~ I hope you’ve found your moments today ~
I was thinking about you when I jotted down these words
Archives
#OctPoWriMo (Day 3 of 31)
DAY 3
(it’s still day 4, I’ve almost caught up with the crowd! )
Prompt – The Taste of Metal
Write a Cherita using the following prompt as inspiration – The Taste of Metal
A cherita is a form of poetry referred to as hexostitch. It is a 6 line, 3 stanza poem. The first stanza is 1 line, the second, 2, and the third, 3. Cheritas are typically untitled and unrhymed, each cherita should tell a tale.
(Sometimes I follow directions, sometimes I use them as coasters. There is metal in my cherita, it just isn’t being tasted . . .)
* * *
Small metal box, cold to the touch, wrapped in the tulle of an old wedding veil.
Frail and fragile hands caress the top, lift the latch, reach inside.
Watercolor eyes, wet with tears, blink and stare at the treasure within.
One by one she holds them. Word by word she reads them. Each fading page brings memory back to life, she holds his words like she once held his hand, and spreads her wings to join him.
Previous Challenge Posts
Day 1 – How Did You Get here?
Day 2 – We Write Because We Must
If you liked what you just read, like it, pin it, share it, tweet it, stumble it! Thank you!
#OctPoWriMo (Day 2 of 31)
DAY 2
(really, it’s day 4, still late to the party)
Prompt – We Write Because We Must
Free write for ten minutes stating, “We write because we must”
* * *
We write because we must . . . because the alternative might be madness.
Sometimes words take us by the hand and lead us to the page, we slip off our shoes and dance with them, dance with them for days. We give them reign and let them roam, following were they go, and when we tire, we lay them down, off to rest they go.
Sometimes they beg to rise, once we lay down them down to sleep. We haven’t the time, we need to rest, we pray their souls to keep. Just for a while, precious words, for a while please be still. But with their silent pleas and sorrow, they lead us to the quill.
Sometimes they command, demand attention and release. Overwhelm our thoughts and take control of all our dreams. Not to be ignored, they rage, lest we put them on a page.
There are those among us who can quell the voice within, for others, the only way to quiet them is with a page and pen.
We write to free ourselves, and set others free as well. We write because there’s stories, so many stories we must tell. We write to right the wrongs we see, to fill in voids and blanks. We spread out words before us, and within them, we escape.
We write to soothe our souls, to scream in silent sound, we write to fill the silence with a different kind of sound. We write to find out who we are and what’s inside us.
We write . . . we write, because we simply must.
Previous Challenge Posts
Day 1 – How Did You Get here?
If you liked what you just read, like it, pin it, share it, tweet it, stumble it! Thank you!
#OctPoWriMo (day 1 of 31)
DAY 1
(really, it’s day 4, but I’m late to the party)
Prompt – How did you get here?
Forged in fire,
tempered with faith,
in battle I’ve broken,
been mended by grace.
Wounded warrior,
still standing to fight,
shrouded in darkness,
bathing in light.
I stand before God
courageous and scared,
I stand before God,
my soul laid bared.
Mountains I’ve climbed
have filled me with strength,
the miles I’ve traveled
have given me wings.
I tell of my journey
in verse line and ink
in poetry and prose
I breathe and I think.
Chapter by chapter
my story is told
my heart,
my heart is beating,
on the pages you hold.
Every path I have walked,
every detour I’ve trodden,
are mapped on my soul
and never forgotten.
Every step, every stumble
is writ upon my heart,
an unfolding, living story
in which I play a part.
If you liked what you just read, like it, pin it, share it, tweet it, stumble it! Thank you!
Beneath the Poet Tree
I’ll tell you
a tale
once shared
with me,
of a magical place
and the
Poet Tree,
where muses
dance
in the
gentle breeze,
and butterflies fly
with gossamer wings.
It’s been told
a word
was planted,
and a tree began
to grow,
the trunk rose
high above,
the roots reached
far below.
Her branches lifted
toward the sky,
upon each leaf
a poem
was writ,
she shaded
wandering scribes,
who chose
that place
to sit.
Some say
the tree
called out,
to those it felt
would hear,
they sensed a
gentle pull
when they
dared to
venture near.
They say
the leaves
would whisper
in softly spoken
rhyme,
with pure and
perfect recitation,
line by
lovely line.
They felt a
temperate presence,
like a ghost
from days
of old,
weaving words
around them,
so the story has
been told.
With unseen
inspiration,
their words
began to spill,
filling full
their parchment,
emptying
their quills.
Oh, how I long
to hear
her softly
whispered plea,
to take
my place
and rest
and write
beneath the
Poet Tree.
With pen
in hand
and heart
agleam
I’d script
the hopes
and thoughts
inside me,
and words
would waltz
and words
would breathe,
upon a stage
they’d sing.
The words
would dance,
they’d be
dancing
with me,
while I dreamed
a paper dream.
© 2017 Crystal R. Cook
If you liked what you just read, like it, pin it, share it, tweet it, stumble it! Thank you!
Daily Haiku Challenge – Booknvolume Blog
Morgan, at the Booknvolume blog, is running a Daily Haiku Challenge, and I kind of love haiku, and I always love a good challenge as well. Believe it or not, Haiku can prove quite challenging.
The goal of haiku is to fit something filled with meaning into three short lines consisting of 17 syllables in total, it needs to invoke feeling, and make sense. This is how I’ve always thought of haiku.
Traditional Japanese haiku is, for lack of a better way to say it, simple complexity. I’ll likely never master it, but I do enjoy trying.
A recent walk around the neighborhood served up inspiration, and fortunately, I was able to capture it . . .
Nature thrives divine
despite effort made by man
to maintain control
cRc
If you liked what you just read, like it, pin it, share it, tweet it, stumble it! Thank you!
Tanka Poetry Challenge, Lady & Portrait
Rambling Writer hosts a weekly tanka poetry challenge and I was happy to find it! Currently, this fun challenge is on week 59 . . .
I love tanka poetry, like haiku, the form utilizes a set number of lines and syllables. Haiku consists of three lines, with 5/7/5 syllables respectively, while tanka consists of 5 lines, with 5/7/5/7/7 for its syllable count.
Portrait and Lady are the two words chosen to tickle the tanka bone. My creative juices have been but a trickle of late, thank you, Rambling Writer, for some much needed inspiration.
Leonardo da Vinci “Virgin on the Rocks”
Master of each stroke
caressing canvas with brush,
chiaroscuro,
giving pigment breath of life,
portrait of a lady fair
cRc
If you liked what you just read, like it, pin it, share it, tweet it, stumble it! Thank you!
If I Came With a Warning Label
I found this Mini Writing Prompt challenge on the Brave and Reckless blog, and as per my usual, I’m late to the party. That’s a little misleading, I usually skip parties, BUT bloggy parties – now that’s more my speed.
This prompt prompted readers and writers to wax poetic about what their warning labels might say. I actually think I would have more than one (or three). I’d be curious to see what cautions my family would warn of. I may have to follow up on that. For now, though . . .
– If I came with a warning label –
The corners would
likely be peeled
like ancient scrolls of old,
evidence of times
I’d tried to remove it.
The faded words would say
handle with care –
contents may be
fragile, combustible,
easily shattered.
Keep in a cool, quiet space
filled with light and love.
May wield words against you
or wrap you within their solace.
Must never be placed
within a box,
requires room to fly freely
and a safe place to land.
May not always
behave as expected.
Handle with care –
contents may be fragile.
If you liked what you just read, like it, pin it, share it, tweet it, stumble it! Thank you!
Poetry Defined
– po·et·ry –
ˈpōətrē
Words with
paper wings
gilded in
gossamer
string
dappled with ink
spilled from
a dream.
CrC
If you liked what you just read, like it, pin it, share it, tweet it, stumble it! Thank you!
Choose Them With Care
“Sticks and stones may break my bones,
but words can never hurt me.”
Oh, my precious soul,
but they can
and they do.
Words cut.
Words sting.
They echo
in hearts and minds.
Those sticks and stones
may bruise you, yes,
but bruises fade.
Scars of the flesh can heal.
Broken bones renew.
Words though,
sharp enough to etch
a mark upon the heart
fester and grow,
inflicting pain
long after
they are spoken.
Words become weapons
when wielded
without care.
But hope, too,
resides within them.
Words can heal,
mend what others
have broken.
Used as a shield, deflecting
spoken daggers aimed
at the heart.
Words, the right words,
can fell foes
and lift the fallen.
Choose them, precious soul,
choose them with
thoughtful intention.
Command them
with honor,
respect the power
they hold
and you will
find strength
within them.
Choose them wisely,
precious soul,
and use them
for your good . . .
CrC
The Qwiet Muse 