Art,’he said, ‘should offer the viewer the chance of merging with the creator.’
Colours explore emotional Integrity – encourage the oft skittish after thought.
His rainbow palette unlocks the blueprint of his makers true motives.
Reasons for his restless soul ; to convince us to pause; then walk away appraising transformation.
Change in notion pollinates – an opportunity to conceive to full bloom.
Open minds connect to open hearts .Creation over rides desire- Fosters survival.
Existence is impassive – Life becomes a conscious act of fruition.
This writing prompt came from the the seventh sentence on the 7 th page of the 7th book my bookshelf .
The task was to write a poem starting with the sentence from my book and make a seven line poem. Almost did it 😉
the sentence comes from the book ‘Screenplay -the foundations of screenwriting by Syd field
When my Kalinda peers into his reflection he see’s jagged, ragged parts of a body
Staggered yet separate. -body parts sewn together haphazardly.
The truth is stranger than fiction.
How can it be!
his soul mate doesn’t mirror the effort in his deeds.
ffinger nails claw and pierce at skin -prolong hanging flesh separated from bone
VIP’s seated , assume an opinionated speculation into the art of this self destruct –
The blown up bags come from the baldy eagle, wearing a t-shirt that says ‘corrupt -will sell poison to feed my ego.’
Point in rage to pandora’s obsessive flirtation with suicide.
Maidenhead Hymen annuls her delusional animas.
Make her believe!
it helps her to inhale insecticides.
What is wrong with all that is her?
doesnt she get that her life can be more than a bargain plea?
why does every stonewalled chamber gather breathe from disjointed words,
instead of radiating from true love’s scribbled scribes in blank verse.
Write to recover. Recover to write.
Perform this pantmine on las ramblas , in the hope the days will turn bright.
Supportive cups hold up the excess mounds.
‘damn you look good, healthy, put some weight on’
Must she hear this now? or indeed ever!
It’s too avant garde even for Gaudy.
Face swollen from a sting with an arbitrary drone.
Monthly luna flickers up sheds of decrepit blood clots;
compund that to a portrait that makes her face plump–fits of
dis – ease
stop with the back handed compliments, hun.
Hands hesitate over arms once scrawny, cheek bones sliced inwards.,
She’s rather own her shame and reach every gaze at her in a state of lean chronic thigh gap syndrome
spongy Food floats
-drowns all sign of hope.
enough self loathing to remedy it with a calibre of a gun.
Date with Russian roulette –
6 chance distractions from this body, this mind ,every part called forward into existence.
five rounds until she lands in the seat of a crash test dummy.
Grief , guilt ,
unpleasant to the taste.
fret bursts in beads of sweat – her few will revolt into petulant demonstrations of
Get by on hope and luck and a fine mother hen
A good sized egg , pair of irises that delude her into feeling all her sins have been revoked.
Never knew there was a word to describe their combined fate.
Never knew Shakespeare studied the stars and knew much about lovers who mate.
Never knew they were lined up as opposites-never to align on the same side.
Thoughts of opposites attract are magic tinted Methos applied,
so people can trust to confide
in each other.
Always end up leaving one for another.
A summer’s day, sitting, drag remnants on a Marlboro tab.
Destiny reeled her in like an unlicensed cab.
Doomed. Life growing inside – feelings of Rigor Mortis was all she could summon to transpire.
The truth was the loss of her will
She had lost that inner fire.
Under a freckled thumb- tangled in a webbed lie
through it the sun still shone.
A shadow emerged from the light, and a heart realized its given art.
Fairytale savior- a hero always ready with a smile.
Swallowing down screams.
into a false smile.
Their eyes connect – should she tell him what she has done?
It was never to be.
Swallowed a lethal poison in an effort to be free.
Yes, she intended to take the life with her she had growing inside.
It was a desperate plea.
Shades of nausea, don’t you see?
Coins fall to the floor along with all the great works of Wordsmith Shakespeare.
It was easier to think unlovable thoughts
imagined hatred in speech bubble form.
To hear him say you are not for me
distilled in clouds of fear.
Bus stop revellers turn heads
eager for a spectacle.
He walked away.
Not trusting him still burns her cheeks
to the same Fahrenheit, she felt that day.
Rain lands on penetrable skin,
wanting much more and expecting the very least,
set the fickle tone for the rest of this cycle of the ‘beck and call’.
Inevitably Seasons passed.
A winters day,
he called out her name.
His smile cleared up the fog of habitual trudging through the every day
blurs into arts of abstract- more imposing than some great display admired from afar.
Swept up with day to day folk uncluttered by star-crossed philosophy.
another chance to show him- somehow he would think.
that girl -WOW!
Fight for her
over imbibed, arguments stippled in blackouts.
with sand she dug up for her own grave.
Dirty bitten down nails,
silent punishment for things that could never be undone.
Who’s to say who was truly in the wrong?
She can’t remember much
past walking into the house promising the most fun.
Dressed and forgiven – ready to wed the worthiest white knight to ever traverse her path.
Dichotomy sanctifies such a union.
Tear’s splotch faces, toasts, fuzzy memories.
no need for a tuppence
Freely sung the newlyweds a blessing.
Something along the lines of tinkles chimes and her laugh.
Afterthoughts cushioned by rose petals
a lavender fusion
flagellation on self
imposed by guilt
deepening the confusion.
How do we wake, make our move if caught in the spin cycle of punishing our souls?
her thoughts told her.
If indeed they were merely star-crossed
She would willfully find a way.
Barefooted, she soberly walked into a live fire burning on coals.
Figure out what she felt she owed or indeed was it all a division in her head.
Passions stunned into a state of arousal
Who’s to say if it fulfilled her?
Tears wanton to overflow
nearly lost sense of all ground.
37 days she had not bled.
There are only four seasons.
winter clearly signaling death and rebirth to come.
His posturing lingered long in her mind.
the duresse of her thoughts;
permanently fixtured her by the spun out Catherine wheels.
Clarity comes in an obscure fashion.
Manner and presentation are not facts.
Facts -harsh and cold.
unveiled decision in an exposed mind, scuttling in the dark
not even aware he let loose his redundant rats.
Infiltrate every corner of her mind.
Passively they sit by,
osmosis eyes watch a happy family in a tourniquet.
Forced to apply more pressure.
Open up the wound.
Calculated a reactive to get one man’s truth.
Perhaps Star-crossed lovers are indeed something to be forgot .
Her silence is her answer.
Silence sees her own worth, she sees clarity it doesn’t bother her if the passion died,
Along with the whereabouts of his existence
Shadows move all the time,
even in Beirut.
She walks along her path with a smile on her face.
Her silence doesn’t require her to look up for another clue.
He was never a star-crossed lover but merely another.
* remember: just because one person/people reveals their opinion or truth about what they think of you to you. This is not the whole truth or even half of it. You are not other people’s opinions. Never let people wear you down into believing you are merely what say or what they think you are. No one has their shit together all the time or even most of the time 😀
Change of focus. ‘If you want to change a relationship, you must change yourself, not the other person’ Quote unknown
Have you ever thought about the traits and quirks that you hate in other people may be a reflection of a trait you refuse to see in yourself?
Don’t be ashamed!
There must be balance,
So similar qualities you admire in others too, hold a reflection to the qualities you already possess. Lesson — Acknowledge these qualities and flaws.
‘ All changes,even the most longed for, have their melancholy, for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves, we must die to one life before we can enter another’ -Anatole Francis (1844-1924
Been puffing away at my banana flavoured E vape these past couple of days. I’ve hit a lull in blogging. Since Sept 2015. I have not had one day I didn’t have something to post about.Now I am starting to doubt my content. Too long ? too short? boring? not enough flowery words?
NO MORE DOUBTING!
I’m not trying to make money out of blogging. Some people do. I started blogging to get my writing out there and see what people thought. I now have followers following my blog! – none of who were friends to begin with or family.I feel like I am blessed. At first,I was upset that the people in my life didn’t didn’t support me. Then again why should they? If I support them in their projects then that is my choice and they too have choice. I’ve found some amazing bloggers on reader.
I am casting my net a bit wider now and have jumped into a bigger pool of water –STUMBLE UPON IT. Anyone want to join me? There are so many bloggers on the word reader feed that need a bigger platform. Me included. New challenges urge me to go on. I love being able to express myself in a way that doesn’t mean I have be locked behind bars. I’m only human and I have discovered I need to grow as a writer and I want others to reciprocate. I want people to get my style.
Yes, I write for myself and I have come a long way without using all the html tricks. I don’t know how to use. I put in the time to read peoples posts about whatever shit is going on. I have kind of got to the point where I need to decide whether I continue to support those who are unable to reach back. I comment a lot on peoples posts and I just get a like. Is thatt I am at that point where I feel I could have said ‘You are a knobhead’ and still got a thumbs up like. NOT ALL BLOGGERS ARE LIKE THIS.
So I am casting my net to wider parts of the blogo sphere. I will still be on word reader reading the posts I truly get. There are a few posts/blogs I don’t get and I can’t try and get all of you like I have been doing. I can’t. This is the next bold step in blogging for me.
I’ve always been truthful and I won’t change speaking my mind- blunt and to the point.
So here is to breaking free from the lull and trying something new. We need change otherwise nothing will every change and we won’t move forward. I don’t need a google image quote to make my point. At least I don’t think I do.
(image is source from Google pics)