All posts tagged: myth

Myth Lost Lover

They carved a mirror out of shadows when you died, just to pull your reflection from it, held the silhouette up like a man full formed and walking despite the brittleness in his limbs when he reached for anything other than the stories they planted inside his mouth like the kisses I used to keep there when the world receded with the tides on blue moons and snowy days in June. I alone knew that you did not smile in that way. I alone knew the curve of your mouth was remade backwards, the bend of your nose lost beneath legends, a scar on your palm, no longer than the width of one finger healed by their songs. If we had laid together I would not recognize the man they’d forged, even your eyes changed colour in the light of their voices. In the end I had to learn to let them keep you this other version of you, that I did not own, and I did not know. Daily Prompt: Famous (Also inspired by Madeline …

NaPoWriMo – Day Fifteen: Bluebeard’s Wife

It was not cold enough to keep her whole when Spring sprung anew to curdle her soul, so he wept just like the castle walls as they shed their sorrows at the thaw and the ice around her heart did melt as much as any love she’d ever felt when confronted with his face and gait so apposed to the words he’d carefully placed in letters crafted on cold summer nights in rooms empty of laughter, or of life. Now she lay among her sisters past, flowers sullied, bloomed all too fast, victim to the warming months where little for her condition could be done except to watch her cheeks give way, her skeleton to rise beneath layers of decay, and press his lips to white of her throat when all that remained was spinal column and bone. I might have gone a little off target with today’s NaPoWriMo prompt: “writing a poem in which a villain faces an unfortunate situation and is revealed to be human (but still evil)”. I’m not sure I managed …

The Curse Of The Ex-Wife

‘You know something, I think life was better on the other side,’ said the mummy currently unwinding the bandaged around her torso. ‘So there is one?’ Dr Williams asked, cheeks colouring as the creature plucked a bullet from between flesh her ribs. She examined it for a moment and then tossed it aside into the sand beside the yellow placard marking one of the entrances to the burial tomb. ‘I’m dead, a revolver is not going to make me any deader,’ she sighed. ‘No, of course not, I do apologise,’ said Dr Williams. ‘You just, well you know, caught me a little off guard.’ ‘You were preforming an ancient revival ritual in the middle of the desert over a corpse. What did you think was likely happen?’ ‘Well honestly, I thought nothing would happen,’ Dr Williams admitted. ‘Then why bother?’ ‘It seemed harmless enough,’ he shrugged. ‘The rest of the team have taken the day off and I was the only one about so I thought why not give it a crack. The least the …

NaPoWriMo – Day Thirteen

I don’t think I have ever actually had a fortune cookie… It may sound strange, but when you grow up in the middle of the countryside where nowhere delivers and the nearest takeaway requires the same length of car journey as the nearest supermarket, takeaways become something of a rarity. Anyway, enough about me weird, rural childhood. The prompt for today’s poem was to write a poem inspired by the idea of fortune. A year or so ago a friend bought me a book called ‘The Encyclopaedia of Superstitions’ by Christina Hole. Part of me wants to ‘pah-poohey’ the whole idea of superstitions, but it’s the sort of book that makes you very aware of everything you do day to day that might signify bad luck. In short it can be something of a stressful read. However, for today I decided to crack it open and see if there was an entry for fortune cookies. There wasn’t. Instead I found this: Fox’s Wedding When sudden spatters of raindrops fall while the sun is shining, country …

Mini Celebration!

Woo! Today I struck 15,000 hits on Writing and Works! It seems that the stats keep going up and up lately and it makes me so happy to see people reading and enjoying my work. So here is a blast from the past, posted when I only had fifty followers and was just starting to get to grips with WordPress in April 2012. Artwork by the wonderful DeviantArt artist The Forsaken Sailor Siren’s Song James McCormic wouldn’t realise it until it was too late, but he never stood a chance when it came to the beautiful girl sitting in the window of the coffee shop on St George’s Street. He had to walk past the shop most mornings, his eyes flickering towards the flawless glass each time, just to check if she was there. Always waiting with her coffee cup in one hand and a blank covered book perched carefully upon her knee. She never saw him. At least James knew that she had never looked at him. Her gaze would remain downcast and he …

Enjoying Your Own Work

When Nora Joyce was asked what her husband James Joyce had enjoyed reading during his life she replied with “mostly he read himself.”  Now I suppose this could be taken to mean that he was one of these writers who believed that everything he wrote was sheer gold or just that he spent so much time editing that he could never get around to doing very much or anything else. Either way it makes for a good quote and one that I like. But I have a question I want to ask you. Have you ever read or written fanfiction? I will admit that I used to read and write a lot more than I do now and what I did write I didn’t take all that seriously. (I did become rather popular though.) The bulk of my fanfiction writing was in the BBC Merlin universe, with me shoehorning my own characters in. Other people seemed to think they were a lot better than I did. At least that was my opinion until the other …

My Attempt at December Form Challenge

In December I thought I might attempt the December Form Challenge. Unfortunately I only managed to complete three poems for the month, due mainly to a title wave of university assignment. So for anyone who is interested. Here are my three fixed formed poems all the way from December. Lost in Wishing I took my dream and threw it down the well, Where I had tossed coins and wishes for you, Poured my hope in the silence as it fell… When I once thought that fairy tales were true. I wanted silver knights on proud horses, Godmothers, white mice and pumpkin coaches… But then you wanted to fight the dragon, And what was our future became fiction. (A Rispetto) Make Me Mistress of Lies and Goddess of Chaos My brightly burning ice giant; god of fire, My silver tongued lie-smith with weighted whispers— Will you still love me on Ragnarök’s byre? When your children wage war on their elders? For the nine realms will be nothing but chaos, And each will sit back to watch the destruction …

Siren’s Song

James McCormic wouldn’t realise it until it was too late, but he never stood a chance when it came to the beautiful girl sitting in the window of the coffee shop on St George’s Street. He had to walk past the shop most mornings, his eyes flickering towards the flawless glass each time, just to check if she was there. Always waiting with her coffee cup in one hand and a blank covered book perched carefully upon her knee. She never saw him. At least James knew that she had never looked at him. Her gaze would remain downcast and he would walk on by pretending that he hadn’t spent half an hour preening in the mirror to perfect his hair, just in case she turned and saw him. Each day his pace slowed further, stuttering slightly as the battered chalkboard menu crept into view. He thought it was his own courage telling him to push open the door of the café, and shuffle towards the counter where the waitress smiled helpfully. She filled the …

Writers Block, Creative Friends, Art and Literature

Now I was supposed to do this a couple of weeks ago. But for those of you who know me, asking me do get something done that is not deadline specific is close to asking me to do a triple backflip. I may do it, the likelihood of it taking place is just very low. But when it comes to promised favours I just have a sieve like memory, it’s a struggle to keep thoughts from slipping through the cracks. Anyway, back to the original point of the post. Those of you following will have already seen that some of my friends are somewhat creatively minded, (and completely off the wall.) Now I’ve been told that my blog is apparently drawing in a reasonable amount of traffic (this may be an overstatement) and that as a ‘friend’ it seems reasonable that I will try and introduce those who read my work, to the fantastic works of those I know. Now I have no problem with this. I really don’t mind including such pieces as Amber …