Memories of Innocence – Trinet – October12, 2015

Collage 8

Memories of Innocence

in my secret garden
where once I wished on stars
a dream
now gone

© G.s.k. ‘15

Note:  the form is a Trinet (7 lines with word counts of 2,2,6,6,2,2,2).

Written for: Writing Prompt #128 “Collage 8″

She was Mad but He was Magic – Collage Wordeling – August 30, 2015

Collage 5

She was Mad but He was Magic

Her heart sprouted
from a dung heap
not far from
where the hawker’s balloon
fell to earth
near Jebson’s farm
in a now dead and dry
corn field …

She’d pined
becoming a mole
setting forth into the world
only at full moon-rise
when the beams
dripped cold.

“Reach out
for the remedy of your ills -”
the hawker called out:
“brewed from the seeds
found only on the vines
of Cleverness!”

She took a sip of the brew
– watched the liquid flow from the bottle
little did she know
where its power came from
but she entered a new world
she found oblivion
in a new love.

The hawker’s mission accomplished,
invited her into his balloon
and they left that farming district
never to return …

People still talk about them saying:
“She was mad but he was magic!”

© G.s.k. ‘15

Written for:

The Sunday Whirligig – August 19 – THIS WEEK’S WORDS come from “The Man Born to Farming” by Wendell Berry: reach, farming, sprout, dung, enters, corn, comes, mole, rise, seed, flows, vine

and Writing Prompt #122 “Collage 5″

Empty Beach – September 1, 2014

empty beach

on the empty beach
wind whipping the angry waves
where lovers once walked
a girl sits on a park bench
her young love has departed

gulls call overhead
with the sea’s invitation
forget departures
her tears fall with the red leaves
looking at the empty beach

Written for Carpe Diem Haiku Family Shadow – Empty Beach

love (free verse)


and as my Muse
hid in the laurels
thinking to be well-hidden
his sweet perfume
called to my mind
his light beamed
’round the leaves
nearly blinding me
and I imagined
an embrace
warm and tender
an eternal warmth
and a song to be sung
near a water fall…
and I called it love
for it was a poem
being born.

Written for Free Write Friday, which I found thanks to Cher Shares.  The prompt was:

The following speech from “Dead Poets Society”: 

“We don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for. To quote from Whitman, “O me! O life!… of the questions of these recurring; of the endless trains of the faithless… of cities filled with the foolish; what good amid these, O me, O life?” Answer. That you are here – that life exists, and identity; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. That the powerful play *goes on* and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be?” — John Keating (Robin Williams) Dead Poets Society


Bastet’s Sunday Writing Prompts: Power Shorts 3

For Bastet’s Sunday Writing Prompt on the 13th Floor Paradigm.

Lake Garda

Power Short

The Departure

Giulia looked into Robert’s eyes.

“What time do you leave?” he asked her.

“8:30. Walk me to my cat.”

They walked down to the docks, he carrying her duffle-bag.  Reaching the “Beaux Gest” they crossed the gangplank and went on-board.

“It’s only for around a month, then I’ll be back.”

“I know…but a month is so long.”

He wrapped her in his arms, resting his head on hers. She felt her heart pull between her two loves.

“I’ll be waiting for your calls.”

They kissed passionately then he left.

Raising the main sail she began her first solo Atlantic crossing.