Magnetic Poetry: “Saturday Night”

This is for you guys and gals that get to go out tonight and tomorrow night and have fun on the town…I can’t because of stupid work tomorrow. (grumble, grumble.) Had this one on my fridge for a week or so. I kinda love it, if I do say so myself. ;)

wpid-img_20150417_195846631.jpgSaturday Night

We dazzle

and explore

buried our Gods

and every dance

and after smile

was like blue liquid

and wild fire in our bellies

I wanted to say “wild fire in our mouths,” but I couldn’t find the world mouth in my magnetic poetry. Stay safe everyone out tonight!

Happy Weekend!

Haiku: “Margarita Thursday”

Today was kind of an awful day. I was grumpy and tired all day, and on top of that, found out I had to work the weekend too. Which is why me and the honey went to applebees, where I had mashed potatoes, steak and a lovely, perfect margarita which tasted like zen on my tongue, salt in my mouth and fun in my soul. (I may be a little tipsy still.) But, regardless, I think everyday should be Margarita day.

Margarita-newMargarita Thursday

olives, salt and sugar

the perfect margarita

washing away stress

Another thought I had the other day: The good thing about being a writer is that no matter where you are, you can be somewhere else if you want to…(just something to think about.)

Happy Writing people! Thank God, tomorrow is Friday!

A start at Flash-fiction: Smelling Sunshine

Just some musings in the car parking lot while I was waiting for my boyfriend to get out of work this afternoon. I’ve been trying to push my self to write more and more this week and it’s funny how comfortable I seem to be writing in the oddest of places.

Put me in front of my desk at home in my office and suddenly there’s everything else to do and check out. Like youtube. And facebook, and of course, 5 amazingly awesome recipes and articles and gah! I am a terrible person sometimes.

I’m actually pretty proud of this. I’m not sure what it is, exactly, but I’ll call it a start to some flash fiction, which I want to try to write more of. I do consider myself a fiction writer afterall, but…I’m having fun dabbling in a little bit of everything at the moment.

I hope everyone is having a great evening. Happy Writing!


Smelling Sunshine

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I blink, unable to see. The glare from the cars in the parking lot blind me; their busty trunks and fenders glisten, catching the day’s brilliance in colors of blue, gray, white and green. I can hear the brrrrggh of cars running and the rumbling cough and sputter of a car that doesn’t want to start.

The cool air blows through my car window and it smells like exhaust, tires and left-over winter, but its icicle-taste has gone stale in my mouth. Spring is in the air now and the world looks cheery, full of fake promises; like when a person says one thing and means another.

Sure, the world can look great on the outside if it wants to. The sky that robin’s egg blue, with white wispy clouds so high up, you wonder if the scientists up in space can see what you see. But inside and outside, everything and everyone is often something different.

Take this person. She is average height. Average looks with a plain T-shirt with writing on that stretches across her boobs, that says something obscene like “Bob’s Big Ones,” that makes you read what it says and everything else underneath.

Maybe she shouldn’t have left the house in those sweat pants. But she looks tired. Her brown hair is pulled back in a pony tail, and she wears a harassed expression. She’ll thank the cashier who wishes her a great day as she grabs her groceries, but inside she’s really thinking: God, just one more day. Am I really where I’m meant to be?

An old man in the deli misses his late wife of fifty years. A middle-aged woman clutches a tomato in her hand in the middle of the produce and worries her husband is having an affair with his secretary; this is just the color of lipstick that she would wear. A college student with braids, glasses and uni-brow, listens to music and thinks about geology as she grabs at a container of hummus.

Every life’s a puzzle, and every puzzle a piece of the mystery. We are never what we say we are, and that includes the weather. Maybe that’s why I have this feeling that something bad is about to happen. I can just hear my mother right now: Oh, stop, you are being ridiculous. My boyfriend would tell me I am being dramatic.

But it’s there waiting for you. Waiting…Waiting…Waiting for you to….Strike! Just kidding. Waiting for you to wake up and open your eyes and smell the sunshine.

And I’ll see and see, and breathe it in as long as I can.

Life is what that is. Life.

Haiku Poem: “Train”

Been saving this one for a rainy day. Although it’s definitely not raining, having a down sort of night, and the train that runs through my small town in upstate New York just reminded me of it. Trains can sound so lonely sometimes, and then sometimes they are angry, and sometimes they are exciting . But this time it is lonely. Just lonely.

Source: Harrypotter.wikia.com

Source: harrypotter.wikia.com.   And yes, that is the Hogwarts Express.

Late at night leaving

train whistles passed my window

Out of subject, out of mind

Something Told the Wild Geese -YOUR FAVOURITE POEM

amandagrey1:

Ah, something to share with you guys tonight. I really like this one! :)

Originally posted on poetreecreations.org:

GOO

Something told the wild geese
It was time to go,
Though the fields lay golden
Something whispered, “snow.”

Leaves were green and stirring,
Berries, luster-glossed,
But beneath warm feathers
Something cautioned, “frost.”

All the sagging orchards
Steamed with amber spice,
But each wild breast stiffened
At remembered ice.

Something told the wild geese
It was time to fly,
Summer sun was on their wings,
Winter in their cry.

by
Rachel Field

YOUR FAVOURITE POEM SENT IN BY YOU

WHAT’S YOUR’S ?

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Game of Thrones Season 5, Episode 1 Review: The Wars to Come

Warning, full spoilers ahead…

Credit: Fox

Credit: HBO

Game of Thrones’ first episode of season five – wow! Basically, it’s all just one big major catch-up, although there are a few important plot points that are worthy of mentioning. It was intense, yet not a lot happened at the same time. But Game of Thrones usually starts out slow and then builds as the season goes on.

The first scene opens up with Cersei’s story, and a flashback to her childhood where she visits a witch, who predicts her future. In short: Cersei faces some challenges this season. Her father is dead, her brother/lover, Jamie and her are at odds and her powerful position as Queen is being threatened by Margaery Tyrell. Something has to happen in order for her to keep that power. But it looks like Cersei has no desire to be the victim. Meanwhile, we see a scene between Margaery and her brother, the knight of flowers, (naked lover aside), which hints that Margaery doesn’t really intend to go down without a fight, and if she can avoid being the daughter-in-law of Cersei…well, things might just get ugly.

Credit: Fox

Credit: HBO

Tyrion arrives in Pentos with Varys at Illyrio’s palace, (the place where we see Dany and her brother in the very first season.) Tyrion has this great plan to drink himself to death, but Varys reveals that he didn’t save him for that purpose. It is apparent that Varys believes that peace in the realm can come from a Targaryen at the helm and he tells Tyrion of his plans to travel to Meereen and meet Dany.

Credit: Fox

Credit: HBO

In Meereen, Dany and Daario are still lovers, one of the unsullied gets killed while visiting a brothel, and Dany admits that she cannot control her dragons. She also has difficulties settling problems as the Queen, and exchanges some pillow talk with Daario while they drink wine together in bed.

At the wall, Jon Snow trains the young boy who killed Ygritte, (he seems to go a bit hard on him, too, coincidence? I think not). We see a little bit of Sam and Gilly; Gilly is once again worried about being sent away. Stannis Baratheon asks Lord Snow to speak with Mance Rayder about convincing the Wildings to fight for him, in return for pardon and a home on the other side of the wall. Jon knows that Mance won’t bend the knee, but he tries to convince him anyway. He doesn’t and Stannis and the red woman put Mance to death by fire. Jon Snow can’t stand to see a man he respects die in such a gruesome way, and he shoots him with an arrow, so he doesn’t have to suffer the pain and humiliation. As such, the episode ends with Jon Snow incidentally becoming one of the most powerful crows at the wall.

Credit: HBO

Credit: HBO

Other stories that we saw last night: a little bit of Sansa; she is continuing to watch and learn at the side of Petyr Baelish, and we see that Brienne of Tarth seems to have given up her search for the two Stark girls. And poor Pod, her almost squire, has nowhere to go.

Credit: HBO

Credit: HBO

What to look forward in next week’s episode: Arya! Bran is completely absent from this season, of course, but it is interesting to see the remaining Stark’s stories. I’m very curious to see what happens with Jon Snow, and Sansa, especially now that Sansa has finally learned to play the game with everyone else.

Will there really be a meeting between Tyrion and Dany? Worlds are colliding and we love it! There is a big shift of power now that Lord Tywin is gone. Who’s going to be the next big player in this Game of Thrones? Here’s a sneak peek of next week’s episode:

Poem: “Nap time”

Ah, Mondays. Least it’s a warm Monday!

Nap time

The wind blows soft through my window

I can feel the heat of the day outside

so seductive, so smooth

like the down of a baby duckling

like a kitty-cat

like my bed that I’m laying on right now

so familiar, so right

I sniff at my blue-green comforter,

and it smells like sunshine

Like nap time

Oh yes, like nap time

Poem: “Springtime”

This week has seen me exhausted, suffice to say I didn’t get much done, and I went home Thursday from work sick. Friday was a sick day, and I accidentally got a three-day weekend because of it. But for most of the past two days, I have been going from the couch to the bed, to book, to computer and wondering when I’ll get my energy back.

Figures! I wait till Springtime to get sick. Anyway, I’ve been trying to write some flash fiction on here, (as usually) I see myself more of a fiction writer; but I think I’ve tapped into that long-lost poet inside me, because lately, these little, silly, ditties just seem to pop out. I call this one, “Springtime”  I hope you enjoy!

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Springtime

Oh my Goodness, can it be?

Am I really hanging up my winter coat?

Snow and ice are long forgotten

worthy of neither thought or note

It’s time for Spring

and green, green days

and birds that chirp on the windowsill

When have you ever seen a bird do that?

instead of fly and twirl at will?

Birds are lonesome, free, free things

Sometimes I wish I could be one

To sit on a branch and sing all day,

what venture could be even more fun?

But birds they fly and breach the world

sometimes going farther than they should

But it’s okay, they pull back

to wind, to sky, to sun, to woods

What a lonely thought to be a bird

to fly and fly and never land

the spring is fun, the sun is too

But I think, I know, I wouldn’t want to be…

(I’d just as soon have hands.)

Poem: “Scribbles”

Just some silliness. I wrote this on my lunch break today on my phone.

Scribbles

A writer without a notebook,

is like a painter without paint

A poet without ink

A politician who can’t think

A mathematician who can’t solve

A dog who can’t bark

A writer can’t write,

an artist can’t…art?

So I’ll take my fingers

to the keyboard at hand

I’ll write on my phone

and type what I can

It’s an amazing relief

to find time for scribbles

Because writing is voice,

(Although it seems like drivel.)

Happy Writing people! Thank God it is Friday tomorrow! :)

Magnetic Poetry: “Innocence”

Sometimes I worry too much about what other people think, especially, it seems, when it comes to my writing. I should have the freedom to write what I want, and to relish in and enjoy that freedom.

I need to remember I don’t always have to write young adult stuff, I can write adult stuff, too. I am an observer of all things, a speaker of truth, an eavesdropper on conversations, a person who writes poetry about the uncomfortable moments of life and the emotions behind them. I am writer. I can write all things. Anywho, on a kind of unrelated note, a new poem:

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Innocence

Women do magic
    young men blush
breathe sad, broken smiles
and listen        their liquid eyes naked
with longing