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A blog documenting my writing journey |
I hope this is entertaining... :) |
Time to Skedaddle Calloused fingers trace lazy circles along silky rims. Weighted corners of dry lips twitch fresh stubble, hiccup burning oak incense of second-rate bourbon. Inky flesh spirals beneath glazed mellow eyes, mining deeper shadows within creased cheeks. Uncrumpling chaps puff moonlit dust as knees quiver, staggering languid zigzags across hollow planks. Ragged breaths quiet into soothing arms of night’s embrace. |
maybe tomorrow I’ll have something to say maybe tomorrow my mind will not stray maybe tomorrow I’ll find reasons to play maybe tomorrow my muse won’t go away maybe tomorrow I’ll break down and pray maybe tomorrow my thoughts won’t decay maybe tomorrow I won’t let guilt weigh maybe tomorrow turns into today |
This was a tough one to write. Particularly since it's semi-based on someone I actually used to know. Before he committed suicide. Most of the rest of the story never happened, though. Writing this took me back to kind of a dark place. I'm kinda thinking I maybe shouldn't have tapped into this particular vein of inspo. Hits a little too close to home. :(
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My first foray into the kyrielle form...
The French really seem to like the repeating verse. I don't blame them. I do too. :) I like the syllable but not meter requirements too. You can use meter to make certain parts flow, but then disrupt the meter in other lines to make them feel jarring, yet still hit the required syllable count. |
Yay! I finally won a limerick contest with my St. Patrick's Day flurry of limericks! The judges liked this one: I thought we’d go out, but we’re stayin’. She said, “Paddy’s a saint. We are prayin’.” I can’t help but think, “I’d much rather drink.” My mistake was in that to her sayin’. I sent back this response: Thank you so much. You're so kind. I'm glad the stars neatly aligned to grant me a win. I'm wearing a grin. Anyone want an autograph signed? (I kid, of course... ) |
Eyes squeezed shut, freshly licked lips quiver, eager fingers tremble, cradling a crispy cone. Sniffing saccharine scents, a pink tongue slithers forth, burrowing languid zig zags into spheres of frosty cream. |
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The new Banks album is finally out! [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] |
Downturned eyes never meeting, machine-like feet ever beating, I flow through the prickly incoming tide of nylon shells. Happy smiles prove so fleeting. Why do few offer a greeting? They seem so entwined in concrete-ensconced thoughts. I chirp bright hellos as I’m eating, laugh as shocked souls think I’m cheating. |
For the latest Banks album to drop tomorrow... [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] |