This week, time finally opened up to begin writing for fun instead of homework. It had been nearly a month since I sat down to write something enjoyable, and when I sat down, as you can imagine, all the ideas that filled my head full to bursting during that busy time...fled. Coaxing them out from wherever they ran to has been difficult, but I caught hold of the tail, so tugging the rest of the beast out from beneath the bed shouldn't be terribly difficult. And no, I'm not talking about either of my cats (my husband and I adopted a new baby kitten yesterday; I'll include a photo of him at the end of this post); one should never drag a cat by its tail. That's just cruel.
Cat tangent aside, I spent a couple evenings this week working on the sixth installment of Boy With a Bear Tattoo, and while I may be able to sit down this afternoon and write furiously until that part of it is done, it would be poor and unpolished writing, and I for one believe you all deserve better than a hastily written and pieced-together chapter.
My solution? I'll post three poems of various lengths that I wrote while on campus last semester all pertaining to something outdoor. I hope you enjoy them!
Also, speaking of poems, my dear friend, Meg McKeel, recently published a book of poetry on Amazon! I bought it, and her poetry is incredibly beautiful.
Click here to view Little Daydreams: a book of poems!
The Weathered
Piano
Still,
the keys rest now, the
Brush
of wind and sun
the
only touches they receive.
Long
past, the fingers stopped
Caressing
their pale and dark faces.
Their
eighty-eight tongues
Long
ago ceased their singing,
For
touch and love alone gave
Them
purpose, but
Long
ago, the purpose passed.
Every
day, the touches they
Crave
turn aside and pass them by.
So
their voices, lacking
Reason
to sing, fall mute.
The
body battered, worn,
Wasted
and want for warmth,
Lingers
all alone and cold,
Unburied
in a living grave
Above
the surface.
Perhaps
the cruelest fate
Is
not to die, but to
Live
among but outside life:
To
crave touch,
But
never receive it;
To
long for song,
But
lack voice;
Doomed
to watch all you
Love
live on.
Ripples
on a Pond
Oft I’ve wanted to write
a poem about the
ripples of raindrops
on a still pond.
A poem
full of alliteration
to create the sensation
of music, the steady
plop plop plop
of the droplets
falling from trees overhead.
But like the rain,
my words are spent
as soon as they touch
the page, absorbed
by paper.
Yet though my fleeting words
are like the rain,
and over time disappear,
their ripples shake the surface
long after the words
sink below.
Gods
of Thunder and Lightning
Clouds turn dark the sun,
making morning night,
and children, fearing,
dart inside
while the thunder,
rolling o’er heavens,
tolls the time for war.
In darkened daylight,
thunder sounds a gentle grumble,
gruffly warning,
sternly bidding
all to take to shelter
so the battle might begin.
Then the mild thunder
shifts its tone,
bellowing a war cry
as day falls into dusk.
At night, it roars,
its roaring voice
cracking, challenging,
chasing Zeus’ bolt.
Children shriek in bed
as battle wages,
the flashing of the blazing sword
and the groaning peal
as it strikes thunder’s shield
shakes foundations
and rattles windows
of the mortal beings below.
The clouds,
those gloomy heralds
watch the grisly battle wane,
and when the lightning
fades to distant,
seldom strikes,
the thunder cries,
the victor,
booms its hard-fought glory.
Then as the grieving clouds
slowly staunch their
torrential tears,
the weary warrior
retires, and there
gently sings its song
of fearsome conquest.
Thunder rumbles,
and I wonder
why, at times, it’s fierce,
and why, at times, it’s mild.
--------------------
Thank you for reading! As promised, here's a photo of baby Trip, who is currently crawling around my lap, pressing random computer keys, and chewing on my sweatshirt. He's a literal handful, and fiercely persistent for a creature that weighs under 2 pounds, but I love him.
To see more photos of my cats, Jemma and Trip, as well as get behind-the-scenes peeks into my writing journey and stay updated about what books and stories I am currently reading, follow me on Instagram at Writings by Abigael. Thank you, and I'll see you in a few weeks with the sixth part of my novella, Boy With a Bear Tattoo!
~Abigail
