Sunday, September 14, 2014

Why do my characters keep dying?

Sonnet Sunday

Pale goosebumps sprout on fields of hackled skin,
as tremors run beneath the muscled flesh,
A snapping surge tips up a jutting chin,
Wide eyes of craving beg an infant's creche.
While panic blossoms on the rugged ground,
The hiker's gasp is swallowed by the leaves,
They rustle sweet, indifferent to the sound,
bent by a squirrel who leaps the forest's eaves.
Her final moments, before she's deftly claimed,
drip heavy with a sodden mat of loss,
of vows unspoken, ill spats and friendships maimed:
They join her tears in watering the moss.
Her end, as Hobbes observed, brutish and fast,
For her, for all, life bows to peace at last.

Haiku of the Day:
I'm meditating
While children scream below me
This Sunday is strange

Today's Drawing (inspired by the word "Samovar" from Dictionary.com's word of the day)




Today"s "365" Project (Make a utensil)
"Dusting Baton"



1 comment:

  1. Sorry I wasn't there to keep you company for what is now apparently 'screaming children sunday'! Did you put the baton duster to work on all of our cobwebs?

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