A song

.

There is a song that is old, that is new,

There is a song that is cold, that is wet,

One made of precious hard gold, heaven’s brew,

One that is, though often told, hard to get,

Melody many times fold, life and death,

Harmony at the threshold, one more breath,

Oh giving strength to those bold and those not,

They, who break out of the mold or are wrought,

A tune that has long been rolled, mouth to ear,

A tune all witness unfold, there to here.

.

Bit by bit

.

One step, two steps, ten steps,

A hundred and then a thousand steps,

One mile, two miles, ten miles,

And then a hundred thousand miles,

Bit by bit, little by little

No matter how fragile, how brittle,

Build up your dreams and your future,

Choose your path and carefully nurture…

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Im my box

.

Yes my dear! Now please pull that lever over there,

Turn the faucet, flip the switch and punch in the time,

Switch on the light and close the door, oh but beware!

Do not touch the breaks, I love hearing that sweet chime…

I’ve seen many a thing, met many a being,

So tell me now my dear, and don’t hold on your breath,

Anywhere, anytime: of what are you dreaming?

Come, let’s run together, through time, space, even death!

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Night cargo

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I’ve got this machine in my head,

Thudding tempest of my dread

I can’t stop it, I cannot flee,

It runs continuously,

Leitmotiv behind the curtain

Going round and round again,

Suppressing every other sound

In the darkness all around,

White noise amplified by the chug,

Rocking sea turns into drug,

I’m going mad, I want to scream,

Sanity goes up in steam…

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Paint me like one of your french girls

It was blue, it had always been blue. So why not?

The thought had occurred to me like a self-evidence. A statement that needed no explanation or demonstration, a universal truth. Or what should have been a universal truth. Unfortunately, things weren’t the same over here, they didn’t understand them like we do.

It had been weird at first, difficult to believe and to get used to even. But over time it got easier, it almost became normal. They needed my help for basic things, things that might be easy even for one of our young souls but which, for them, even adults couldn’t do…

I tries my best, helping when I could, explaining when I couldn’t, trying to teach them a few tricks to get by more easily. It got slightly better but not by much, that was their existence and There wasn’t a lot I could do to change it…

I could see something they couldn’t and they idolized me for it. Not all of them, but a majority. Not that I really wanted this. Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on how you view things, I made a few mistakes, that made them realize that perhaps I wasn’t so perfect…

They started doubting me a bit more, questioning, which was good, that ways they would become curious and look for answers on their own. Maybe even fond them. It took some time for me to really win their trust as a normal person and not as some messenger of a vengeful god… But I manager it, slowly but surely.

That’s why I was so excited and proud when they came to me that day and asked That favor of me. They had not asked for something of the kind for a long time. It was a strange request, not that easy a feat either but I accepted with glee, after all, that was giving me a chance to help them one last time.

So what did they ask me?, you wonder. Well they asked me to paint the sky blue and to let them finally see the wonderful sight I had always been speaking about. That mysterious color they had never been able to lay their eyes on…


My short story for the writing prompt I suggested earlier this week, enjoy.

A girl has no name

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There is a girl living in my dream,

But sadly I do not know her name,

She lives in the forest, by the stream,

Far from humanity, far from fame;

Sometimes goes out to the wild to hunt

The nightmares, dark, twisted and lurking,

Chasing them away, turning them blunt,

In hope of one day saving her king.

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I need

.

I want it all,

I want it now,

I’ve no patience,

Not big, nor small,

I swear avow.

My existence

Needs a rhythm,

A set of rules

To make me move,

Algorithm,

Advice from fools

Just won’t behoove…

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Hi hungry, I’m dad.

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When is a door not a door?

Simple, when it is ajar…

While you may cringe to your core,

As this pun leaves a deep scar,

Can you feel the slight chuckles

That rise deep inside your chest,

And before your mind buckles,

Now aware that you detest

This joke and not just a bit,

Take a second to look back

Upon your life, quick flashback,

And you might have to admit,

Despite great fear and pretence,

Despite your views and your stance

On this matter which seems mad,

You have now become a dad!

.

Writing Prompt #1


“It was blue, it had always been blue. So why not?”


So, here is something I have never done, at least not from this side of the game. I love participating to story prompts like this, most of the time it’s motivating and brings inspiration, and the rest of the time it’s just interesting to go and read what others have imagined.

For some time now I have been toying with the idea of doing one myself, to see if I could manage to motivate some people to try playing with me and also to see how different our imaginations work. As I just said I don’t have much experience with this kind of exercise, except for those I have participated to so I apologize in advance if anything is unclear or not well-organized, this is my first. I’ll try to do better next time, because indeed, I hope there will be a next time!

After thinking about it for the last few days here is the prompt I have come up with. Imagine the sentence I offer you at the beginning is the beginning of a novel, a poem, a short story or anything that you might want to write. The goal is simple, you have to answer this single question: what comes next?

Your writing is absolutely not limited in any way, it can be in the form you want, go on for the length you want, be about the subjects you want and end or be destined to be continued later.The only restriction I would apply is that it has to contain the prompt as its first sentence, or in its first line(s) if you decide to go for a poem or something of the sort. That’s all, apart from that you are free. You choose, you decide, you write.

If you want me to give it a go and read it (to give you a bit of feedback on my impressions), you can send it to me via comments on this blog or through my social contacts on my Contact page (there’s a form to send me an email at the bottom of the page). Make sure you add a way for me to contact you and I’ll try to give you my thoughts on what you have to offer.

I will also (try to) participate to this prompt and (try to) give you my version of the inspiration I get from this sentence (if and when I have time). I’ll (try to) post it as soon as I can but it will be uploaded at the latest by next weekend, around the 27th or 28th of August so y’all have about one week to get to work and produce a masterpiece!

I really hope you’ll find this motivating and have fun trying it out!

All right, set your watches on me, grab your pens (or keyboards, as you prefer) and get ready… set… imagine!


My text for this prompt : Paint me like one of your french girls

Or another prompt I am offering!

The long song

.

Babe, oh babe, sing to me,

My dear, oh my dear please,

Your voice is so dreamy,

Use it, put me at ease,

For nightmares come tonight

And my sleep will be rough,

Full of tears, full of fright,

I have run long enough.

My body’s getting cold,

I feel the dark looming,

My dear, oh my dear hold

Hold my hand as you sing…

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In the mood for some melancholy. Thank you Dodie.