He hid in the tower’s apex. The moonlight sliced through the merciful darkness of his sanctuary, revealing his location. When the swallow finally found him and serenaded he would return to clay and his hopes of living would fossilize.
~~
Category Archives: challenges
An icy heart
21 Comments
The dagger hung from my eaves and I knew I would escape tonight. He would not be able to stop me. I plunged the icicle into his heart with every ounce of desired freedom. It will melt long before they find him.
There is nothing to fear but……TV commercials and junk mail
11 CommentsBeginning a new year is difficult. There is a tremendous amount of pressure to join the mainstream of people who have made numerous resolutions for the impending 362 days, considering the leap year. And if it were not bad enough to be compelled by friends and family to make a list of the things we would like to accomplish, the media shoves the most popular of those resolutions down our throat with each television commercial they can fit into an amiable time slot.
The start of a new calendar year should give us hope but those writers, those advertising gurus that tax their brains to come up with stunning ads, somehow make us feel like the earnest promises we make for ourselves are slightly off the mark.
I was feeling excited. I was entering 2016 on my terms and, although I had not made them public, I had made a small set of goals I would like to accomplish this year. I wanted to embrace my skills and I was looking forward to a year filled with prose and literary triumph. And then I made the mistake of turning on my television.
Thankfully I have the fortitude to block out the nonsense that is broadcast to us, in what they think is a subliminal missive. If I heed the message in those commercials, I would look at my humble goals and feel nothing but fat, undervalued and, as Bridget Jones’ Diary would describe it, like a spinster who would eventually end up being eaten by wild dogs.
The rubbish I receive by email can be just as bad. Countless emails for weight loss, dating sites and plausible scenarios to make me my best self accumulate in my junk box. Those messages are ignored just as quickly as they were downloaded.
I find great value in myself as well as my sincere goals for the new year. Screw the advertising monsters who want to make me feel less than I am. My worth cannot be described in a commercial. My life cannot be depicted by a summation of what presumed reality sees as my shortcomings.
I am me. I have worth because I care about people and I respect myself. I treasure my strengths, I acknowledge my weaknesses and I spend each day trying to have a positive effect on those around me.
Now, if they can write a commercial for something like that, maybe next time I’ll leave the television on.
Table for one
6 Comments
The single coffee cup made me sense my solitude even more. Everything around me faded into the background, much like I knew I had been doing. The cloud over my morning solace taunted me, trying to will me to tears. But I simply sat on that stool and waited for the rainbow.
The sense of sensibility
11 CommentsThe Reverie posted an interesting challenge in honor of Jane Austen. We are given 11 words (in true Austen style) and asked to write a poem with at least 7 of them. It got in 10. Check out the challenge and give it a try.
To acknowledge a want,
to trust in a wish,
evokes a certain wonder.
What good fortune it would be,
to wear our pride without prejudice,
to yearn, not for possessions
but for the good in man.
A single hope,
a solemn wish
to bring peace
to the world.
~~
She chose to believe
5 CommentsHe was a focused man and remained fixated by his purpose. The accoutrements he carried would make him believable. His white collar made her trust him immediately. She didn’t see the open van door until it was too late.
Second, third and fourth thoughts
10 CommentsI am a thinker. I’m not like the bronze statue perpetually perched on bent hand in a state of posthumous concentration but I am equally consumed by thought. I never give things a second thought, I give them a third and fourth thought until I am satisfied that I can think no more. Maybe Winnie The Pooh was on to something.
I never do anything on a whim. I have to examine things from many angles, deconstruct the complete picture and piece it back together while thinking of all the probabilities and possibilities of that situation. I replay conversations in my head thinking about what words were uttered even examining the inflection in the words that were spoken. I don’t have an eidetic memory but I can certainly recall conversations, sometimes verbatim, and I will analyze those words until I am satisfied that what I heard was what I was supposed to hear.
My brain likes to disassemble moments or conversations, examine each piece and then slowly rebuild that moment until it is once again the sum of all of its parts. I don’t know why I am the way I am. There are moments that I would like to be that duck that allows the water to bead and roll from its back, just lets it go, but that is not how I am built. I need to analyse – I need to dwell on an idea until my thinking has left me satisfied and content.
I am a thinker. I am a re-thinker. Potentially, I am an over-thinker. In any case, I can rest assured that I have exhausted every angle before I’ve come to a final decision and that thought helps me sleep at night – until I think I may have missed something and spend many early morning hours thinking about what thought may have eluded me.
Where are you on the think scale?
It was too late to even ask
18 CommentsHe asked for my forgiveness
and in my continuing silence
I found an abundance of long-buried strength.
~
Daunted by the conviction of my strength,
and with no more interest in asking for my forgiveness,
he returned my stare with his silence.
~
There was nothing golden about our silence.
But in that quiet, there was no weakness in my strength.
And because of that, never will he receive my forgiveness.
~
Forgiveness should never be assumed. His feeble request was met by deserved silence and fueled by my inner strength.
My first ever attempt at a Tritina for YeahWrite.Me
Giving myself permission to be me
12 CommentsSelf-doubt is a debilitating phenomenon. Most of us have experienced some form of self-doubt throughout our lives and the worst time for me was during my formidable years in high school. For those lucky enough to have had a firm belief in who they were during those years, my hat goes off to you. I was not one of those lucky people.
I spent many years trying to fly under the radar and just fit in. The image I presented was varied depending on the group of people with whom I was sharing those hallowed hallways. If I were completely honest about my years in secondary school, I would say that the vast majority of those precious moments was spent trying to be something that I didn’t feel I honestly represented.
But now, if I really think back, I can’t help but wonder – what if, in reality, I was actually being something that I truly was? Perhaps I doubted myself so much that I was unable to enjoy the different facets of my personality. Each of us has a gift, maybe several if we’re lucky, but each of us also has to realize that sometimes we have to be our own cheerleader, our own geek, our own jock and our own stoner.
I finally gave myself permission to be proud of the person I have become. I embrace the many parts of myself and the talents that I have. No longer am I looking for that gratification from anyone other than myself. Those years of self-doubt have since been stored in a box of memories and have been replaced by the belief that my opinion of myself matters the most and I can give myself permission to be every part of who I am.
Doubt kills more dreams than failure ever will. I don’t know who coined that phrase but I’d like to buy them a drink!
polysyllabic profundities 