Category Fear

Dead-Line

freyathewriter 44 Comments

With my word-weaver
clasped tightly,
fingers sweat with effort to complete
the task laid before me.
I lasso the thoughts
pouring from imagination-central
knowing all the while that
the hands of the space-marker
sweep too fast –
there is no leeway,
I cannot knee-bend for
grace and favour.
‘Tsk! Tsk!’
bony digits admonish,
epithet-hurlers curl
ready to strike.
‘Axe-wield afore clock-strike!’
Is all they will say.

Dead-Line

*****

This week, Bjorn, our host at dVerse Meeting the Bar has introduced us to the concept of kennings. To quote Bjorn, ‘a kenning is a very brief metaphoric phrase or compound word and it means “to know”‘. It comes originally from Icelandic, but also exists in other languages such as Swedish and German. I can also tell you that ‘I ken’ is also used in Scots dialect in the same way! So, in brief, it is a way of using a compound phrase in place of the normal word in use.

I really enjoyed this – although it was quite tough to get my brain into the right gear! I hope my offering has worked – do let me know what you think.

Question Time

freyathewriter 26 Comments

Are they really human

Those people at the top

That they can even think

Of letting the atom bomb drop?

 

Do they have minds

That work like this

Day in and day out

In maniacal bliss?

 

Do they drink and eat

Atomic genocide

And dream about explosions

From which only they can hide?

 

Do they have bacon for breakfast

Like any other man

Or do they eat mushroom clouds

Which you can’t fry in a pan?

 

Shall we let ourselves be run

By these inhuman heads of state?

Or do we assert ourselves

Before it gets too late?

******

As I wrestle with revisions, plot lines, character (assassinations) and general staring at an impending submission entry deadline, I have taken a trip down a (very long) memory lane this week.

I would be delighted to find out if, when reading this, you had any idea if this poem was written nearly 30 years ago, when I was but an angst-ridden teenager? This is the poem I mentioned in a previous post, being the last time I entered any sort of writing competition. I’m kind of impressed with my much younger self’s first forays into poetry, although I blush at the idealism – but isn’t that what being a teenager is partly about? It was the 1980s and I seem to remember being frightened silly by the prospect of nuclear war (which is rather sensible, when you think about it).

Thanks to my Mum digging out the book so that we could check the title (both of us could picture the cover, but not the name), I have managed to source a very good condition second hand copy, received it yesterday and am now able to share it with you all, just in time for the weekly extravaganza that is dVerse Open Link Night (which I will link up to later this evening).

The competition was run by the National Association of Youth Clubs in 1985 (I was 14 for most of that year) and was open to girls and young women between the ages of 8 and 22. I think I saw the notice about it in Jackie magazine, which was published weekly until 1993 (and is now defunct).

Come one, come all and join in at dVerse – and do let me know what you think of my old, old work 🙂

True to Life

Phoenix

freyathewriter 65 Comments

Who am I asking at the top of the tree
Self-affirmation does nothing for me
I can’t trust my instincts, they’re hay-wired and shot
The message is scrambled, my brain’s lost the plot

I’m down on the floor, scraping in dirt
A nod of acceptance won’t really hurt
You in your turret, with glories to share
Tell me, a poor wretch, that you do really care

For it is cold down below in the shade of your heart
I live for attention, I am broken apart
When you look to the beauty of others in sight
Ignoring my mewling, I cower with fright

That I have lost you forever, I am lost in the dark
The future is bleak, empty and stark
I must go on without you, craft self-belief
Strength, hope and glory must rise from this grief.

******

This is me, putting myself in the shoes of one of the people in my work in progress novel, in the form of a poem. So don’t worry, I am not broken-hearted so soon into the New Year! Of course, there are elements of my personal history woven throughout, but this is essentially a piece of fiction. The main female character has lost her brother, has been left responsible for the safety of her little sister and the love of her life has taken a path she can no longer follow. Personal stories don’t change much in quasi-apocalyptic worlds, it’s the catalysts that are different….

Hurrah for the return of Open Link Night on dVerse. I will be linking up later on. Come one, come all and join in!