All posts tagged: summer

Sun Sick

Tonight I am chasing the cool side of the pillow, almost as elusive as breeze despite the windows with their open mouths panting in the heat. Here, the backs of my knees slide slicked between day fresh sheets too quickly twisted into abandoned heaps, lumps of coal still smoldering at the foot of this bed all while the ceiling fan wheels in slow circles the air curdling into soups so thick it sticks in my lungs like grief I want to scream into the cool side of a pillow until my breath has turned cotton to swamp, until I cannot tell the tears from my sweat   and the summer feels a little less like a coffin pressing in on all sides.

Slow, Summer Days

Some days are made for ambling. Those slow, soft, warm days, when the breeze only stirs lazily and the sun slouches across the sky, scuttled with wispy mares’ tails, too relaxed to do much of anything. Those days are the best for long walks through country lanes with arching oaks, and dappled woodlands with root woven soils to leave your shoes scuffed your knees mud streaked and your hands stained by bark. Those days should take you places, those nowhere in particular places, before finding yourself closer to home than you would have ever thought. Daily Prompt: Amble I’ve been for a couple of walks this year with the other half. I want to see if we can visit Grinshill Hill this month but the weather doesn’t look like it’s going to let up much for a few weeks. I’ve been up it a few times as a child but not in the last five or six years, perhaps longer. Tell me, what are the places you like to go on those lovely not-too-hot, just …

Summer Dig

The paddock is still pitted with the evidence of a nine-year-old’s attempt at archaeology. Eleven years later, bits of the broken crockery dug up hang about, next to the oil tank, the bbq, inside the shed, reminders of how we sifted through sand.   We were going to match time-team. Discover the half-complete ruins of an ancient civilisation’s round house. Even now the most that’s been found is one, dusty, bent up spoon Dad brought in with him to the house. For a while I wanted to be an archaeologist when I grew up, so The Overgrown Garden became a dig site for myself and my younger sister who I roped into help me with the shovel work. I’m still hugely interested in the past, something that comes across to anyone who’s had the unfortunate experience of starting up any conversation with me pertaining to medieval/early modern history. I did also want to be an architect for a while, until I realised that it would take seven years and even then I wouldn’t be designing …

Working Off My Kindle

I love my kindle, I do, but it has its moment where hurling the thing or the window looks more and more like a perfectly reasonable course of action. Of course it’s much easier to write something up on the kindle fire them it is to try and write on my iPod or phone, and since my laptop has decided that the only resolution in its relationship with the internet is divorce, I’m somewhat stuck for options. I did want to give you all another extract from Obscurite, but that will have to wait until I get back to Bath this evening. Hurrah for desktop computers not clinging to life like a determined old witch. For those of you who read my April Will Be Awesome post, well guess what, it wasn’t. It was stressful and busy and way too many things jumped out of the woodwork. Writing took a back seat, it has to. Anyway! Onwards and upwards as they say. June is inching every closer and with assessments out the way by May …

Haiku August

I am trying to write a Haiku for every day of this month. I wrote Summer Birds on the first day, yesterday I wrote: Leaf mulch and bare bark. Faith went the way of Winter without Spring for hope.   and today I have:   You’re my thunder dusk following heat clogged daylight. I listen for you.   I find writing haikus a little bizarre. Why? I don’t actually know if I like them… Haikus never feel as if they hold enough when I read them of write them. I can find some crackers and think “wow! I really like that!” But it remains the same for the vast majority of haikus, I simply feel that they don’t suit me. So I’m trying to write one every day for a month to see if my opinion changes. How about yourselves? Are there any poetic or prosaic forms that simply stick in your pen? I would be interested to hear if anyone else finds themselves in a similar situation.