Studying Vocabulary

I was inspired to write this short story while perusing lists of odd vocabulary words.  I'd tell you what the word is, but that might spoil the story.  You'll know the word when you see it. That's all I can tell you.  Enjoy!

Studying Vocabulary

Open textbooks littered the kitchen table, but that didn’t stop Savannah and her best friend Will from binging on snacks.  An open package of Oreos was perched on Will’s calculus book, and Savannah’s bag of potato chips sat beside her vocabulary worksheets.

She reached into the bag only to have her fingers scrape the bottom.  A thin film of oily residue coated her fingertips when she withdrew her hand.  “Darn it,” she mumbled.  “There’s only a tittynope left.”

Will spluttered, and Oreo crumbs flew from his mouth, coating his homework.  “What?  There’s a  . . . what?”

“A tittynope,” Savannah replied with a smile.  “It means ‘a small residual of something that is leftover.’”  She held up the vocabulary sheet from which she’d read the definition.  “I’m studying my vocabulary like I’m supposed to be.”

Will looked down, noticing the mess that he’d made of his work.  “I hate you.  There’s no way you weren’t trying to get a reaction out of me.”

She shrugged.  “It’s just one of the many reasons why I love vocabulary.”

Execution

I decided recently to try writing drabbles.  It seemed like an interesting challenge.  After all, how does one tell a story with exactly 100 words?  You certainly have to choose your words with care.

I used a random word generator to provide the inspiration for this piece.  The word I got was EXECUTION, and what follows is the story born from that inspiration.  Enjoy!

Execution

“Any final words?”  The booming voice echoes through the courtyard, and the murmur of the crowd subsides.

I stand tall and proud.  I can only hope that my voice remains steady as well.  “I am not a traitor.  You are.  Every one of you who refuses to stand against the occupation of our nation is betraying what we once held most dear.  If it takes my death to show you that, then it’s a price well paid.”

There’s a moment of absolute silence.

“Aim!” 

Though blindfolded, I picture the barrel of the gun that will swiftly bring about my end.

The ABCs of Writing: B is for Balance

I know I'm posting this a little late in the day, but it's still Wednesday, so it works.

Here is my second post for the ABCs of Writing.  You can find the first one, A is for Audience, by following the link.

B is for Balance

I’ve heard people say that as a writer, one must be adept at balancing the demands of writing and everyday life.  You know the routine.

-Make breakfast

-Make lunch

-Make dinner

-Laundry

-Take kid(s) to school

-Dishes

-Vacuuming

Then there are the demands of writing.  The inspirations that hit you full force when you don’t have the spare time to nurture them properly.  The effort that goes into developing a world with rich characters.  Pounding out that rough draft that you know will soon have you pulling your hair out as you begin editing.

Oh, and you also need to sleep at some point.  At least in theory.

When I sit down to write, I find my mind wondering to the things that I didn’t get done elsewhere (you mean I have to fold the laundry too?), or occasionally blanking out because I somehow didn’t budget enough sleep the night before.

Oh, wait, there’s no “somehow” about it.  I know why I didn’t get enough sleep last night.  Sick kids don’t take care of themselves.  Or I simply wanted to talk to my husband when he gets home from work at 1am.  Or stories were swirling about in my mind, driving sleep away from me.

It could be any of the above reasons, or more, that sleep isn’t always abundant.

Balance, balance, balance.  Where in the world can I find some balance?  Maybe I need to invest in a scale.

That reminds me.  I’m a Libra.  My sign is the scales.  Which I find funny, because my brain is often more imbalanced than a political primary.  (Not that I believe in astrology, because I don’t.  I can simply appreciate the humor in this analysis.)

As a writer, my brain is subject to the whims of creativity.  At best, I feel I can only cling to the spinning world of my life, accomplish what I can, do my best by the people in it, and hope I don’t get flung off without accomplishing something that I’m proud of.  Maybe if I can achieve that, it’ll mean that I led a balanced enough life.

In the meantime, a relaxing cup of tea may help slow things down for a bit.

Family.

Writing.

Life.

Don’t forget to breathe.  (Unless you’re standing too close to a skunk or sweaty socks, of course.  Then by all means, inhale wisely.)

The ABCs of Writing: A is for Audience

I have decided to try something different for my Wednesday posts.  I want to cover my ABCs of writing.  This is my attempt to take a humorous look at how I respond to various aspects of writing.  I hope to do each letter of the alphabet, so this will be going on for awhile.

I hope you enjoy!

A is for Audience

I sit in front of my laptop and open notebook, a sense of dread spreading through my limbs.  I’ve only ever written for myself.  I have always written what I want to write, with the obvious exception of class assignments, of course.  When I’m writing for myself, there is no pressure.  Only freedom.

Then I heard a word that made me shudder.  Audience.  If you ever want to be successful in the writing biz, you need to know who your readers are, who your intended audience is.  Sure, there are examples of writers who didn’t take this into consideration and became wildly successful anyway, but I have to face facts.  My luck simply isn’t that good.

The panic sets in as I wonder who in the world would want to read anything I write anyway.  Who do I want to reach?  Who do I want to entertain?  Which audience is least likely to eat me alive?

I can’t deny this much.  The idea of having any audience both excites and terrifies me.  If I have an audience, it also means that I have expectations placed upon me.  People who may be angry at the choices I make.  I mean, have you seen angry fangirls?  Or infuriated fanboys?  Yikes!

A piece of advice that I’ve heard before comes to mind.  Picture them in their underwear.  That will make the audience seem less intimidating.  Granted, this is advice given to those speaking in public, but it could still apply.  Right?

Then I pause.  Following this advice could potentially be creepy.  Definitely not the kind of technique a children’s writer should employ.

No.

I mustn’t let my mind get off track.  I’ll only freak myself out if I continue along this track of thought.

Fine.  There’s only one solution to my predicament.  My audience is . . . me.  Surely there are others like me out there, and maybe they’re looking to read the kind of story I can tell. 

Right?

Hmm.  I decide that I’m going to operate off of this assumption.  If I don’t, I’ll never get anything done.

A Heartfelt Letter to a Lovely Teacher

I knew I wanted to post something today, but the time got away from me.  This was in part due to the fact that I have kids and other demands that occupy a fair bit of my time.  It was also due in part to the fact that I was procrastinating.

Yes.  I was procrastinating.  We are all guilty of it from time to time, and perhaps more often than we would like to admit.

Then I thought, hey, I can use my procrastination as a source of inspiration.  I started thinking about being a kid and putting off homework.  I was always a good student, but that didn't stop me from leaving things until the last minute.

Anyway, I envisioned a kid doing everything he could to avoid doing his homework.  This little story is the result.  Enjoy!

A Heartfelt Letter to a Lovely Teacher

Dear Ms. Meade,

I am writing this letter to you under the most grievous of circumstances.  Though I eagerly anticipated working tirelessly through the night to complete the writing assignment for your wonderful class (which also happens to be my absolute favorite class, by the way), I was rendered incapable of doing so by the cruel wheels of fate.

After eating dinner, I settled in my room to do my assignment.  My notebook was open, an assortment of pencils ready to go.  Then my walkie talkie, which I use to talk to my best friend Bill who lives next door, started to emit the strangest sounds I’ve ever heard in my long fourteen years of living.  I looked around the room, eager to locate the source of the interference so I could get to work on my assignment.  That’s when I saw it.

A beam of glowing blue light shot through my bedroom window.  I sat there, stunned into silence as a life-size hologram of the President of the Interstellar Alliance materialized before me.  Of course, I didn’t know who she was until she introduced herself.  She told me that she came all the way from Pollux to ask me for my help.  The fate of a dozen worlds hung in the balance, and due to a special skill that only I have (I would go into more detail about it here, but it’s a matter of interplanetary security now) I was the only person who could save the day.

Believe me when I say that I agonized over my decision to put the lives of countless billions of people before completing my homework on time.  I genuinely wanted to fulfill my obligations as a student, but I also acknowledged that I needed to fulfill a more pressing set of obligations.

I’ll tell you, the job she needed me to do wasn’t easy.  I was up until well past midnight completing my vital task.  I cannot go into too many details, as the political landscape of the Interstellar Alliance has been strained as of late.  Were I to accidentally divulge too much, my slip-up could contribute to the unraveling of the peace treaties that bind these worlds together in peace and prosperity.  That could lead to war, invariably nullifying all of my previous efforts.  Clearly I could not allow that.

You are a wonderful educator and an all-around good person, so I am certain you can understand why I chose as I did.  In the real world, the needs of the many outweigh my need to get a good grade on a single English paper.  I can only hope that you kindly allow me the opportunity to make up for my failure in the future.

Sincerely,

Simon Griswald

Dear Mr. Griswald,

I can only say that I found your letter most fascinating.  I have been an educator for many years, and I have seen some interesting excuses for late work in my time.  This is perhaps one of the most eloquent and creative excuses for failing to turn in an assignment that I have ever seen.  I am impressed by the way you carefully worded your letter to elicit a specific response in your reader.  That takes skill.  It takes thought.  Also, judging by the length of your letter, it also took you a bit of time.

Perhaps I should make a suggestion that may help you in the future.  Next time, you could try channeling your creativity and your undeniable way with words into the actual assignment.  It probably would have taken you the same amount of time to do so as it took you to write this letter.

Sincerely,

Ms. Meade

P.S. I can easily see you going into a career in writing or politics.  You could go a long way with your talent.

Inspiring Song Lyrics

Hey everyone!  I'm in need of some inspiration, so I decided to go through some song lyrics that have always spoken to me.  Here I'll share a few lines that mean something to me. Music has always been an inspiration for me, so maybe these lines will say something to you as well.

"I'll make it to the moon if I have to crawl . . ." 

-"Scar Tissue" by the Red Hot Chili Peppers

"Taste the memories running from my eyes."

-"Under a Glass Moon" by Dream Theater

"Face each day with both eyes open wide/And try to give, don't keep it all inside."

-"The Answer Lies Within" by Dream Theater

"If we could, say that forever/Is more than just a word."

-"Everything Changes" by Staind

"And you run and you run to catch up with the sun but it's sinking/Racing around to come up behind you again/The sun is the same in a relative way, but you're older/Shorter of breath and one day closer to death."

-"Time" by Pink Floyd

There's a mixture of positive and negative feeling in these words, but they all make me think.

Now, I wanted to share an excerpt from a song that means a lot to me to go with the lines I selected above.  Unfortunately, I couldn't decide on an individual part of the song to share, because all of it speaks to me.  This was the first song to play at my wedding reception, and I loved it before that.

                             "Nothing Else Matters" by Metallica

So close no matter how far
Couldn't be much more from the heart
Forever trusting who we are
And nothing else matters

Never opened myself this way
Life is ours, we live it our way
All these words I don't just say
And nothing else matters

Trust I seek and I find in you
Every day for us something new
Open mind for a different view
And nothing else matters

Never cared for what they do
Never cared for what they know
But I know

So close no matter how far
Couldn't be much more from the heart
Forever trusting who we are
And nothing else matters

Never cared for what they do
Never cared for what they know
But I know

Never opened myself this way
Life is ours, we live it our way
All these words I don't just say
And nothing else matters

Trust I seek and I find in you
Every day for us something new
Open mind for a different view
And nothing else matters

Never cared for what they say
Never cared for games they play
Never cared for what they do
Never cared for what they know
And I know

So close no matter how far
Couldn't be much more from the heart
Forever trusting who we are
No nothing else matters

Thanks for allowing me to share these inspiring lyrics with you.

Which words, whether they come from a poem, a song, or a book, inspire you most?

Weird and Wonderful Words

I decided today to share a few words with bizarre meanings.  Why?  I love weird words!  These words may never be useful in everyday life (unless you want to sound pretentious or pompous), though they could always come up in a crossword puzzle.

Ktenology-the science of putting people to death

Dactylion-the end of your middle finger

Biblioclasm-the act of ceremoniously destroying books

Hobbledehoy-an awkward youth/teenager

Petrichor-the smell of rain falling on dry earth

Mesonoxian-pertaining to midnight

Nudiustertian-the day before yesterday

Kakorrhaphiophobia-fear of failure

These are just a few of the crazy and interesting words that language has to offer. Would you like to share any obscure or unusual words that you particularly like?

How to Deal With a Breakup

The prompt words I'm using today came from Little Gothic Horrors.  Those words are cheesecake and tripped.

For some reason, the word cheesecake put me immediately in mind of trying to nurse post-breakup wounds.  It's been a long time since I've had to recover from a breakup, but I do remember that cheesecake helps.

How to Deal With a Breakup

We all have those moments when we’re worn down and vulnerable, and those moments often end with us feeling humiliated by something we did while we were at our worst.  No one needs to deal with humiliation while nursing serious emotional wounds, so here is a little helpful advice.

Rule 1: Have a reliable friend come over to your house.  Tell that friend to keep you away from the phone at all costs.  You don’t want to make a fool of yourself.

Rule 2: Make sure you have a bottle of wine on hand.  Any alcohol will do, but at least with wine, the added sense of sophistication will help you feel somewhat better about yourself.

Rule 3: Don’t forget about desert.  Foods such as ice cream, cheesecake, and cookies will help to sooth frazzled nerves.

Rule 4: No matter how many glasses of wine you’ve had, or how many bowls of ice cream you’ve gone through, do not get it into your head that making milk shakes with wine instead of milk is a good idea.  Yes, you’ve been consuming them separately, but this does not confirm their compatibility.

Rule 5: Don’t only talk about your ex.  Yes, you need to vent, but you also need moments of levity to pick up your mood.  Try reminiscing with your friend about the time you both got drunk and tripped over the perfectly level sidewalk on the way to get misspelled tattoos, or about the time your friend helped you break into your house through your bedroom window only to discover that you actually did have your house key the entire time.

Rule 6: If something breaks, don’t try to fix it.  If you’re at the point of the evening where you’re breaking things, you are in no shape to fix them.  If you try, you’ll only break it worse.  Mend your broken heart and hangover before trying to fix anything else.

Rule 7: If you do slip up and do something humiliating, at least make sure your blood alcohol level is sufficient to erase the embarrassing memories.

Rule 8: Be sure you’re prepared to treat a pounding headache in the morning.

Strange Sighting

Last week I called on my readers to submit a noun and verb, or a prompt, to inspire a story.  I got a great response.  I couldn't use them all, but I selected the prompts of a few great bloggers.  I selected noun and verb pairs from Little Gothic Horrors, Timothy Brannan, Alex J. Cavanaugh, and randi lee.  I also used the prompt provided by writerlysam.

I tried to keep it short so it would be easy to read.  I hope you enjoy, because I tried to have a little fun with it!

Strange Sighting

The strangest experience of my life began with me sitting in front of my computer.  Night was falling.  I had the window open to let in the cool breeze.  It had been raining most of the day, leaving droplets of water glistening on the grass.  The pungent, earthy smell greeted my nostrils, enlivening my senses.

Those senses, also magnified by mega doses of coffee, sent my fingers into a frenzy.  I’d frequently written tales of rocket ships hurtling into the dark depths of space, and without fail I weaved narratives so bizarre that people close to me felt I couldn’t be entirely in my right mind.

I think they’re right about that, by the way.

Yet this frenzy of ideas seemed more intense than those that came before.  I envisioned an extraterrestrial race of wanders, meandering through the cosmos.  In the course of dodging a massive solar flare, these aliens damaged their ship and had to make an emergency landing on earth for repairs.

When I took a spare moment to glance out the window, I froze.  I didn’t expect to see them, considering “they” shouldn’t really exist.  They were supposed to be figments of my imagination, after all.  Yet there “they” were, right in front of my eyes, proving that either my assumptions about the universe were wrong, or that I’d accidentally ingested some kind of hallucinogenic   compound.  The aliens and their ship, just as I had envisioned them, were sitting in my backyard.  The ethereal glow and the soft background hum of the ship filled my senses now.

“Wow,” I muttered to myself.  “Either this is a strange coincidence and I’m about to make first contact, or I need to see a doctor.”  I paused as I considered my options.  “Or I could just keep writing.”

Deciding on the last option, I turn back to the keyboard.

*               *               *               *               *

I need more prompts for next week!  If you'd like to submit a noun and a verb, or an entire sentence to prompt my creativity, submit them in the comments!

A Call for Reader Participation

I've been thinking, and I'd like to try something different with my Wednesday posts.  Instead of using random word generators to come up with my inspiration, I'd like to turn to my readers.

Starting this week, I'll be asking you for random words.  I will need you to provide the following in the comments.

1 noun

1 verb

OR

One short sentence setting up a scenario.

You can also specify whether you'd rather have me write a poem or a piece of flash fiction based on the words or scenario you provide.  If you don't specify which you'd like, I'll decide which I would rather do.

I will choose one comment and post the resulting piece of flash fiction or poetry the following week.  I'll also link back to the person who provided the inspiration for the week's piece.

I want to try this, because there are a lot of creative people out there, and the idea of interacting with all of you during the creative process sounds more fun. Feel free to get crazy with your suggestions, if you'd like.  Nothing is too crazy for me!

Revision Strategies

Today, I wanted to talk a little bit about one step in the writing process. Revision.  This is the step where we polish our words so they can shine in the world.  Or at least, we hope this will be the case.

For me, revision is the most difficult part of the writing process.  The fevered excitement of creating that first draft has faded.  You know that first draft isn't perfect, and if you're going to turn it into something you can truly be proud of, you need to dive back in with a critical eye.  You need to understand which parts of your story work.  You need to understand were the weaknesses are.  You need to see how each scene contributes to the story as a whole.  Without those crucial pieces of knowledge, you cannot tell your story in the most effective way possible.

I can honestly say that I've always struggled a bit with revision.  It can be difficult to motivate myself to revise, because I want to tell new stories.  I also don't know where to start.  If you jump in without a plan, it can all be a bit overwhelming.  I'll share my current revision strategy with all of you.  It seems to be the best method for me thus far.

1. Have someone you trust read your work.  They will be more able to point out the flaws you've missed, because you're too close to the project.
2. After having stepped away from the project for a few days, go back and give it a thorough read through.  Have a notebook available and make notes as you go.  Ask yourself what the goal of each scene is and how it relates to the overall story, how well you think you accomplished the goal of the scene, and what changes you think you might like to make.  If you find the scene doesn't actually contribute to the overall plot or character development, consider getting rid of it altogether.  You may like a scene, but that doesn't make it essential.
3. Begin your rewrite with those notes in hand.  You may come up with new ideas as you go (and that certainly isn't a bad thing), but it will help to have a reminder of the issues you need to address.
4. Once the rewrite is complete, have someone else take a look at it.  It's important to know whether the changes you've made are successful ones.
5. If all has gone well, your next look at the story will be a quick polish where you look for grammatical and spelling issues.  Make sure you've made the most effective word choices you can.

Keep in mind, steps 1-4 may need to be repeated more than once before you proceed to the final polish.  This is not a pleasant fact to face, but if you're passionate about writing and truly want to do this, you may need to confront that reality head on.

Image courtesy of Idea go
 / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Anyway, I know there's no single correct method, but this seems to be the one that works for me.  It gives me an organized plan of attack, and I need that.

Do you enjoy the revision process, or do you dread it?  What method do you use?  Do you have any handy revision tips?

Ruminations

Today I decided to experiment with a little poetry.  This is far more free form than I typically write, so I have no idea how it holds up.  Still, I decided to share it with you anyway.  It's a commentary on many of the bad things I see going on in the world.  While I love many of the things humanity has to offer, we undoubtedly have a dark side.  I've been thinking a lot about that this week with May Monster Madness going on.

Feel free to let me know what you think.

Ruminations

Skimming through the accounts

of our bloodied history

I wonder how we made it

this far, our heads held high

as we neglect the

carnage at our feet.

An arch built up to touch

the sky, a gateway to

a new future, before

we even bothered to learn from

our own mistakes.

Hands toil away, individual minds

aflame with good intentions

and noble ideas

while the thirsts of the mob

must be quenched by scapegoats

and lies, blame passed on to

those who cannot speak up

loud enough to be heard over

the shouts of anger and revenge

for slights imagined,

so oft repeated and nurtured

that they seem to be real.

Fear is long-lived,

but while wisdom and humanity

live on in the minds of some

to grow and sprout new life,

hope for our future remains

as the candle in the storm

that flickers, but does not fade

from existence.

The Technomancer's Spectacles

I thought I'd return to my Worldly Wednesday posts by writing a little flash fiction inspired by some random words.  This time I decided to take a random word and a random object.

Random Word: performed

Random Object: spectacles

Here's the result.  I hope you enjoy it!

The Technomancer’s Spectacles

A hush falls over the auditorium as the technomancer takes center stage.  He walks, legs long and lanky, with the kind of confidence one only finds through years of training and practice.  And indeed, this particular technomancer is known throughout the world.  He has performed for kings and queens, presidents, dictators, and statesmen from virtually every nation.

It took you forever to get tickets to this show.  You spent far too much money, the equivalent of several months of rent in fact, to snag two seats in the front row.  Why wouldn’t you?  The technomancer can make anything happen.  He can show you the most impossible fantasies, even make you a part of them.  Through the mingling of science and a hunger for magic, the technomancer can show you dreams you don’t even know you have.  Though you are a nobody compared to some of the people in the audience, you were willing to make the necessary sacrifices to make it here for those reasons.

At least, you thought you were.

Though the show has been sold out for months, the seat to your left is empty.  This was never supposed to be the case.  Your significant other, the love of your life who stuck with you through everything, is not at your side like you planned.  The tragic accident was enough to tear a hole in the fabric of your being, but it was ultimately reduced down to something so mundane and cold in its analysis that your brain wants to reject it: brake failure.

Brake failure might have been the catalyst, but those tiny words can hardly contain within them the reality of what you’ve gone through.  They don’t hint at the horror that met you in that hospital when you went to identify the body.  Little remained of the person who had been, and still is, your whole world.

You don’t want to admit the awful truth, though you can’t chase it from your mind.  You knew those brakes were going bad, but you purchased these tickets anyway, and afterwards could no longer afford to fix them.

Now that empty seat haunts you as it reflects and magnifies the emptiness you feel on the inside.  You could have sold that seat to make back the money, but allowing a stranger to occupy the space you intended for the one you loved and lost seemed even worse.

The technomancer’s jacket is a checkered pattern of moving images, like mini television screens.  His fiber optic hair sets the stage ablaze with shifting colors.  His eyes are circumscribed by bejeweled spectacles that glimmer in the light.

You try to lose yourself in the show, unable to forget that you unwittingly gave up everything for this.  Yet the simulacrum of magic cannot seem to touch the hunger inside you, and the bitterness begins to grow.

Partway through the show, the technomancer removes his spectacles and launches into a speech about the wonders they can perform.  “These frames, these lenses, possess a remarkable power.  They can remove you from your life and bless you with a new perspective.”  He looks out into the audience, and his eyes quickly fall on you.  With a small wave, he says, “Why don’t you come up here and give them a try?  You look like you could use a change of situation.”

You numbly take the stage, silently wondering how this could make anything better.  When he asks for your name, you perfunctorily provide it.  With that formality out of the way, he slides the frames onto your face.

The world around you seems fuzzy through these lenses, and at first you’re not sure why.  It takes several moments for you to focus, and when you do, several faded afterimages meet your gaze.  Eyes.  Multiple sets of eyes stare back at you, and the shock makes you forget your body.

The technomancer, who has been talking with flourish all this time, whips the spectacles away from your face, and the room spins around you.  You wonder why the room continues to move in odd directions, and why you seem to have no control over those movements.

Then things finally settle, and you’re shocked to see your own face staring back at you.  Your body is stiff, and your eyes are vacant.  Nothing remains inside, and you cannot help but wonder if this is how you’ve appeared to the world since the brakes failed.

Endeavor

This week I started out with the word ENDEAVOR.  This is the poem that resulted from that inspiration.

Endeavor

To endeavor is to dream

the dreams that seem too big,

to push back the boundaries

behind which we live.

To endeavor is to explore

the limits of who we are,

to embrace new possibilities

and seek out mysteries afar.

To endeavor is to hope

that we can behave better,

that we can act wisely

and our time, we won’t fetter.

To endeavor is to believe

that reaching for the gold,

while not always practical,

paves way for rewards untold.

Abandoned

Today I used a combination of things to inspire a poem.  Awhile back I had an image of an abandoned railroad track that I jotted down in my notebook.  I also drew upon the word MADNESS, which came to me via a random word generator.

Here's the result.  I hope you enjoy it.

Abandoned

An abandoned railroad track,

rusted and overgrown with time,

Image courtesy of Sura Nualpradid
 / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

fades into the mists of some

unknown madness.

Chilled winds swirl and consume

the delicate flesh of humanity.

Warmth ebbs away, leaving only

shivering bone.

This path, once lush and vibrant

echoes with the memories of

long lost dreams that have since

crumbled to dust.

Stories once passed down through

generations with reverence were

replaced with broken phrases of

no consequence.

For who had time to share tales

of wonder and adventure when the

daily need to fulfill demands of

vanity ran high?

The storytellers once lingered,

eager to share, but no one came,

and thus came the final end as

curiosity lay down to die.

I'll Build Me a Palace

Today I thought I'd write a poem inspired by a word.  The word I selected was PALACE.  I hope you enjoy what I wrote!

I’ll Build Me a Palace

Give me a chance, and I’ll

build me a palace of dreams

where all things are possible

and nothing is quite as it seems.

Image courtesy of sattva
 / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Give me the time, and I’ll

build me a palace of lights

where shadows are banished

and wrongs turned into rights.

Give me the love, and I’ll

build me a palace of stars

where discoveries abound

and hatred leaves no scars.

Please give me a chance.

Give yourself permission.

Everyone needs to know

they can improve their position.