Aspiring Author & Life Juggler
You carried me without complaint,
Through mud and miles you’ve been a saint.
Your heaving ribs I now will rest,
My wound is deep, no longer the best
Partner to you, my trusted steed,
Colleague, transport, friend indeed.
(Photo credit – Telegraph today showing new statue in Romsey’s Memorial Park)
OMG, please check this out,
Started to log my daily wordcount!
NaNoWriMo is now a household name,
Even Man of the Woods uses the same –
– without laughing.
🖌
The first draft had ceased before,
At nearly a thousand times twenty four.
The chats in October did start,
Reminding me of 2017 when my heart –
– told me to write!
🖌
This time I know what I’m doing,
Whereas last year I was merely canoeing.
Without a paddle or a plan,
Or research; what a sham –
– but we are all new once
🖌
I now type at a dedicated desk.
Using a bedroom, the house has one less.
My buddha and candles patiently wait,
For my windows of time; don’t be late –
Anytime is good it seems
🖌
3rd Nov and the word-count is growing,
Manuscript now 38,000 and I’m knowing.
Which scenes need more padding,
And which never had their cladding –
– I’m adding, I hope, depth.
🖌
So a daily word goal of 1,666,
Is achievable through a quality mix.
November 1st produced 1,504. on 2nd came 1,195
Today another 2,766 and I’m feeling alive –
– don’t compare me to you (if you’re producing more!)
🖌
I am excited for tomorrow the 4th,
It would be fun to see some more 4s.
To get that total to exceed 40,000, wow!
I’ll never have seen that before; I wonder how –
– I will celebrate?
🖌
Another trip to Tescos probably. These glasses were for sale. I didn’t buy any but they reminded me Bond 🖤
How are you NaNo guys doing?
xxx
I was reminded today with a gift from nature,
Of your tender touches across the years.
One for every millimetre of my skin.
Memories float away on a breeze,
I try and catch them; closing my eyes,
Picturing your presence, feeling the warmth.
That first kiss we shared was a silken dream,
Entrancing my being forever in your world.
When I think of what was,
There is a shudder,
An awakening.
Twofold it engulfs me,
Excitement of memories,
Fear of realisation,
That it is no more.
How do we know,
When the last time
Is the last time.
We don’t.
.. I am left wanting it back.
I wake each day with the memory of your touch before it drifts away, a feather on a breeze.
I hold onto that final hug encircling me into your very core, the safest place on earth.
Having fun with Norm2’s challenge …
People walk under my arch
between my bricks which have stood
for over a hundred years.
*
Parents sending teens off to Uni
Grandparents visiting London
with children excited with fears.
*
Yet-to-be lovers
meeting for the first time
Long-term friends reuniting.
*
Red brick archways
from an era long ago
Seen it all before
My shoulders hurt from the strain of my tied-up hands behind my back.
The ropes cut deeply into my skin, my wrists have become numb.
I wait in the dust, watching the motes move slowly through the shafts of light.
This light, it moves steadily around the room, as the sun moves across the sky.
Four days I think. Four sets of shafts of light. A billion motes.
When will you come to save me, to find me. You promised, you told me.
I believed you when I went with them. I trusted you, in your armour.
