. A huge thank you to Morgan for her patience, as well, as I tried keeping up with her enormous talent. Another bonus was getting to know a remarkable woman, a little bit better, over the last week.
I hope, if you hadn’t been following Morgan’s work, that you have decided to follow her poetry now. Become lost in her world of fantasy. I know I do. Love and many hugs, dear Morgan. You’re the best! Thanks again for for a fantastic week of writing.
Top photo by: Lilla Marton
Bottom photo by: Josephine Wall *
Yes, you found it,
This is the road,
The one that’ll take me home.
With a heart for rock-n-roll.
Listening to your music,
Takes me there again,
Dark rooms with neon lights.
Strings that soothe,
The tremors at night.
Being swept away to a beat,
Fuels a passion inside me.
Drinks which prove,
A bleeding heart,
Will do just about anything.
Dance with you and with him,
Either way I lose myself with them.
This time I’m wiser,
I know what I want.
On the dance floor.
To a higher power.
With swift awakenings.
Wrap me in your lyrics,
Teach me with your strings,
Allowing, your lead.
Come with me
May take two
See beyond the water
Within the stone
A dark black hole
Somewhere to be alone
Could we go
Tis an adventure
Filled with surprise
Searching for answers
Many about life
Loads of lessons
The other side, amazing
Better for the journey
A thrilling ride
However, option number two
I think so
Allowing us to breathe
I feel you touching me
Over and over again
Across my breast
My fingers lingering
On your chest
Yours upon my jaw
Minds losing a battle
Bodies answering a call
Falling into you
My hip feeling the heat
Our needs will decide
Awakens from inside
Deep dark cave
Knows what we crave
The release of feelings
Of my affection
Does that bother you
Maybe a piece of meat
A cabana boy, too
Keep shining through
All because of you
Character writing today
You always take the bait
No one else will do, my muse
Fantasy or truth doesn’t matter
What my mind does for you
Oh, you would be flattered
Happy Friday, my friends! Hope this brings a smile to your faces. I’m a giggly this morning, for sure. Hugs and much love. Enjoy your day!
I was asked to be part of this week’s Writing Process Blog Tour by Sharon Bonin-Pratt. Under a simple description of being “Sparked by Words” she takes us through her writing process. Shari’s blog is everything sparked by words could possibly mean. She nominated Jacqui, Ilene and myself to share our writing process this week. I learned a lot by reading Shari’s post. Please, give yourself some time and read her blog. She truly has something to share.
When Shari asked me to participate, I simply lowered my eyes, nodded in agreement and said, “Yes, Ma’am.” I knew Shari and I would be friends early on. Shortly after reading that she and her husband live in a eucalyptus forest in Southern California, I thought, “There is such a place? Too cool.” Shari, one of my very first followers, has sat beside me through my first year of blogging as a true supporter. She is a friend, I thank her for believing in me, and for trusting that I have valuable experience worth sharing within our community.
Now, for the record, y’all, we’re about to read more words in one post than I’ve written in six months on Oldest Daughter & Red Headed Sister. I hope you make it to the bottom. Anything more than a hundred words is pushing it for my faithful crew, as I’ve trained them to believe that I am now a reflective poet. One who doesn’t have a need for this much explanation, but truth be told, I’ve loved writing this post. It’s been a nice break from 3,000 words a night for my book.
Part of this blog tour is nominating three bloggers to write a post on their own writing process. All three women accepted my nomination which delighted me, because I didn’t want to have to go begging door to door or blog to blog. I have enough desperation pouring out through my poetry. Look for individual posts by these three fantastic ladies on Monday, April 28. I chose these three women, because they have shown such amazing support, but also because they work hard to show their personal investment to their own writing journey. I can easily get behind that sort of determination. I respect their goals and encourage them to keep moving forward.
My name is Heather B. Costa and I am an aspiring writer who one day hopes to have her own book published. I only began writing seriously just over 12 months ago and it has gone from being a hobby to a way of life.
I devote as much time as I can to learning my craft and developing my skills and I am now taking my first serious steps towards achieving my goals and becoming a published author in my own right.
Aspiring novelist. Avid reader of fiction. Reviewer of books.
By day, my undercover identity is that of meek, mild-mannered legal assistant, Kate Loveton, working in the confines of a stuffy corporate law office; by night, however, I’m a super hero: Kate Loveton, Aspiring Novelist and Spinner of Tales.
My favorite words are ‘Once upon a time… ‘
Won’t you join me on my journey as I attempt to turn a hobby into something more?
I’m just a simple girl that is passionate about being relevant and making a difference in this world.
World traveler, lover of bright sunny days, experiencing cultures, good friends and conversation. I love my God and love my family.
I don’t believe that I have the Truth, but that I have a relationship with Truth and want to be closer to Him.
Canadian, born and raised in Vancouver, BC. YWAMer since 2000 and have traveled and lived all over the world –Hong Kong, China, India, Bangladesh, Nepal, Afghanistan, Turkey, Germany, Argentina, Australia and The USA.
I moved to Brazil in 2002, married an awesome “Baiano”, Daniel, and we have two adorable kiddies, Caue and Hannah.
I am certified in fitness and nutrition and conducted physical conditioning classes while working with an arts and evangelism team and schools. I am also certified in TESOL (Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages) and TEYL (Teaching English to Young Learners).
“A God Coloured Girl in a Grey World” is my blog where I write articles based on my faith, post fitness routines, recipes and other health and wellness stuff. You can also check out a bit of my music at http://www.myspace.com/stacilys
Okay, we’re half way done. Defeated yet? I can now answer the four questions that come along with the writing tour. I’m pretty wordy, so let’s just get to it.
I’m currently working on poetry, but more than that I’m working on being Audrey Dawn, the writer. Does that make sense? Are we okay with that being part of my writing process? Imagine spending years trying to be the person everyone thought you were, because it made them so happy. I put on a brave face every day and made everyone happy, happy, happy. I smiled, I laughed, I helped, I counseled, I encouraged, but I never cried, showed fear, admitted failure or said no. I’m currently working on doing everything I’ve never allowed myself to do publicly. Well, almost everything, gesh.
Releasing the control I put on myself has opened me up. It has created the poet I’ve always wanted to show. I was afraid of the emotion writing publicly would allow. The thought of people finding me too weak or sensitive has become less and less of a fear. My writing poetry, and allowing it to be read, has helped me work on myself. I have a few very loyal blogging friends who continue to push me to submit my poetry online. I am also writing a book, which I am extremely proud of at the moment. I’ve stayed quiet about my book writing. My inexperience in the writing world coupled with my lack of professional writing credentials created a fear of inferiority years ago. I can honestly say now that the voice is not winning. I feels fantastic.
I went to college to earn a degree in English, which was coupled with a creative writing emphasis, and topped off with a social science minor. What do you suppose I do with that? Live in a cardboard box reciting my poetry. I’m a few steps ahead of that actually, so I’m living the dream. Yeah, so that means I can write people well. I’ve studied them a long time. Have I allowed the writings out of my hands in order to succeed as a published author? No. This is the toxic voice in my head doing its best to discourage me. My followers have done a great job of overturning that voice this year. I am forever grateful for every word of criticism and encouragement I’ve received. My plans to prosper within the writing community has gained momentum.
The poetry I write is therapeutic. I have forgiven, loved, hated, longed, prospered, achieved, yearned and dreamed through healthy emotions, which I have had inside my soul all along. Very few I shared with anyone, because as a controller of myself, I chose to safe guard my heart from ever being let down. Sharing what I’m working on is a process I am currently battling, and winning. I think it shows through my poetry, as we all felt that fantastic love, then the desperation, and currently the recklessness of my protagonist, Amelia. I’ll be sharing my book with you soon. I can’t wait to tell you all about it.
Here I sit writing from a public library in Galveston, TX, after a rough night out on the town with friends. A quick bit of down time for me, as they do a little finishing up. Last night, a group of us ended the evening at a drag show. Yes, it was fantastically entertaining and an eye-opening experience. I was with one of my dearest friends and a few of her closest friends from college. One, of which, is trying to survive cancer. Her diagnosis is why they were all together this past weekend, and the reason they’ve been getting together every year since she was diagnosed. I began my evening humbled for being allowed inside their tight network. I watched how their communication flowed with ease. I am fully aware that it is the devotion to their friendship that has created their life long bond.
Watching them interact helped me to reflect on why I chose to start my blog, but more so, why I have switched gears and began sharing poetry. Experience, emotion and truth are what any solid friendship or relationship is built on. Correct? These are the universals to which we connect ourselves to others, I think. Consider it. The beauty of this is that we don’t even know the friendship has approached longevity, until relationship has arrived in full bloom, and we’re miles down the road of emotional investment. Then one day, we happen upon a cherished memory that proves our devotion to one another and seals our mutual bond. I write my feelings, because everything I’ve seen and read has in some way impacted my thoughts, emotions and my own life. I want to share my writing with a community of people who are investing in the writing process and in themselves .
3. How does it differ from others in the genre?
I am a performer, and I thrive on attention and feedback, but when I’m not in a crowd, I reflect a lot. I can go hours not chatting with anyone. Lost in a world of reading, writing, or visualizing its what I do. Currently, my blog differs from others of the same genre, because I am also teaching myself to be a better communicator. Truly, the only way my blog differs from others of this genre is by the timing of my emotions. One day you may identify with me wholeheartedly and feel a connection that could last a lifetime. The next day, you could hate my guts, so at best our relationship has a survival rating of about 50/50. Are you willing to take those odds? I totally am.
My writing process has always been the same few steps. Yes, I’m a creature of habit. I have a very short attention span, probably an undiagnosed ADD and dyslexic issue from childhood. As an adult, I’ve adapted very well. I attribute that to my ability to speed read. There is no other way when you’re working with a short attention span, in my opinion. Music helps me focus on my task, so headphones are a must when I need to keep from becoming distracted. There’s also something to the light pressure I feel from having them on my ears. Headphones tend to center me. Yes, it could be a gravity issue, I hadn’t thought of it. I have found myself in a writing fever only to notice that I’ve had nothing playing through my headphones for hours. Yes, this really happens.
Before I get to that euphoric writing place, I visualize by staring off into white walls, usually as I’m doing this I haven’t written anything down. What I do find myself producing is pages of doodlings. Letters, numbers, pictures, shadings of light and dark images are all found decorating my pages before my writing begins. I’ve often considered posting my doodles along with my poetry or stories just to see if anyone could enlighten me on my perfected madness. Yes, I’m completely comfortable admitting that this process of mine can’t possibly be normal. Tell me if it is, please. After about thirty minutes of warm up, my mind calms and everything I’ve held inside for the day pushes itself out.
I know, phew, that was rough. What I have found, in all seriousness, is that if I do not sit down to write everyday I become ridden with anxiety over how quickly I can clear my schedule so I can write. This is an awesome feeling inside of a dramatic setting, because I want to write and share my thoughts with you. I’ve never wanted to freely share my writing or what my mind is thinking. Not without feeling like an attraction at the zoo, anyway. My friends, this is something I would have never thought possible a year ago. My writing process is alive and well.
Another shot at a writing prompt from Mr. Don Charisma – Disapproval . Hope you enjoy! I am a bit nervous posting this one, but in true form…off the cuff it is. This will be my last poetry post until Monday. Enjoy your weekend! ~ Audrey
I see how you look me,
Disappointed in my choices,
Sad for my soul.
Dismissive of my presence,
Within these four walls.
Hoping to stir inside of me,
Desires inside of you,
Need for me to change,
My thinking, my ways.
You eye my golden cross,
Which rests upon my breast,
A true devotion for His cause.
I will battle your urges,
Which I sense,
To rip this symbol from my chest.
I am His,
He is mine,
We work together, He is Devine.
You must take yourself away now,
His power will defeat your goals.
The intensity of you watching me,
Well, it seems rather bold.
Eye for an eye, if truth be told,
His proverbs from times of old.
Mustn’t strive to make those crumble,
Christians alive and well will meet,
Swords of Glory, til you stumble.
Back to where you came from Devil
The flow of music
Whispering towards me,
Offering a slow start.
Forever in a trance,
Waiting for a crescendo,
Unknown to the Universe.
Did you notice?
I don’t miss the words,
Those that haven’t been written,
Or spoken in so long.
The beat carries on,
The deepest bass,
Like your darkest place,
Would be easy to find comfort there.
Texas beach, cool night air
Blood pouring from aching eyes
Arms wide open,
Although miles apart, I fear.
Dreaming of your piercing stare
As the notes end,
it is then,
I will weep.
Don Charisma’s Prompt – Imagine : Thanks for bit of inspiration this afternoon, DC. I may have to try to do more of these prompts. Makes creating so much easier when I have a word. I just closed my eyes and, well, here ya go WordPress Family.
Your chance, I’m offering
Or return the keys
Release what weakens me
Life full of lies
Until we share completely
Get to know me
What is left
Advancing will soothe
I grew up taking care
of those who suffered.
Who taught me?
Two sisters, brother,
mother and a father.
fights for all.
hugs when they fall.
Don’t tell me
or bloody insane.
is of happiness,
often healing me
at the end
of my day.
I tend to
when there’s no
money for simplicities.
I feed children
with no lunches,
I fix worn out clothes,
even when I don’t know how.
Trust me, these people
live in my heart.
an escape for me.
I write of love
hoping to create it
for all those who
Yes, I admit, it helps me too.
Am I confident?
Yes, I cannot help
this part of me.
Take it or leave it.
Maybe, just let me be me.
I know suffering
I feel it everyday
and my end.
I will go to my grave
trying to save them all.
I’m allowing you
to catch me when I fall.
Look me in the eye
when you’re looking
for a fight.
This girl will react.
I just might…
Visiting unsafe places
Yes, just right there
I’ve found a bridge
It’s been put there as a sign
I should walk across it
Leave the rest behind
Today, I won’t allow fate’s misdirection
I see green, it surrounds
Proof you’re here somewhere
Hoping you’ll find me
You saved me once before
With your words so loud and with flare.
When you write of love and devotion,
This lady understands wholeheartedly.
I love you
I used to believe it was my mind,
doing amazing deeds for you.
This morning clarity allows me,
to agree it is your words,
which have changed me.
Growing wild outside,
And in my mind
Remind me why,
I chose today to fly
Should I trust
I’m a small bird
In a big world,
An overwhelming view
The rain was massive
A tsunami, of sorts
The wind blew,
Yet allowed me to stand
Then made me climb mountains,
Scream towards this vast land
View ocean’s waves,
Pondering thoughts in my brain
But it was the train, train, train
What I would give for one more ride
One more try
I blame Spring Break
That nasty troll
The best was the robin red breast
I loved his sweet tune
All of these reminded me of you
March came in like a lion
Been sitting like a lamb
Bring the lion back
Is all I ask
I know a simple place
It draws me in
Like your heartbeat, my friend
A perfect spot for just you and me
Can we watch the sunset
Hold each other closely
What I’ve missed
Yea, there’s a few trees
You know I like green
See the rain drops still glistening
On each and every leaf
The sun’s rays brighten your beautiful face
Paint me a picture of happy
We’ll watch each raindrop fall,
as well as our sun
Landing upon your chest
Sun so hot
Yet, the feel of your fingers ignite
Someday, I hope I find clarity in my poetry writing. Lately, I don’t feel I have any control. For now, I will continue to write this unrecognizable voice. I’ll send the words out here for you to view. Create a picture. It’s all I can do. It’s all I have been doing. It’s all that is being allowed through to paper. All I see are words floating. I try to catch them. Create.
Golden door knob twists
A slight push by the hip
The door: it opens
The sound of vacuumed air released
Her hand goes directly to the lamp
One she’s never seen
How comfortably she pulls the string
Her keys take to the table
Similarities liken to a movie scene
Pinky finger pulls at the straps
Slipping off her heels
Ahh , she savors the feeling
Wiggly toes go pitter pat
Down a dim hallway
Cherish the puzzlement
Where could he be
Light music playing
Feast smells spicy
Carefully she lets her hair free
Wondering what will he think of me
She makes the final turn
Stopping to witness
She continues unnoticed
Standing in awe
A quiet thunder heard
Towards him she goes
Left with no choice
It’s always been him
The universe sighs in relief
Ahh, we’re finally happy
The confidence of a Tigress wild
Anticipation has ceased
Standing behind him
Stop your hands – just breathe
This is what it feels like to be free
Mouth the words – thank you
The least you can do
See that vein in his neck
Pulses red blood through, for you
Imagine what he’s been feeling
Dreaming of you
Take ownership of his heart
Accept him for who he is
Make no promises
He may break your heart, too
Dive in, remember he’s worth it
Feel your heartbeat
Rest assured, his beats like thunder, too
Notice his hesitation
He feels you near
Make your move, never fear
Hands slide from behind to the front
The beat of his love; pure devotion
Lean into him; ear to his back
Smell his scent – musk
Relax, a picture of true love
I didn’t think you’d ever get here.
I’ve been searching everywhere.
Was it the traffic?
No, just a lot of wrong turns, then there was spinning.
You will be pleased, no more wrong turns.
No wrong turns? I cannot imagine.
I’m here for you.
As I shall be, for you.
Let me lead…
I’ve never been allowed.
A man is all I know how to be.
A lady, then, I will become for thee.
Feel his pull as turns to face you
Search his eyes for the first time
Believe it’s him
Accept his power
(I hope this story suits you, Sisters. It was the only story that was allowed out. A lot swarming inside this brain. In other news, my book is coming along well. I hope this story brought you some emotion. Not as much of a tragedy after all. That is an improvement, I’d say. I will keep trying to write a perfect love story. One loaded with tragedy. Our story.)
A soft touch sent around the world
Fingers pursue you
Ears hear your deepest notes
A chance to read your words
Its been you for some time now
A blessing to breathe in the same air
Thank you for allowing me to be here
Hazel eyes pressing into the abyss
You aren’t allowed to watch this
Shy girls need some room to prepare
Sometimes words seem so unfair
Stir up feelings best left behind closed doors
Minds reveal awakenings
Writing is so personal
A poet’s mind forever boundless
She fears her muse may leave
Once her poet’s eye revealed
A plea sent around the world and back to you
Promise me you’ll consider
Before you leave me wondering, confused
A patchwork quilt spilled out and into a square. They fall into the covering and onto their backs.Two bodies side by side, together a powerful sight. Smiling eyes release their connection and turn upwards. Lost and gazing into a blue sky. White clouds overhead billowing, yet raging by. Arms pulled up and over their heads. Hands create sole pillows for their minds to find rest. Locked thoughts and desires just moments from notice or truth. With a bit of timing a mood changer created instead:
“Tell me of your life,” she whispered.
“There’s too much to recall, my dear.”
“Explain the cruelties of life, then. Start with why now and not twenty years sooner.”
“I can’t explain life, really. The fact is, my sweet, we aren’t allowed to question destiny.”
“Destiny? Is that what this is?”
“Now, look at that cloud!” he points upwards and across her chest.
“You mean the one over there that looks like an elephant,” she entertains.
“Elephant? I say, mountain.”
“Clearly, it’s an elephant!”
“Now, relax. Quickly, before the shifting begins, look again. See? Mountain…” he encourages.
“Maybe you could explain why you see a mountain and I see an elephant?”
“The explaination not as easy to believe, I fear. I’d like to see an elephant. I’m a believer in elephants. Alas, the cloud above us is a mountain strong and true.”
“So, you don’t want to see my elephant? You’d rather focus on your mountain?”
“Arguably, it isn’t as simple as what we see when laying here together.”
“I think it is. You don’t want to see my breathing elephant. You’d rather continue to view the cold hard mountain.”
“What is that supposed to mean? The elephant you see isn’t alive. It is a cloud passing by in the sky.”
“I think we both know what I mean!”
“I like laying here with you, though. It’s nice having a chat,” she exhaled.
“Yes, we should consider how to achieve more of that.”
“This…you mean. Achieve more of this…chatting.”
“No, I meant the disagreeing.”
“Ahh, it seems, you push me to look for elephants.”
“And I for mountains, my love…”
Them’s fighting words, so I spat back with, “Yeah, well….so what.” She was right. She was still hopeful. She was still crackin’ jokes. 😉
I got nothin’.
This was hard work and we hadn’t floated all but about a half a mile total and we’d been out here three hours, at least. We had walked and walked and walked some more. Did I mention we also carried our tubes? The children were still floating on and off, for the most part, and giggling along. The adults were pulling and carrying tubes. Mostly we were walking over river rocks in shin deep water regretting our idea.
Now and again, a group of people would come by, most of them walking and pulling each other, but at a much faster pace than our crew. They obviously had better shoes or some sort of slime retardent on the bottom of last years Nikes, which kept them from braking their knees. Continue reading