Tag: loss

Romantic poetry shall never die – it’s what makes our hearts beat on 💔

September 13, 2019

Ideally with ‘Arrival of The Birds’ playing …

🖌🖌🖌🖌🖌🖌🖌🖌🖌🖌🖌🖌

I did it again.

I left you with no more than,

A kiss to the cheek.

A polite hug.

Within hours I am gripped,

By a panic.

It’s a feeling of loss.

Of being too late.

And the cruel consequence,

Is having to relive the moment.

I see sands of opportunity,

Slip through my fingers.

And I watch it fall away.

Staring eyes.

Memories of you jostle,

In my conscience.

The skin on your neck,

Where the shortest hairs start.

And become the place,

Where my fingers feel at home.

Pulling you closer,

Smelling your clean clothing,

The bottled scent I gave you,

Warmed by your body.

Too late to tell you,

That I’ll be yours forever.

Even though our paths,

Shall never cross again.

There were connections before you,

But none so deeply powerful.

You change me.

You changed my world,

And I wanted you in it.

But a free spirit is one quality,

You illustrated so well.

Showed me how to become one.

🖌🖌🖌🖌🖌🖌🖌🖌

Hello my gorgeous lovelies … I’m on a train, with my earphones in and was inspired to write you a little cuddly poem. It’s been far too long that I’ve ignored you all. Forgive me…

I read a poem recently by our great blogging friend Patti at Lovenlosses and I do hope she stayed safe during the recent hurricane.

I’ve also said hi to Mike, over at ReadafterBurnout who continues to entertain daily and I’ve downloaded his book which he released 9 August this year, so many congratulations on achieving this 🎉

A dystopian world awaits the reader and what little time I’ve had to read it so far has given me no less pleasure than I expected from this very talented author. A teacher on the surface, a storyteller in ‘real life’ … I shall be review and starring it once I’ve finished 🙏🏼

Another supporter of mine is the wonderful Joseph at FlowersinBloom who appears to have had a blogging break of a similar length to mine. Totally unplanned, that, but I think of him from time to time as it was his recommendation of a Gail Tsukiyama novel which started my love affair with all things zen and bonsai trees (don’t ask to see mine 😫 I’ve yet to discover the art of keeping them alive).

I continue to chat also to my fellow writer, the beautiful Italian living in Ireland, Sabina at Ortensia72, whose posts always have me laughing out loud at family life, and nodding with recognition… her Book 1 is also on my kindle and it’s appalling I’ve not yet come to it.

But.

I do have good reason.

In the time it’s taken to ignore you for the best part of the summer, I’ve somehow managed to edit my novel. On a structural level I’m talking now. I think I finally have something I can send out!

I’ve simplified the plot in some areas, because guess what? I wasn’t actually required to write the next instalment of Luther after all!

I sent my manuscript off to be critiqued by a Reader for the New Writer’s Scheme; part of the Romantic Novelists Association, and boy, did it need it! My Reader was kind. But honest. I don’t know who it was (their identity is kept on a need-to-know basis, and we don’t need to know).

However, I’d love to hug and assure them I was not in the slightest offended by any suggested change. I utilised about 97.8% of them in fact because the new words and grammar and alterations changed not the plot, but the tone. The maturity of the prose. It’s still my story but it’s got High School clothing now, rather than the rather shabby primary wear it had been used to.

I like it. And so did two agents at the annual conference. We must not get too excited because agents love ideas – it’s their job to find new authors’ books enticing. Once they read the whole thing, as opposed to those first three chapters we all work so hard to perfect, their enthusiasm could easily wane.

I decided I needed some serious help at this point. My first book. My first time digging up the roots of my literary baby. So I employed a mentor!

For six weeks (and we are four weeks in) I have an expert at my beck and call, someone to bounce ideas off, someone to moan to, someone to share excited moments with. She is paid to respond to me, which is great.

However.

My mentor is also very honest. Calls a spade a spade and wouldn’t choose between two sentences I emailed one day when I was stuck. I had to choose myself, can you believe it 🤣

It was the best thing. My mentor asked me to dig deep and think about which of the two would have a greater emotional impact on the character at that point. Genius. I knew the answer, and went ahead and implemented the correct choice.

I’ve re-written my synopsis with her guidance and now am in the process of researching agents with a view to start submitting from the end of the month. I’m a big girl and am aware initial interest does not always lead to offers of representation, but wow, I’m having fun! I’m also going to find a spike to stick the rejection slips on – Stephen King did that. I read his writing journey in ON WRITING and fell a little bit in love with him to be honest. That book in itself is a masterpiece, let alone his novels, of which I know own six.

If we were to look back to this time last year (which we won’t bother doing) I suspect my blog posts were all about …. well, I can’t even remember. What I do remember from that time is only having 24,000 words!

I’m on my second high speed train of the day, en route to York. Attending another annual event run by the RNA means a chance to catch up with published authors and other hopeful authors-to-be 🖌🥂

Enough about me. What are you all up to?

In the meantime, excuse me while I start this book.

A love poem – Antonio

November 16, 2018

Their time together had become,

A mere chapter of life.

A chapter too short.

And try as he might,

He could not stop the pages from turning.

Each day he woke from a fretful sleep,

She had slipped further back in time.

And the distance strained at his heart,

Like a bow pulled back with an arrow.

Asleep was the only time he could be with her.

Touch her cheek, look into her eyes

So full of love for him they floated against

A blur of background inconsequence.

So close, so precious, so real.

Then wakefulness would drag him back to hell.

Gritty eyes would see the numbers had increased,

Taking him away, leaving him adrift.

Her chapter was back there; back at the beginning.

💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

My poor Antonio .. I am writing a scene in which he is struggling with huge loss. I thought I would treat you to a snippet and poetrise it (I’ve just made up a new word 😃) xx

(Photo credit; Imagefully.com)

It’s better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all 💔

October 22, 2018

We mentioned yesterday,
Re-blogging past posts.

I look through today,
and am drawn to the poems.

In April I had started
to study emotions in writing.

This was an experiment. xx

IdeasBecomeWords

Staring into the traffic, I see nothing nor hear anything.

Yet the swish of tyres on rain-soaked tarmac,

And lights red and white passing outside the cafe

Unregistered sight and sound knock at my conscience.

💫

Our final text chat; I tried so hard to stay strong,

Not weaken, nor fail in my assurance I was fine.

‘Good. I’m glad’. you said.

‘I’m fine, I promise.’ I’d lied.

💫

Now the wretched anguish tears at my insides,

Forcing air out in gasps, I cannot breath.

I will die without you, my strength is leaving,

The pain drags my belly down, the loss is draining.

💫

I hunch forward, arms wrapped around me,

Knowing never again will I feel your squeeze.

You flew last week, to your old life; without me.

You warned me it would happen one day.

💫

The night time is worse; darkness stealing any hope.

I stare…

View original post 30 more words

The travelling bear that was 🐻

July 30, 2018

Skiathos, 2017. A tapas bar on the harbour, under some fir trees.

L’herbe had joined me, as he always did. My travelling bear. The cutest bear, a mini Steiiff almost in design though I’m not sure he was one.

He came to Paris once and watched me sip gin and nibble a salad in a restaurant in the shadows of Le L’ouvre. Night time lighting from the pyramid cast yellow shapes on the puddles in the quadrangle after a shower.

He accompanied me to The Bahamas last July to watch my son throw his javelin.. he doubled as a mascot!

There is a bar in Skiathos called ‘The Blind Dog‘ which is truly brilliant. An English guy meets a Greek girl and together they make beautiful music, him on his accoustic guitar and her singing covering all the classics an far more besides … it is a place to behold and worth visiting the island for!

This was the last place I remember seeing L’herbe. He’d sneaked out of my bag to dance to Queen’s ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’

I miss my little friend, but you know when you love something deeply, you have to let it go? He’s on his adventures somewhere, with someone and I do hope he is happy because he brought me many happy moments.

I’ve allowed myself this post today because I’ve completed my goal of editing of the first 19 chapters and am now ready to send the whole lot off to the two destinations I keep mentioning 👌🏼

(I had 21 chapters but may have been a little tipsy when writing one day as two were repeats of others – most strange – and how embarrassing would that have been to not have spotted this error?!)

Once it has gone, I shall take an official week off writing the WIP, and do housework (have you SEEN this place 😱🙈) alongside my day job. We will wait for the feedback and act upon it as I know the NWS readers will know what they are talking about 💫

Lost and found

May 2, 2018

‘I’ve lost my marbles.’

‘I could have told you that a long time ago, dad.’ I walked across the threadbare carpet, dumping my bags on the chesterfield as dad’s bony backside reversed out from under the gate-legged table.

‘They are really important. I swapped my German collection for these three with Reg.’ His greying face etched with worry stared at me and I was overcome with sympathy. I dropped to my knees next to him.

‘You pop the kettle on, I’ve only got ten minutes before Sophie will be finished.’ I shuffled through the shag-pile rug and could smell the dust as it escaped the orange fibres. ‘What am I looking for?’

‘The alley is the important one love.’ his faint voice muffled by the steam of the kettle.

‘The what?’ I ran my fingers along the edge where the skirting board met the horrendous rug and found it.

‘Alabaster. That’s what its made from and I’ve had it for over half a century. ‘Oh thank you!’ his eyes filled with grateful tears as my arm reached out to him as I emerged back into the room.

‘You Ok dad?’ we sat next to each other; I shoved my bag off the chesterfield and checked the time. The teabags floated in the milky water, leaving trails of their contents across the surface yet to be stirred.

‘It’s the anniversary today.’

‘Ah, Reginald. I’m sorry dad.’ and I placed my arm around his equally bony shoulders as he sniffed once before finally giving in to emotion and his tears dropped on to the sphere in his hand…

The flame is dying

April 15, 2018

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/photo-challenges/awakening/”>Awakening</a&gt;

My 21 year old eyelids flutter open as skylarks chirrup in a far away place. Other sounds filter through the open window. A steady noise up higher in the sky, an easyJet passenger plane returning from Europe on the flight path faintly rumbles across the sky.

More gentle than a breeze, cool air moves across my naked shoulder like the lightest weight silk being drawn across it.

A closer bird, in the blossoming cherry tree in the garden below, sings a dawn chorus of clackety clacks.

Pheasants also stirring make that sudden ruffling to announce their presence, then a squawk in nearby fir woods.

I think about the night before; the lantern of conversation between us flickering softly, at first.

Always there for you I’ve wanted to help in all your troubles. I think I finally see that my help, words, touch, understanding is not enough. You repeat your issues time and time again.

My words now sound repetitive and I realise they did not become absorbed but were allowed to bounce off and around you, left on the ground to die away.

I’ve grown up now and I see I cannot change you to help you. Only you can do that.