Opaquey-white

Glimpse

Dark, exposed on the hill.
Silhouette clear against the moon,
A lone tree stands watch beside
Deserted pride of a castle high.

Many years past since foot hath tread,
Cold stone halls, no fire lit.
Echoes ring, a raven’s call
Swooping up to baby more.

Up the spiral staircase tower,
Something glides one step by step.
A shadow, glimmered opaquey-white,
A glimpse is all, then gone the sight.

A clatter of hooves hit the courtyard stone.
Dismounting, the rider, dark eyes glinting.
The hooded figure pauses, listening,
Then off along the passage he strides.

The moon slowly sinking, down beyond the hill,
The sun soon appearing, lighting up the valley.
In those dark and colourless halls,
Our cloaked horseman haunts

Up the spiral staircase tower,
He takes a peek then takes a step.
Following in the ghostly tread
Of opaquey-white, a glimpse, then gone.

2013
04/23
CATEGORY
Poetry
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Confusion

Calm

Last night I rediscovered the joy in writing. For months I’ve been trying (and failing) to write something that excites me and inspires me to write more. I kind-of forgot the joy in free expression that comes from writing from one’s heart. Last night, I felt inspired to pen something straight from inside. I wasn’t writing for an audience—just for myself—and it’s reminded of why I write.

It suddenly engulfed me, this feeling of immense silence. It wasn’t true silence, but the feeling of being completely alone. My head was aching and ringing from it, the world swirled before my eyes—my vision was blurred and hazy. It struck like a fist from behind, the strength of it made me stumble forward. Running down my cheeks, tears mixed with the rain  that lashed against my face.

Quickly, silence turned to the anger of a storm. It rammed against me, and the wind tore me in all directions. There was a voice out there somewhere. It seemed to be grabbing at me, drifting towards me then pulling away again. Black clouds grew thick above my head, pulsing and changing constantly. Sand was swept up around me, rushing, roaring, dancing with the wind. It was propelling me along somewhere, anywhere, it didn’t seem to matter and I didn’t have a choice.

Then the wind changed. The noise of waves crashing against rocks was added to the tempest. Sea spray whipped at the tears falling down my face. It swept them up and away, glistening, to places unknown. Then silence.

The clouds and wind cleared, leaving sunshine and blue skies, the sea calmed and the screams of the wind were replaced by shouts of laughter from the kids playing along the shore. The storm’s power left me unsteady on my feet and I collapsed into the sand. It was hot and dry, it warmed my frozen body and soothed my maddened mind. Seagulls swooped and called, dancing above the waves, crying, “Come! Fly away! Sail with us above the waves!”

2013
03/27
CATEGORY
Prose
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Creativity Series: "Three-Part Harmony" by Nancy Nordenson

Reblogged from Ross Gale:

Click to visit the original post

I.

In the beginning, you have an image, a question, a word that won't leave you alone. It keeps coming back. Knock, knock; here it is again. You pull out a notebook and make a note. A day or two later you scribble something on the back of an envelope. On an index card. Scratch, scratch. A thought comes to you in the shower, an idea at the grocery store.

Read more… 735 more words

2013
03/27
CATEGORY
Uncategorized
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It’s my balloon, please don’t touch

It is something we all open ourselves up to. Some people of course, more than others, but we all experience that awful feeling. We think we’re really clever, impressing our audience with our brilliant words, and then the sick realisation hits us…and we’re the ones left blushing in our own personal atmosphere. It creates a scary place, and yet all of us who love to talk go back there again and again— to the world of deflated balloons.

Why is it that there are some people who are a target of the funny guys? Those that tease non-stop, usually not maliciously, but never sparingly. Certain people manage to escape it entirely, but then there are others…like myself, who open ourselves up to it and, just when we think we’re awesome, they strike with a comeback that pops our bubbles and we go down just like that.

Like a pin that pops a balloon with a loud bang that everyone can hear, so they all turn around and watch us as we shrivel into a small piece of rubber on the floor. Unfortunately for us embarrassed, blushing creatures of balloon rubber, we never seem to deflate small enough to hide properly and thus are publicly humiliated in front of the audience we thought we held in the palm of our hand moments before.

A lot of my guy friends take a serious pride in catching me unawares with their jokes. I don’t know why, but for some reason they target me especially and mostly leave my sister alone. Sometimes they admit I’m really awesome afterwards which makes their teasing okay, but more often than not, I say things that give them a wide gap to come in and leave me asking myself why I had to say anything at all. But no, I never stop. Talking is what I do and I go on still, embarrassing myself in front of my friends who just tease me more.

Some days, I wish I’d stop creating spaces for a teasing attack, but I’m not sure it is a trait one can cure. Then again, I can take the teasing, so maybe I don’t want to wish it away, it might might mean I wouldn’t be friends with some people I really love and I would not like that in the least. ;)

2013
03/09
CATEGORY
Uncategorized
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Belated Celebrations and a Pretty View

Well, a year and two days ago, I started with my Hello World post. I had written a story for English and was persuaded by my crazy uncle to start a blog. I’m an attention seeker (it is true and I always have been) and as you’ve probably been able to guess, I jumped at the idea and here I am. I respect my readers for sticking with me, as I know I am really not the best or most careful writer, and I thank them all too. It has been a learning curve for me this year, but I’ve really enjoyed the challenge and I look forward to another awesome year of writing.

So happy belated birthday to my blog, it is still crawling along, but I’m hoping this year, to be able to write a lot more regularly and let it run.

I wrote a poem the other night, that was inspired by two extremely opposite things, and as a result, is a bit of a mess. When I have something on my mind, I often write poetry cuz it makes it all a lot better, and this was the case on Saturday (my real blogaversary) night. I’d spent a couple of hours helping my mom with a work assignment, and then the rest of the day reading a book by Gerald Morris about Sir Dinadan of King Arthur’s court. In the book Sir Dinadan wrote songs and poetry, so of course I was all inspired by his wit that just flowed carelessly over the page (in truth it actually only flowed over his tongue as he was riding his horse most of the time anyway). So yeah, although the beginning starts out seriously, most of the poem is pointless and I hope you enjoy it.

With a View of the Sea

Escape I tried
But my efforts died
My bonds they hold too tight

Freedom I fight for
And my strength I pour
But the ropes they keep me here

Cords of silk hair
Imprisoned my stare
A magical spell was cast

I shared repast
They would but fast
Then by advantage captured me

Now tied to a tree
With a view of the sea
Taunts enfuried my head

Twas no less than Ned
Inclined on a bed
In comfort he did appear

When he was near
He called out, “Oh, my dear!”
In two seconds he’d broken the cord

He invited me aboard
But soon made me bored
With his endless tales of love

When he called me his dove
I took flight there above
And rode away on a horse of his parting.

2013
02/25
CATEGORY
Poetry
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A Battle Cry

My first creative writing of the year…

Battle cry

Standing tall
Amongst those calling out,
His back was bent
And his head bowed low,
But his soul was strong,
And there he spoke.

His voice carried far,
Yet his words were muffled.
Still, his forces rallied.
Crawling to their feet,
They raised a battle cry
Steady and long,
It rang out.

As their cry reached its peak,
Their leader fell.
His muffled voice failed them.
And then it stopped,
That magnificent call
Of troops to battle,
It dropped like a stone.

A single arrow had pierced his heart,
But on, his spirit lived.
Twice rose that cry,
They rose to battle,
And on to war they charged,
A new leader at their head.

A slow motion show,
They appeared above a rise.
Hardened men with straight resolve,
One moment silent
Then next a roar.
No longer cowering,
They came down sure.

2013
01/18
CATEGORY
Poetry
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Summer Camp and Summer Trees

I’m sitting here, after a long holiday, not quite knowing what to write and I seem to have forgotten how to write it too. Such a lot has happened over these past few weeks that I’ve gotten so out of sync with everything at home. I’ve spent a lot of time with friends, just hanging-out, swimming, singing, shopping, and being plain-awesome and now school starts this coming Monday, I have a lot of stuff I’ve said I’m going to do and I still have to actually do something about it.

My brother, sister, and myself went on an incredible church camp from Friday until yesterday. God was present the whole time we were in Stanford, and the amount friends we made and things we did will make memories for years to come. It was a bit strange as well, as we connected with some friends we haven’t seen in over six years. All my muscles are aching like crazy from jumping up and down during the worship times, and I got asked to dance twice. Basically, Summer Camp The Surge 2013 was unbelievably amazing, and I can’t wait till winter camp in July.

On New Year’s Eve, a huge Eucalyptus tree fell on the corner of our house. In the middle of summer we never get rain… except when our roof is no longer. It has rained twice since the tree fell, and the farmers are still doing nothing to change our roofless situation. The tree landed in my garden so once it is completely chopped away and moved, I have a lot of plants to replant and make live. I’ve already had to start pruning the dead and broken plants away, it just makes me want to cry! Actually it doesn’t, as I’ve always liked renovating gardens.

This holiday has been incredible all the way through, I’ve been horse riding twice, I watched The Hobbit, I swam, I shopped, I spent amazing hours talking with friends, I met a lot of awesome people, I loved camp, my dorm screamed at the scorpion that was found in one of the beds, I was asked to dance twice in two days, one of my friends was proposed to on the way back from camp and after shouting to the whole bus “I’m 13 and I’ve just had my first proposal!” she refused him, and God was, is, and will always be INCOMPARABLE!!!!!!!!!!

2013
01/15
CATEGORY
Farm Life
Uncategorized
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