"5am.
A cup of coffee on the desk.
A cigarette in one hand
and a pencil in the other,
writing down everything that comes into mind,
so it's empty to fill with everything
that comes the next day.
Insomnia sucks.
Nothing to do but sit and wonder.
and contemplate everything that I can't sort out during the day
because there's too much going on.
It's amazing how many thoughts you can fit
into a little girl's mind.
So I continue to sit,
staring out of the window,
as the first morning bird starts to wake,
and I write,
so my mind is once again clear,
ready to take on the next day..
Insomnia sucks,
but it does have its perks."
Wednesday 17 December 2008
Wednesday 10 December 2008
Mind Block by Emma Eaton
"No inspiration.
Sat here waiting.
Trying to think,
but mind goes blank.
Imagery missing.
Words have no meaning.
The pen stays still,
page still blank,
mind still empty.
Thoughts have stopped,
passion all gone.
Creativity failed.
Heart won't unlock.
Just another day,
with a mental mind block."
Sat here waiting.
Trying to think,
but mind goes blank.
Imagery missing.
Words have no meaning.
The pen stays still,
page still blank,
mind still empty.
Thoughts have stopped,
passion all gone.
Creativity failed.
Heart won't unlock.
Just another day,
with a mental mind block."
Waiting by Emma Eaton
"Waiting.
The familiar feeling returning,
leaving my head spinning,
disoriented.
The anticipation is overwhelming
as I lay here unable to sleep,
but unable to move.
I wonder...
The toxins are making their way through my system as I succumb to the unknown, the anticipated expectation of what might not even happen.
Just, waiting."
The familiar feeling returning,
leaving my head spinning,
disoriented.
The anticipation is overwhelming
as I lay here unable to sleep,
but unable to move.
I wonder...
The toxins are making their way through my system as I succumb to the unknown, the anticipated expectation of what might not even happen.
Just, waiting."
Monday 8 December 2008
Lights Camera Action by Emma Eaton
"The spotlight's on you
as you stand there smiling,
with perfect hair,
perfect makeup,
the perfect disguise.
People believe you are truely as narcissistic as you appear, even egotistical.
What a great character you have become.
The camera lies,
as inside you feel alone,
unwanted,
flawed.
But no one can know this
so you step back onto your centre stage
with the spotlight glaring,
looking happy
& flawless,
continuing to smile
and pose,
like the actress you have become.
Your life is just an act,
and once again you put on your facade,
as tomorrow is your next scene.
And the alarm clocks calls,
"Lights.. Camera.. Action.."
as you stand there smiling,
with perfect hair,
perfect makeup,
the perfect disguise.
People believe you are truely as narcissistic as you appear, even egotistical.
What a great character you have become.
The camera lies,
as inside you feel alone,
unwanted,
flawed.
But no one can know this
so you step back onto your centre stage
with the spotlight glaring,
looking happy
& flawless,
continuing to smile
and pose,
like the actress you have become.
Your life is just an act,
and once again you put on your facade,
as tomorrow is your next scene.
And the alarm clocks calls,
"Lights.. Camera.. Action.."
Christmas Eve & Autumn Forest by Jay Barnham
christmas eve-
I'm scared, silent movements on the roof,
down the chimney,
snow compressing to the floor,
Noises trailing,
out your window, in your house,
on the stairs, at your door, in your room,
he knows when you are sleeping
and awake.
Autumn Forest-
Her long smokey brown hair drapes along the leaves, crisp and dead on the soil. Clothes to camoflauge herself with the browns of the autumn forest, no sound comes from her lips, just a whistle like the wind. Her face was soft, beaming brown eyes and pink full lips. She grasps books and reads under trees, sitting in the comfort of crimpling leaves. Small feat with burgundy doll shoes and wooden bangles running along her wrists. Taking small leaps and light steps, controlling her movements around the forest she loves. She is tired, wants to leave, but her time is not up yet.
I'm scared, silent movements on the roof,
down the chimney,
snow compressing to the floor,
Noises trailing,
out your window, in your house,
on the stairs, at your door, in your room,
he knows when you are sleeping
and awake.
Autumn Forest-
Her long smokey brown hair drapes along the leaves, crisp and dead on the soil. Clothes to camoflauge herself with the browns of the autumn forest, no sound comes from her lips, just a whistle like the wind. Her face was soft, beaming brown eyes and pink full lips. She grasps books and reads under trees, sitting in the comfort of crimpling leaves. Small feat with burgundy doll shoes and wooden bangles running along her wrists. Taking small leaps and light steps, controlling her movements around the forest she loves. She is tired, wants to leave, but her time is not up yet.
Wednesday 3 December 2008
Full Stop by Nathan Bednarek
A dash –
a semicolon;
always just a-
head of each line;
like the ‘out of bounds’ sign –
perhaps I should grow a spine.
Perhaps I should finish my sent –
Instead of conjunctions,
why not for once,
a question mark?
‘May I have this dance?’
Why not?
A drink?
Perhaps a colon:
a list of words
potentially
forming a dialogue
and a suggestive ellipsis...
or the ambiguous brackets
(a slightly tilted head),
and a long-pause
after full stop
when she just can’t help
but smile.
a semicolon;
always just a-
head of each line;
like the ‘out of bounds’ sign –
perhaps I should grow a spine.
Perhaps I should finish my sent –
Instead of conjunctions,
why not for once,
a question mark?
‘May I have this dance?’
Why not?
A drink?
Perhaps a colon:
a list of words
potentially
forming a dialogue
and a suggestive ellipsis...
or the ambiguous brackets
(a slightly tilted head),
and a long-pause
after full stop
when she just can’t help
but smile.
You Say by Nathan Bednarek
“A star-filled sky”
You say.
“Just a pierced eye”
I say.
“The world is beyond the cape of night”
You say.
“The world is beneath the cape of night”
I say.
“Fill up your heart with fresh water”
You say.
“Fill up a sieve with fresh water”
I say.
“Eat the food I lay before you”
You say.
“Then flush it down, the whole menu”
I say.
“Walk the path, cleanse your robe”
You say.
“Yes, the path to my wardrobe”
I say.
“Don’t you see what’s ahead?”
You ask.
“Don’t you know I’m already dead?”
I ask.
“Your feet have not yet
descended to She’ol,
but the paths of life you forget
to contemplate. Heal
your bitterness, your regret.
Though you may not be ideal,
though your conscience may be in debt,
my love, o Son, I do not conceal.”
You say.
“Just a pierced eye”
I say.
“The world is beyond the cape of night”
You say.
“The world is beneath the cape of night”
I say.
“Fill up your heart with fresh water”
You say.
“Fill up a sieve with fresh water”
I say.
“Eat the food I lay before you”
You say.
“Then flush it down, the whole menu”
I say.
“Walk the path, cleanse your robe”
You say.
“Yes, the path to my wardrobe”
I say.
“Don’t you see what’s ahead?”
You ask.
“Don’t you know I’m already dead?”
I ask.
“Your feet have not yet
descended to She’ol,
but the paths of life you forget
to contemplate. Heal
your bitterness, your regret.
Though you may not be ideal,
though your conscience may be in debt,
my love, o Son, I do not conceal.”
Steady by Nathan Bednarek
Steady your lung-sighs during Sabbath
and sit in your once dark-brown
armchair; now a spreading cancer of
autumn beige steals the chair’s gown.
Steady your once youthful coal-mine arms
and grant your coal-lungs a rest –
for a mine that brings harvest like farms
is a mine where coal is best.
Steady your bare-chested coughs and breaths
and soothe an old opera-voice
that was once a harmony; your bluff,
a coherent vocal choice.
Steady your once hasty north-bound feet
and why not for once head south -
like birds that rule the skies in their fleets
and dream of warm winter boughs.
Steady yourself for once and listen
to a heart immersed in lung-
sighs and hear the gold of a coal-mine
like the north-fleeing bird songs...
and sit in your once dark-brown
armchair; now a spreading cancer of
autumn beige steals the chair’s gown.
Steady your once youthful coal-mine arms
and grant your coal-lungs a rest –
for a mine that brings harvest like farms
is a mine where coal is best.
Steady your bare-chested coughs and breaths
and soothe an old opera-voice
that was once a harmony; your bluff,
a coherent vocal choice.
Steady your once hasty north-bound feet
and why not for once head south -
like birds that rule the skies in their fleets
and dream of warm winter boughs.
Steady yourself for once and listen
to a heart immersed in lung-
sighs and hear the gold of a coal-mine
like the north-fleeing bird songs...
Wednesday 12 November 2008
Some Basics
Hi RUTC Creative Writers
Email me at dloffman@rutc.ac.uk and I will post your work onto this blog.
You should be able to view the blog from your PC by looking for http://wwwrichwriters.blogspot.com/
We can change the name of the blog.
We can add some details about who we are
We can post photos to the blog
You can comment on what people post to the blog - sign in as anonymous but you can sign your name on the comment. See below.
Encourage friends and family to visit the blog on a regular basis and leave comments.
Why not create your own blog and link to this one.
Happy Writing
David
Email me at dloffman@rutc.ac.uk and I will post your work onto this blog.
You should be able to view the blog from your PC by looking for http://wwwrichwriters.blogspot.com/
We can change the name of the blog.
We can add some details about who we are
We can post photos to the blog
You can comment on what people post to the blog - sign in as anonymous but you can sign your name on the comment. See below.
Encourage friends and family to visit the blog on a regular basis and leave comments.
Why not create your own blog and link to this one.
Happy Writing
David
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