Poetry in a Diamente Format. It was a writing challenge this week.
I might do more later
She
Tall, pretty
Reading, Dreaming, Thinking
Her gaze unblinking on his, his lips to hers
Smiling, Singing, Dying
Confident, detached
He
Showing posts with label Writing Challenge. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Writing Challenge. Show all posts
Wednesday, August 12, 2015
Poetry - He/She
Poetry - He/She
Poetry in a Diamente Format. It was a writing challenge this week.
I might do more later
Poetry in a Diamente Format. It was a writing challenge this week.
I might do more later
Friday, June 5, 2015
Writing Challenge - Joy
Writing Challenge - Joy
"Joy, are you there?"
"I just came by to talk. How is it going? How is everything?"
"It's nice here, and quiet. The kids are good, Blair is done school now, going backpacking across France soon."
"I sold that old quad, bought a new one. Grain's growing tall now. The days are warm. Ellie is learning to make pies."
"Joy? Are you there? I just came by to tell you that I still miss you."
Tell a story. Five lines.
Dialogue only.
"Joy, are you there?"
"I just came by to talk. How is it going? How is everything?"
"It's nice here, and quiet. The kids are good, Blair is done school now, going backpacking across France soon."
"I sold that old quad, bought a new one. Grain's growing tall now. The days are warm. Ellie is learning to make pies."
"Joy? Are you there? I just came by to tell you that I still miss you."
Friday, May 29, 2015
Writing - Skytrain Gunfight in Two
Writing - Skytrain Gunfight in Two
“Take your shot.”
I stand on an empty train platform at 1 in the morning,
having just exited the skytrain. My back is to a man who has been following me
for the last seven stops, and the walk through downtown along West Georgia. He
is in his late 30s, he has a non-descript backpack and a sling bag, black
jeans, t-shirt and boots.
Tuesday, May 26, 2015
Writing Exercise - The Belltower
Writing Exercise - The Belltower
The belltower was crumbling and wasting from disuse. Rotten timbers were strewn everywhere, the perhaps once-fancied idea of repairing the failing structure. Pigeons had taken to nesting in the eaves, vermin scurried underfoot, over it all was the pervasive fall of dust that clung to the surfaces like a lost lover. The rope to the bell-pull was long since gone, perhaps scavenged by some over-eager children for a new play-toy. The stairs rickety and unsafe to the rafter proper. But above it all, the bell. The bell, glorious thing, its brass had seen better days, and the clapper had some rust. But should it be rung, what a clear knell might sound over the abandoned city, consumed long ago by forest. What a clear kneel might sound.
The belltower was crumbling and wasting from disuse. Rotten timbers were strewn everywhere, the perhaps once-fancied idea of repairing the failing structure. Pigeons had taken to nesting in the eaves, vermin scurried underfoot, over it all was the pervasive fall of dust that clung to the surfaces like a lost lover. The rope to the bell-pull was long since gone, perhaps scavenged by some over-eager children for a new play-toy. The stairs rickety and unsafe to the rafter proper. But above it all, the bell. The bell, glorious thing, its brass had seen better days, and the clapper had some rust. But should it be rung, what a clear knell might sound over the abandoned city, consumed long ago by forest. What a clear kneel might sound.
Wednesday, May 20, 2015
Writing Challenge - Spartan
Writing Challenge - Spartan
The writing challenge for the next two days: 4-6 lines about a place that evoke an emotion through description of that place itself.
The space was even and regular, angular in a way that highlighted perfect corners and solid edges. Even the bed was impeccably dressed, no trace of softness to the blankets, or the stiff, single pillow that adorned it. There was no art on the walls, no accents on the tables, nothing gave off visible light save the soft glow of sunlight from the windows and the skylight. It could have been a magazine cover, or carefully tailored by an artisan's hand for a photographer. All that, save for a single dying rose on the bedside table, crinkled and beginning to flake in decay.
The writing challenge for the next two days: 4-6 lines about a place that evoke an emotion through description of that place itself.
The space was even and regular, angular in a way that highlighted perfect corners and solid edges. Even the bed was impeccably dressed, no trace of softness to the blankets, or the stiff, single pillow that adorned it. There was no art on the walls, no accents on the tables, nothing gave off visible light save the soft glow of sunlight from the windows and the skylight. It could have been a magazine cover, or carefully tailored by an artisan's hand for a photographer. All that, save for a single dying rose on the bedside table, crinkled and beginning to flake in decay.
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