Death in a vase

Flowers, withering without water.

Drying, dying, none to care.

Petals dropping, one by one,

Dying, drying, abhorrent, uncared.

The slightest breeze and several fall

Dried, died, yet still fragrant.

Their perfume fills only the imagination.

Reality is the smell of stagnation.

The aroma of death,

By midday sun or moonlit night

They fall, dead, dry, parched.

A flower head bends, droops,

As if looking down,

searching for the water.

Leaves, curl and crisp

Pale to the eye, pallid to the touch

Drying, perishing, bleached of colour.

Stalk, brown and shrivelled.

Crisp to touch, hard, unforgiving.

This is my life, my love, my death.

My very existence, displayed in a vase.

Arranged with care and an eye for form.

Such beauty once was there

Now dead, so dead, so dead. So very dead.

This is what I dread.

©Jospeph R Mason 2021

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Eugi’s Weekly Prompt – Petals – July 29, 2021 – Eugi’s Causerie (amanpan.com)

The Glider.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Silence, gliding through the air.

Wings outstretched, not really there,

Thermals take me up and up

High into the atmosphere.

Soaring to heights where the air is thin

Tweaking aileron, tinkering fin.

Lost in a sky of azure blue,

I wish that you could be here too

To see the sights that I can see

Up in my glider, you, and me.

To see the fields a patchwork brown

With tiny people in a tiny town.

And then descending, down we glide

Like tiny children on a slide

We giggle, we chortle, we laugh with joy.

Back to the ground with the hobbledehoy.

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Eugi’s Weekly Prompt – Soaring – July 22, 2021 – Eugi’s Causerie (amanpan.com)

Writing scenes ahead of time…Seeing the future!

Another interesting article I thought worth a share.

Have you ever worked on a story, then all of a sudden you have an idea for something that will happen several chapters ahead? As I’ve said before, I always know the ending of my stories. Although sometimes it changes slightly, but it stays in the same ballpark. I’ve written several scenes ahead on my […]

Writing scenes ahead of time…Seeing the future!

What Is “Bad” Writing?

I saw this article and it resonated well with me……

Today on Twitter, someone called out an author for his “bad writing” and, as an author of many years with five published novels, I began to wonder what that term meant.  Was the story not logical or appealing or was it more a grammatical problem?  The tweeter stated that had the story been properly edited, […]

What Is “Bad” Writing?

Happiness.

Happiness is not on the face of a clown,

They always have a permanent frown.

Happiness is something you just have inside.

But in people I know, it knows how to hide.

So, give us a smile, no, give us a grin,

Showing you’re happy, is not yet a sin,

Big hearty laughs, so your wobbly bits wobble.

Laughing out loud so it makes the mind boggle.

Like sand in your toes and the wind in your hair.

Joy to the world like you’ve laughter to share.

Pleasure, delight, big thrills, and elation.

Let’s spread it like marmite across our great nation.

So, love it or loathe it, let’s spread it around.

Let happiness, joy, and laughter abound.

Photo by Mary Taylor on Pexels.com

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Eugi’s Weekly Prompt – Happiness – June 24, 2021 – Eugi’s Causerie (amanpan.com)

A Celebration of the Confusion of Adolescence.

22nd June 2021

Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

Let’s celebrate the celibate, those who have not cherished,

Or lived, or lain in sinful pose, or loved before they perished?

Remember those who cannot love, because great pain it causes,

Who hesitate at every touch with long and stiffened pauses.

Forget not those who live to love and love to live enraptured,

Whose very breath, and every thought, through each desire is captured.

Who’s bodies quiver at every touch, perspire at every thought.

Even though they think it’s wrong and shameful if they’re caught.

Let us not dwell too long on this, of lust and things impure.

Instead, consider purity, and how we shall endure.

The former things of which we spoke, put them behind us now,

For growing up is difficult, but we’ll get through somehow.

As adolescence dawns, hair in armpits, face and places,

We fancy boys, we fancy girls, and our voices change to basses.

But we’ll get through, we always do, without every asking mother.

Just take it all in hand you see, just like every other.

©Joseph R Mason 2021

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