Category Creative Writing

Masquerade – Friday Fictioneers

freyathewriter 16 Comments

After a few weeks of festive absence, here I am with my entry into the weekly challenge brought to us by the lovely Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.

Here are the rules: Use the photo as inspiration, write a hundred(ish) words – and share! Here goes my offering for this week – and I welcome your comments again!

Copyright - Dawn Q. Landau

Copyright – Dawn Q. Landau

– Masquerade –

“So our extensive funding for your art installation has produced… this?”

I hated him, and his condescension. I counted to ten, desperate for Jilly to fill the silence. She did.

“Mr Rogers, of course you know that this is a Second World War pill box. You will also realise – being an expert in military history – that it is the only one in the country to have been manned entirely by gay men. They were ready to lay down their lives, just the same as everyone else. Sadly, it was the only place in the world where they felt safe to be themselves. Ironic, don’t you think?”

Take that, you bigot.

—-

Click on the blue froggy below to read others’ offerings!

Ripples

freyathewriter 4 Comments

When the words don’t come easy
When inspiration evades me
When I must gouge every word from my bound and stitched mouth
When the rhythm’s distorted
When the rhyme pattern is thwarted
When confidence is eroded by crippling self-doubt
When I shrink before mastery
When my skill is unsatisfactory
When my fountain of words is foundered by drought
That’s when I lay my soul bare
That’s when I let myself care
That’s when what I put there on the table is me
It’s my heart, soul and body
It’s what pushes and drives me
I’m a poet, a writer, and words set me free.

Threshold – dVerse Meeting the Bar

freyathewriter 35 Comments

Here’s my latest entry into the dVerse Meeting the Bar. This week, Gay is asking us to reflect on ourselves, think about how we talk, what we say, reveal a little piece of us in poetry form. I confess, I found this tough, tough, tough. This year, life in the Freya world has been turned upside down, and then all the pieces put back in some form of random order, so I’m not really sure who this ‘me’ is. I think I’m at a chrysalis stage, just deciding what butterfly I’m going to be (positive spin, do you see?).

So, I’m not sure if I fulfil the brief, but better some words than none at all. I do use the language, it sounds typically British as well, I feel (a bit stilted, somewhat diffident, perhaps)?

Do visit the other poets who take part in this wonderful community… you’re in for a treat!

*****

– Threshold –

Being at a crossroads
Or maybe halted by a sudden fork,
not sure which direction I’ll follow,
even where the turn will take me
when I blink and look again –
I’m not sure of myself
Nor do I understand which me I am.
The work me is part of it
But what is the other me like?
How do I behave?
What do I do, or say, differently
when the responsibility is
sloughed off as I walk through the front door?
Some days, I bring it home.
Not my work concerns per se
Just the demeanour.
I think it’s time for a reinvention.
Long overdue, frivolity has been a stranger at my door.
Perhaps with jollity’s return,
the prospect of a new beginning
won’t leave that taste of fear
on my tongue.
The taste that stops the words
seeping out.