What is it that drives a moth to the flame?Is it the beauty? Or is it the pain?Is it seduced by the warm embrace of the fire--Propelled to touch by some burning desire? Or does the danger play a part?Does the bliss of agony entice its heart?To kiss the fire but escape the flameand dance … Continue reading Wondering Wednesday Presents: What Drives a Moth to the Flame?
English translation is below the French version my anglophone friends, but this is your content warning because this poem is pretty explicit. Must be something about being the language of love but every time I try to write in French I get... well porn-y. Any-hoot if that's not your thing skedaddle now and come back … Continue reading Pardon my French, but this Poem is Just Too Sexy for English
I wonder about the color of your eyes— How it shifted and sparkled like the surface of the lake under the kiss of the sun— As bright and beautiful and uncatchable as the light itself, A mirage I cannot capture in the eye of my memory Blinded as it is by the shifting sands of … Continue reading Wistful Wednesday Presents: The Color of Your Eyes
The Guillotine's Tune C’mon, fly with me and let it all hang loose We’ll tap and sway on the tips of our shoes-- Just swinging to the rhythm of the hangman’s blues. Hand in hand, and we’ll skip down there-- And we’ll shimmy and shake with live-wire flare Just snapping to the beat of the … Continue reading Wicked Wednesday Presents:
“—And when they came to find him the next morning, the only thing left was his head. Oooooooh!” “Having fun in there, Pete?” Carol asked. “Yes, I am making the best fun with myself!” Pete’s voice came through the transceiver in her spacesuit with a thick Russian accent. Carol rolled her eyes. He was laying … Continue reading Flash Fiction Friday Presents: Frozen Ghosts
Pitter-patter, pitter-patter pads the sound of teeny tiny tripping trapping Tumbling, twirling, twisting, curling, little-little feet a-dancing It’s not the children, oh my, oh no, not the children never they They’re gone forever, flapped their feet and flew away No, no, no, ‘tis just the scritch-scritch-scratch and rat-ta-tat-tat of rats’ attack The squeak-squeak crack and … Continue reading Weird Wednesday Presents: Peter Pied Piper
You know, the tragedy of Milton’s Satan is that he ends up becoming a worse version of the very thing he is rebelling against. In truth, I wonder Milton’s universe would be better served if both God and the Devil were to follow the path of the Buddha and relinquish the chains of desire to … Continue reading Brief Bedtime Musings on Paradise Lost and an Extremely Wordy Original Poem
Sometimes acting feels more natural to me than just being a person. But I think that’s only because I have a script to follow, and I know what the other actors are about to say. The world of theatre is contained, ordered, predictable. It follows that I have never been particularly good at improvisation. Improv … Continue reading Flash Fiction: “Yes, but–“
Well, I’ve been reading more Orson Scott Card. I wrote a post about Speaker for the Dead but ultimately decided against publishing it. It veered into the unproductive snarky, borderline-lecturing sort of content that I’m kind of sick of reading myself, and it’s not the kind of thing I want to put out in the … Continue reading People vs Ideas: What Orson Scott Card’s Ender Saga Has Taught Me About My Own Writing
A Thursday Response to Wednesdays Writing Prompt: One. Shaking hands—a trembling finger Resting lightly on the trigger A second passes in a hundred years Blood-drums pounding in your ears Two. Bead of sweat trickling down your brow Sneering lips—you’ve got her now Heat in your chest a rising fire Vicious sensation of vengeful desire Three. … Continue reading Wednesdays Writing Prompt
The Rookery 