Adventure stories from around the world, the kitchen, and the written word.
I play co-ed softball and the other night I was so distracted by the sunset that I was barley paying attention to the game. I don’t much action in right field so its not too terrible of me. Yes we did win – 4 to 3, really close game. Anyway, this is the poem that
A good friend of mine started an Instagram page called Good Dog Dallas. She challenged me and a few other friends to write a quick eight lines from our dogs prospective in the form of a poem or a rap. Well I can’t rap but I can write a poem. The picture was taken by
Spring seems to finally be here and should be enjoyed by all. Hope everyone enjoys this poem, I know its been a while since I posted a creative piece. ************ Drop of color Light of day Shinny Bright Blinding First a ray Then a wave Dawn unfolds Birds herrold Piping shrill Awakening Enlightening Day
Books, wonders of humanity, stories that last centuries. Ideas that persist through, through years and change. Books are now easy to find online but I prefer the search. To find the stories that I crave in quiet corners of a used bookstore. Sitting on the floor, looking up at shelves packed with books. Listening for
I don’t have much experience writing flash fiction but I was inspired by fellow blogger, KaylaAnn, to try my hand at writing some. I hope that you enjoy the story. ************ Cities weren’t meant to contain these horrors. Beneath the building is the foundation of civilization and in the tall towers technology reigns supreme. Monsters
I wrote this for a writing contest. Unfortunately, I didn’t win but it is still a fun read. It is a bit long but I’ll love feed back if you are willing. ************ My ancestors met when cultures clashed, European Faeries and Arabian Djinn. Here I am, a mongrel mix of magics with a splash
Out we went riding, bikes bumping, thumping as wheels turned over on uneven sidewalks. Soon I heard high notes, at first I believed the sound came from the bikes chaines, but soon learned of the true origins. The notes are the squeal of breaks on the tracks. Each break producing its own unique note. Beneath
I wrote this poem last summer. I do not remember the context but I felt that it was a good follow up to last weeks fiction post. Childhood is a time of magic and possibilities. Adults know all and there is an adventure waiting just around the corner. Days full of wonder and delight.
I wrote this after having reread The Great Gatsby as an adult. ************ There is a particular feel to summer. It is not just the warming of the weather that makes it time for tanks, shorts, and flip-flops. Summer months are a time of possibility. When we are little the summer is when we are free
This first piece is something I wrote last year. It is not part of anything larger, just a scene that popped into my head and I decided to put it into words. ************ The siren stood wrapped in black furs while standing amid an ice field. She had that had left the southern seas to
