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Category Archives: Writing

My Writing Kiln Potteries Prize Entery 2018

He Comes

I can hear him downstairs rummaging, searching. It was only a matter of time before he came after me, and now he’s here, going through the house.

I had time to hide, to get into this dark, small, space. The door to the loft is hidden on the inside of my built-in-wardrobe. The smell of the mothballs mixes with the musty air held within. I dare not use my torch for comfort, for fear the light will give me away, so I sit here as he searches, not daring to move, my eyes, tightly shut.

He calls up the stairs, telling me he is coming, taunting; why does he taunt? 

A stair creaks, with it I know he is near the top. My heart is beating against my ribs, thumping so hard I think he will surely hear it, my back presses more against the corner of the walls in a desperate attempt to get further away. He doesn’t know about this place, he can’t know about it, how could he know? 

I’m safe here, as long as I remain silent.

My heart races, the squeak of the door handle now a shrill as its turned; he’s here! I can hear him moving around the room, his footsteps getting louder as he gets closer. The wardrobe door quickly opens, my breathing stops as he scrapes the rails moving the clothing across, my eyes scrunch painfully closed. 

Boo! I found you, your turn to count… “One…Two…Three…Four…”

 

www.awanderthroughthemind.co.uk/writing

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Reflections 2018 w39

The results are in for the Writing Kiln Potteries Prize; and I did not make it to the shortlist. But it is still a win for me, at least over my inner critic, because I entered a public competition.

With my second attempt at a short story now under my belt I have moved past the self doubt stage, the voice that says it’s not good enough; it was, it still is, and it will be published here on Wednesday.

What will the next one be about?

Who knows.

At the moment one has a poem that will just not gel together, what I want to say and what fits the timing are not co-operating yet. Normally I move onto another one as it sorts itself out, but this one is like Spot vying for attention when I watch a film at treat time. No matter where I move my head, hers moves in front of my eyes, blocking the view. So I am walking away from it for a week or two, to create that space.

Art too is currently on the back burner, Puppet building has taken centre stage. Plans have been downloaded, printed and pasted onto card, from http://www.adamkreutinger.com/ . Two puppet plans are free, and he shows how to build them on Youtube. I recon one could build one so one is going to.

I go and find the materials later this week.

So thats it for the moment, it feels like a car journey that’s half way done, not there yet but far enough away that a cuppa is needed.

www.awanderthroughthemind.co.uk/reflections-2018

Reflections 2018 w34

Well my short story was posted last Monday for the Writing Kiln’s Pottery Prize, my first ‘proper’ writing competition entry, hopefully this one will have more than two people entering it (last years Brighter Futures in-house writing competition).

True the last one may have been a disappointment in the participation and therefore the result, but it did get my ‘story head on’ and this years entry was written.

It was written for the Potteries Prize last year, but I got my dates wrong for the entry which meant I either just published it on my site or saved it for another competition it fit the criteria for. Obviously I saved it, not even knowing if the competition would be running this year.

With the poetry writing my usual routine is to write it, leave it, alter it, leave it, alter it some more…Maybe publish it, reread it and tweak a little. But this, after nearly a year, has had no more alterations, the Brighter future story I would rewrite swathes of.

I feel I could not have written it any better, at this time, in the future, as my skill increase, who knows. But now, it is the best story I have written.

Miss Ross would be proud that I have finally written a story and it has a beginning, middle and an end. She always liked my stories, but I only wrote the middle part at high school.

One day I will write the book she always said I had in me.

 

www.awanderthroughthemind.co.uk/reflections-2018

 

 

 

I Don’t Want To Go Outside …#Poetry#Prose#Poem

I Don’t Want, To Go Outside

 

I don’t want to go,

exposed outside.

But behind this door,

remain and hide.

What is it, out there,

I fear, to face?

Nought but the monster

in my own head space.

The door is where

the line is drawn.

Even though my mind’s,

where the monster’s born.

The fears in the fog,

where the shadows will hide.

Upon gusts of the wind,

will the monster ride.

The rain its tears,

as it passes overhead.

In the suns long shadows,

it will hide instead.

The ice its skin,

as it slithers under foot.

Its cold, cold hand,

on exposed skin put.

Hear the dogs a barking,

to scare it away.

Movement in the trees

and the branches will sway.

The birds are disturbed,

take flight with a shrill.

as the frost of its breath,

in my lungs will chill.

No there’s nothing out there,

but what’s in my mind.

And my mind’s made up;

We’re not going out.

 

A § M 

18/05/18

Once Upon a Time…#Poetry#Prose#Poem

Once Upon a Time

 

There once was a time that you did tear,

When ride me you told was your last year.

On a pier I’m quite quaint,

But I’m loosing my paint,

n you’ve still not returned me my left ear.

 

A § M 

19/05/2018

My Medical Experience …#Poetry#Poem#Prose

My Medical Experience

 

A broken leg will not be left,

pain killers just be given.

No gaping wound be stitch denied

a plaster handed out.

A foreign object pierced the skin

would not be left to fester.

And if your heart will have attack,

would lazy just be called?

An if to walk you need some help

would therapy be given?

 

But what if these you were denied, and only pills be given?

What if these will come with scorn, and government you blame?

How well would you become?

How soon would you to work return, if nothing was to change?

And if you’re told you choose that life, because you find it easy.

How welcome would you feel?

 

There is no magic pill to have, that is – what we are told.

But now they have a pill for that, it’s new, just look, behold!

Therapy supposed to be, to solve the problem had.

But all I do is take damn pills, and this i’m told be glad.

Side-effects to be ignored, or worse just be accepted.

But still I go and battle on, I’m drained, I have been emptied.

 

How long do I remain unwell, and better not be getting,

before you will accept your wrong, and your pills – they need a vetting?

 

A § M 

15/05/2018

 

www.awanderthroughthemind.co.uk

Plotting Time…#Poem#Poetry#Prose

Plotting Time

 

Sitting in the shed,

sorting all the seeds.

Making out the list,

writing all my needs.

 

Greenhouse needs a clean,

algae have to scrub.

The pots I have from last years plants,

I’m washing in a tub.

 

Swept remainder of the leaves,

pulled up first of this years weeds.

Plot of soil that’s been raked flat,

what is planted? This and that.

 

Blackbird watches in pear tree,

the robin sits on fork.

Keeps an eye out for the worms,

that show up where I walk.

 

Disturbing hiding frogs,

when moving bags and bins.

It looks like little mouse made home,

in old and rusty tins.

 

No room for ornament or light.

No place for garden gnome.

Few flowers round the edges are,

t’is mainly veg thats grown.

 

Now’s time for lead on Spot to put,

pack up and head off to home.

My dinner I have yet to eat,

and Spot she wants her bone. 

 

 

A § M 

21/04/2018