Practice writing

If you don’t know what I mean by practice writing read my last post.

He already had a history by the time he first saw her. Perhaps they all did each and every one of them. Looking at her now, with her wide innocent eyes, he wandered at her history.

Where had she come from? By the look of her he would guess some foreign mysterious place, a place made up of legends and myths, a place that only partially existed.


Why had she left? Letting his imagination run now, he thought perhaps she was running from an evil sorcerer, no, a sorceress, who was jealous of her beauty and her goodness, like a modern day Andromeda. Or better yet she had been kidnapped, taken ruthlessly by some evil prince. That meant someone needed to save her. She needed to be rescued and someone must be her hero.

What was her name? he thought. It would be something exotic, something like Isa, Yasmine or Malia. That was it, Malia. It suited her perfectly. Malia, the mystic creature from a mystic land, she was so out of place here in this crowded street. Her profile seemed so wrong against the backdrop of skyscrapers and food carts. He would see her face in a land full of trees and rivers, trees with all the colors of the autumn falling around her. That was where she belonged.

Grievance

It has been pointed out to me, with distinct clarity, that, as a writer, I do not write in my blog near enough. Well I say, to those negative souls, "everybody likes to go their own way--to choose their own time and manner of devotion." Therefore, I will write when and how I chose to write and I will write about whatever I wish. The frequency of my devotion should not be judged or criticized by those who also lack the constant urgency to correct grievances. Particularly those grievances that we commit against ourselves. Are those grievances, with their lack of outside parties, somehow less deserving of our attention? Do they not scream out in protest as any other? Is not a grievance against oneself, perhaps, the more brutal of offenses? If one cannot avoid injury to one’s self or at least correct the grievance brought upon one’s self then how are they ever to accomplish the correcting of such grievances against another?

Heart of Mine, I Still Do

Heart of mine, what have you done? Why did you seek him out? Don't you see the trouble you will cause by letting him in? Heart of mine, trust me, don't let him know you love him, you need him. This tie will bind, this tie can break, it can break you. I don't want to love him, but you already do. I don't want to leave him because you will leave me if I do. I don't want to need you even though I have to. Can i go my own way? Can I love my own way? Am I ready for this? Did I think I would be?

1000 kisses

It is hard to fight a hard heart, even harder to listen to one. It is has walls of stone and steel that one cannot climb. The hurt of failure is so deep one could drown in it. And you would rather watch me drown that get water on your hands. It is hard to know when to give up the fight; there are so many things that you want and you want them to be right. So why stop the fight? Why should I beg you for something I know you will never give? But I will still live underneath this cloak. One day you will see that I am not asking for the rest of your life, I just want another chance to live.

Wind

Wind, its glorious breezes fill my heart with neverending hope and solitude. It carries on its back the fragrances of life and longing. It captures lives and shipwrecks them on the sands of time. Its shallow beconning cry leaves me standing alone on an island of desire. Because I cannot find the words to tell you I need you so.

Jones

Wiat until you see the sun, travel the endless sea and fly away. Something has to make you run, so do you stay kneeling in the sand or do you come away with me, take my hand. They can't stand the light lets leave here in the night.