The Dance

Today’s submission is to 3ww. The three words for this week are Dangle, Labor, and Neatly. I thought I would have a little fun with the prompt and tie it in with my fly fishing!

 

The shimmering fly dangled from a perfect loop knot,

 neatly displaying a “woolly bugger”,  finally

after my frozen fingers fumbled, dropping

the hook to the bottom of the boat,

fishing line spiraling into a knot – patience

allowed me, systematically to

intersect the lines over and under, untangling

the tangled mess.

 

Preparing to cast – I held my breath

 checking off a tedious list of instructions, memorized in my head –

don’t break your wrist

10 o’clock -2 o’clock or 2 o’clock -10 o’clock?

accelerate-Stop!

I watched as my line –midair- came to a stop and collapsed, lazily

across the lake, like a cobra – uncoiling – PLOP!

suddenly a Splash!

 

Circles of rings formed on top of the water,

 my rod arched against his tug

 I pulled up,

 setting the hook in his mouth,

he didn’t care, how

imperfect my cast – still

I coaxed him to feed on

marabou fibers and iridescent peacock feathered hackles.

 

More lists floated through my mind –

don’t horse him 

rod tip down when he jumps  

reel in FAST if he swims towards the boat

the line screamed as he took it, I let him have his way

 he was big and experienced – more experienced than me

my feet, heavy like cement, balanced my body in the boat

my hands held the rod up, watching him – feeling him

 

His aerial displays, like fireworks on the 1st of July

felt like a dance between us, him taking the lead

me, now becoming laboured, my arms

tired from our dance, felt a slack

in the line – he swam fast, towards the me

No! reeling fast, faster, faster – it was useless

I saw him against the boat, his magnificence

his experience – disappearing beneath me

goodbye, my friend.

 


Trust

Trust

 

I opened my window

letting in the sunshine,

releasing you

from me,

renewing my strength.

 

The memories

that once haunted me, drifted

through rays of golden light,

opening my heart

once again.

 

I will not punish myself

for trusting you,

instead

I will trust myself for

believing in me.


Secrets

This is my first attempt at an Sonnet for my poetry class along with a submission to 3WW. The three words for this week are : Feign, Imply and Virtue.  I know I have a lot to learn about Sonnets, but here is my first attempt.

Secrets

I am the product of my own desires.

Sensual secrets, buried beneath my skin,

only to be exposed in the passions of fire.

Guilty whispers, echoing an unforgiving sin.

I am blinded by your touch; I imply

virtue no more. Our forbidden passion flows

like a raging river; I cannot deny

my concealed expectations. My heart knows,

as time passes and I watch the sunrise,

we must set ourselves free; return tomorrow

along that bumpy, dusty road of demise.

Feign happiness, and accept the sorrow

placed upon others in a moment of lust,

and try to regain an acceptance of trust.


Blackened Tears

Today for our poetry assignment we had to go through the newspaper and find an article to write a poem about. We had to  write like we witnessed the account. I read a tragedy that recently happened in Edmonton Alberta. A terrible explosion in a neighbourhood. There wasn’t a lot written in the article but there were a lot of pictures. It’s was a  very traumatic story.

Blackened Tears


Billowing black clouds

mushroomed high,

colouring blue skies, with fear

Scattered debris, like matchsticks

discarded, flames snuffed and smouldering


The explosion echoed

rattling my windows

A monster knocking, no where to hide

Its eyes like flames,

glowing behind torn curtains


Tangled pieces of metal, embedded

in rooftops and vehicles

Dandelions and green grass,

once blanketed with lazy bodies on hot summer days,

now a graveyard to the shrapnel of shattered lives


Sunday’s sprinklers

replaced with fire hoses,

spraying high to unforgiving

flames, choking cries

from the shocked and traumatized


Darkness falls; 1:20 Sunday afternoon,

sirens fill the streets

A warzone

Through smoky scenes,

masked saviours search


A nightmare, dreamt with

eyes open

An explosion, unknown

Three men’s lives, stolen

on a Day for Fathers




Grandma

Today’s post is actually an assignment for my poetry class and a submission for Thursday Tales. This is my first time submitting any writing at Thursday Tales although I have stopped by and read a lot and have really enjoy the site. My assignment was to look at a picture and  write ten lines. The first line – ask a question by the character. Next four lines- introduce a conflict the character has. Next four lines – resolve the conflict. Final line – rephrase the initial conflict in the first line, which is called an envelope effect”.


Grandma

Can you hear my words, lost in an echo?

Whispering swing, gently hushed

wisps of hair falling, unnoticed

I wait for your arms

to comfort me

My eyes find you, there!

Your smell; cinnamon and blackberries

lifting me high, my fingers

touch your skin, softly

Can you hear my words, lost in your heart?

image courtesy:   andrewf1


Goodbye

Wow, it’s been a long time since I’ve posted anything on Write Today. Life has been busy. I decided to take a poetry course and I am back to post some of the work from that course and will also try to find the time to head over to some familiar writing sites that have inspired me in the past.  I’ve always loved poetry but was kind of scared to jump in without knowing much. I still don’t, but I hope to gain some knowledge over the next six weeks.

Here is the first assignment from my Pleasures of Poetry class. We had a few different prompts to choose from but had to start of with “My mind swims with thoughts of”. Once mine was written my instructor suggested taking out the prompt heading.

Goodbye

Your eyes, smile

teenage legs tuck high to your chest, jumping

splashing me by the poolside.


Your hands now calloused

building garden boxes filled with

rich, black soil, seeds

bursting to reach the sun.


Darkness falls

filling your glass, turning

your eyes, angry.

Our garden, dry

weeds strangling all life.



Lost Purity

Today’s prompt for Sunday Scribblings is: Organic

A Haiku on what can happen when we allow society to influence our thoughts and desires as we grow older. I believe that children’s minds are  uncorrupted and innocent until the rules of society influence their belief in themselves.

 

Lost Purity

purest desire

organic thoughts from within

lost in today’s world

 

 


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