Tag Archives: writing ideas

Some gems found on the web:

Found while randomly trolling the internet….

Any of these sites speak to you? Please share! I love to hear what my readers are thinking.

This blog post was written to the musical muse of: Chasing Cars /Snow Patrol

 

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plant a SARK seed

So, I’ve talked about discovering SARK well after her height of popularity. But still, her concepts and inspiration ring true at any time. The magic of an artist’s spirit soars beyond society. 

Some SARKisms I jotted down in my notebook:

“I believe we need to go to where we want to be, and the resources will follow us.” ~ SARK, Inspiration Sandwich

WRITE IN COLOR…use a sketch book as a journal and my old scrapbooking markers to journal, make lists, collect quotes and draw/doodle little flowers and random patterns.

INVENT NEW WAYS OF BEING…reflect on how my life has changed since practicing The Year of Nurturing

I HAVE A LOT TO SHARE WITH OTHERS…Writing is therapy – without the appointment

WRITE MY BOOK…only I can :)

What do these concepts mean to you? How can each help to bring your creativity to the forefront of your LIFE??

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A Pocketful of ideas

I finished reading The Pocket Muse by Monica Wood and sizzle with exhilaration for my writing again.

 

OK, so as I read this little pocket-full of inspiration, I took notes, wrote down quotes, writing prompts and exercises then let my own imagination move my pen across the page. I thought I’d share some of these snippets with you:

Some conflict ideas:

  • a mismatch between person and place: someone in the wrong house, wrong job, wrong school, wrong church, wrong club, wrong DIMENSION
  • trouble getting from Point A to Point B
  • trouble being understood
  • trouble having something done to you (or for you!)
  • trouble talking
  • trouble listening

“I really like dialogue between two people who aren’t listening to each other.” ~ Raymond Carver

  • winning something you don’t want (a pet aardvark; an outdated set of Encyclopedias…)
  • saying “yes” when you meant to say “no”
  • a family secret gets out
  • a noise – or a silence – that won’t go away

Add some more conflict ideas! I’d love to have an ongoing list…

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Filed under Advice, Believe, books, Inspiration, writers, writing inspiration, Writing prompts

a poem a pic a day: day 19

Together

we laugh

we cry

we talk in movie quotes

we dream of owning a home

rocking on the porch with our teeth in a jar

hold my hand, so small in yours

hold my heart

so surrendered so long ago

our gems grow and glisten in their own light

it will be us

in the end

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Well, day 30. I completed 19 out of 30 days. Not bad for a first shot at this a pic and poem a day. To those of you who write poetry regularly, I SALUTE you. Damn, it’s hard. But refreshing and emotional and soul-searching.

I’ll continue to search my soul… and maybe share those musings here in poetry form. But for now, back to our regularly scheduled program.

Was there ever one?? ; )

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what did you think of the poetry month theme? and the pics to correspond? Wanna see more of this type on my blog? I nurture my creative spirit and tap into that deep dusty place where inspiration lies, but since I’m sharing it with the world, it’s only polite to ask your opinions. So, thoughts?

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a poem a pic a day: day 18


in the gutter

of my mind

my heart

my future

with the leaves of winter

wilted, mush, wet

cold and alone and swept

to the gutter

wash away last season’s regret

old ideas and conversations

rake out my fear

my anger

my pain

just don’t walk on by

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a poem a pic a day: day 17

Tween then and now

Today

my name is

silky purple giggle

Tomorrow

my name will be

shunned and bruised

top of the pyramid with dimples on both cheeks

cheerleader with her period

whispers and sleep overs, conjure spirits, talk of first kisses

I experiment with makeup, imagine my first kiss

think I’m in the clique, think I’m the shit

she still harasses me about not owning  a banana clip

I’m center in their ring of taunts

wearing a dingy pink puffy coat

Paiselys are cool, aren’t they?

 

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a poem a pic a day: day 16

Awoken Among The Dead

by: David Michael Campbell III

You don’t know how it started,
How it came to be this way,
For nothing from before the Awakening
Can be recalled to mind,
Almost as if it had never even
Existed to begin with, but who knows,
Perhaps it didn’t…

It all began as your eyelids,
Oh, seeming so heavy after what a journey,
Flutter open, and trying to comprehend your
Surroundings, you sit up, and feel something
Warm, and oddly vacant of the life it once
Brought.

You do not need to glance down to
Realize it’s the reddest of all bloods, not
Even beginning to dry yet.
You lay in the grass of a large courtyard,
Tall, rubble style buildings tower around
You and stare down fiercely with flaming
Exterior features.

But between the blotches of blood and
Garbage littering the once beauty of the
Courtyard, lie bodies,
Scattered and torn gruesomely,
Projecting the most grotesque of images
That man can imagine.

Weak stomached and unable to take the
Misery, you double over to vomit, but hold
It down with a gag or two when you
Realize you are starring into a fraction of cracked
Glass, and you vomit anyways, not capable of
The will power after seeing your own face.

You wipe your mouth from the rancid
Taste with the sleeve of your white coat
You wear, linen and matching long, scratchy pants.
Trying to recreate the reflection of your face
In your mind makes you wish you had never
Woken up, although that should be the
Least of your reasons why.

You recall a bald head, infested with long,
Bulging scars and veins, seeming as if they will
Burst all over the rest of your scalp.
Your nose is crooked and tilted slightly upward,
And as for your mouth, the corners are stitched
Sloppily and barely, disabling you ability to
Fully open your mouth.

Your eyes seem to be the worst remark
Of horror, for no pupil exists on either of them,
And the surrounding area remains bloodshot and
Hinting a slight tone of yellow, fading into
A whitish blend of colors towards the center.

Shakily, you hobble up and plant your feet
Firmly on the ground.
A quick scan of the surface area shows all
The limp, lifeless bodies to have the same
Features of yours in a general sense, and also
The exact same apparel, looking past the difference
In blood splatters and various tears and wounds.

You look up at the buildings, only to
See more bodies hanging over the edges of the broken
Windows far above, their arms swaying in a some what
Gentle sort of breeze.
Foundations look as if they are starting to
Crumble and collapse.
Flames flicker throughout, randomly, and
Other then the occasional crash or bending of falling
Concrete or steel, silence fills the
Crowd of the dead like a plague.

Behind you, three enormous crosses stand,
Burnt, black, and blowing away with the whistling wind
As ash and faint traces of smoke, spiraling upwards.
One, crisped skeleton like body is stapled to
Each of the crosses,
Jaws hanging open in an endless scream,
Eyes nothing more than pits of everlasting
Blackness, just as their nimble, twig like bodies and
Limbs portray quite sickly.

Shocked, you stumble back and fall over one
Of the thousands of bodies, only to make
A sound similar to that of a scream, and jump back up,
Then hurry out of the courtyard and
Crashing down a door into one of the skyscrapers.

You curl up in a blood soaked corner and
Cry in your hands, and think in between sniffs
Of sorrow: “Where am I? What am I?”, for
Because of your monstrous voice and identical
Appearance to the dead things, gender cannot
Be determined.

After all this trauma, you cannot take it,
“For how had it come to be such as all this?”
You think as you start to climb the
Stairs up the building, maneuvering around bodies
And gaps that lead all the way back to the
Ground below.

“Why must I be the one to endure this
Purest of all tortures?” You think as you
Perch yourself on the windowsill, the
Jagged glass sinking into your already blood
Covered, bare feet.

And with the extension of your legs, you
Go flying through the air,
The leap of faith, the tragedies of buildings
Pass by in a sudden blur of vision,
And as you become eye level with the three burnt bodies,
Hanging form the crosses, time seems to slow,
Almost to an utter stop.
A whisper escapes your stitched mouth,
And a tear flows from your cheek.
“Why have all these people died?”

Suddenly, the first body on the cross opens its
Mouth, and yells in a raspy scream:
“It hath cometh when all of mankind
Had seemed to begin to deserve all that
Hath rained down upon this land!”
And its jaw slowly closes and does not
Move again that you can easily tell.

You look over to the second body on the cross
Just as it speaks in the same voice as the first:
“You, out of all the others that lie before me, have
Been thought to have the richest, strongest soul,
Although, now as you fall, I doubt us three had made
The right assumption,” and just as the first,
It closes its jaw and stares far ahead at
Nothing in particular.

You don’t even have time to gaze over to
The third body when it speaks in the same
Pitch as the first two, although much less polite:
“Why have these people all died, you ask?
Aye, well they have done the same as you
Are doing right this instant, youngest one!”
And all three skeletons mouths open
Crookedly to utter a hardy, yet quite terrifying
Screech of a laugh as you near the ground.

Nothing more is remembered.
No feeling of impact or pain.
The Others have told you it was quite the
Same experience with them as well,
And although they have no one more to watch,
Effortlessly trying and killing themselves, all
The same way,
They do enjoy the company of one more, just
As they always have.

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a poem a pic a day: day 13

TREES

Patterned resistant bark

protecting the soft moist pulp of a spirit inside

Roots digging down

spreading out

Limbs reaching up

Puncturing in the sky

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5 Prompt Friday: Spooky Starts

    5 creepy prompts to get your mind rattled and heart racing:

  1. Write about waking up in the middle of the night and your front door is wide open.
  2.  You hear a child’s giggle coming from your crawl space.
  3.  Kimberly touched something warm and wet when she reached under her bed.
  4.  The man across the street is staring at your house and suddenly puts his finger to lips, “Shhh.”
  5.  It was 3 a.m and the tapping on the window started again.

What prompts can you share?

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5 Prompt Friday

   5 prompts to get your mind and pen moving:

  1. “Couples are boy-girl, Mr. Mason,” he snarled at me.
  2.  I’m late.
  3.  She traced the tissue-soft ridge of his ear, until it was an involuntary movement.
  4.  The envelope I’d been waiting for was thin, flat.
  5.  “Pick up your feet when you walk, Taylor!”

What prompts can you share?

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Ideas, prompts, advice, oh my! Don’t let a blog post pass you by! Subscribe today! It’s free. ; )

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