Star of Change

Star of Change Said the night wind to people standing there, do you know what glows, people, way up high? A star, a star, of change, shining right there. It’ll bring change where’er it’s light passes by. Oh star of wonder, star of night, royal star whose shining eye regards our abode. On that silent night, when long knives, their toil cease; their owners sleep; their rage, peace erodes. Like a dove, peace descends in radiant light on that silent night when all is calm, all is bright, to alight on aspirants who struggle for peace ’till it’s in their palms. For them that star shines, torches … Continue reading Star of Change

Armadillo Dreams

Armadillo Dreams Armored shell enclosed, it digs and burrows. Rarely out at night, it’s nocturnal but My trusty Armadillo friend, sorrows. As he swings his tail, wishing he’s a mutt. Dragon wings, he’d have, the better to fly Into the sky, where clouds’ kiss, brush his snout. Like a beast of myth, he’d spit fire, fly high Let sunlight gild his scales and poems spout On moonless evenings with wizards and wights, Dreaming as they scheme of overthrowing Regents of evil intent, who hold light, Ever bright, captive in surreal drawings. Alas, but for an accident of fate– My armadillo’s dreams won’t be sated. … Continue reading Armadillo Dreams

Seconds

Seconds (Picks up where The Nutcracker left off) Nolo paused, caught half in, half out; a spy arrested by a scar, he’d come seconds too late to prevent; he’d saved the Kid’s eye, but not his face, too late by mere seconds. Yet just in time to save Sarn’s life, just so he could wreck it at sixteen by getting a girl with child. ‘Till that tree’s just so, that child is constantly rearranging. He was at it now though he’d enlisted help with the high branches and there they stood, young father and son, as the tree listed. A ball dropped, knocked … Continue reading Seconds

The Rusted King and the Drum

The Rusted King and the Drum (Picks up where Between Dreams and Boats left off) Rusted nails twisted into a diadem. Three blood stones set in place of precious jewels. On a scrap heap he sprawled with a ripped hem. The King of Nimbledon, liege-lord of fools, price of thieves and bully boys–pay him heed all you creatures of the night, pickpockets, lock breakers, streetwalkers. Orphans bend knee to this tyrant, who reigns with a socket wrench for a scepter that calls all to order. His court of thugs, cheats and scruffy children wait to see who’ll be nailed to the girder. … Continue reading The Rusted King and the Drum

Reflections

Reflections Concentric rings disrupted the image reflected in the pool; drips from fingers dropped onto that watery assemblage where a pair of glowing green eyes linger. Sarn turned his back on the water’s mirror and the stalactite’s slow weeping to pace. His son continued making rings appear and glowing stones’ reflections dance in place. “Why you sad?” Ran asked, eyes on his canvas. “Not sad just–” Sarn broke off, magic crested, he breathed in deep, and fought it down en mass. It strained ‘gainst mental chains, then rested. Deep breath, water plinks, a touch to his leg, a hug, but he feels like a powder keg. ~ ~ ~ He’s walking, … Continue reading Reflections

Whispers in Stone

Whispers in Stone Thirteen years ago… Sarn chased sparkles dancing in tides washing the shore. He lifted rocks seeking their shine. Rocks rubbed his soles, sun warmed him, water sloshed his breeches, his numb fingers caught that shine. A spark blossomed in the smoky stone heart. it winks, changes to blazing lips that speak. Sarn shrugged, pressed the rock to his ear in part, copying the kids with shells. The rock speaks words that tumble like pebbles down a hill. Its cadence soothed him; he discerned one word out of the tumult which bounced ’round until it fired his magic and out burst that word: “Lumir,” he said, naming, giving a shape to potential, allowing light … Continue reading Whispers in Stone

Steadfast – Writing 101 #15

“Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens.” — J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring Steadfast When the road darkens will you stand with me? ‘Neath threatening skies will you run beside? Towards storm clouds hurling lightning, come with me. ‘Cross restless seas, down cresting waves we’ll slide. When trouble threatens my bow’s unlimbered, my arrow’s knocked and my aim’s true; for through it all I’ll stand with you, ‘gainst angry birds or demon hordes, or monsters that chew. When the road darkens will you stand with me? Or will you lose your faith and run away? Will … Continue reading Steadfast – Writing 101 #15

Captive Dragon – Writing 101 # 14 & Friday Fiction with Ronovan Writes

Captive Dragon Stars shone, thousands of candles in the sky, their light outlines a chocolate dragon tied up. Too weak to struggle, her scales too dry, no helpful wave nearby, her wounded guide, her captain, draws near. Rescue’s in his mind. In night’s blanket he hides; his mind’s open to her–connection made–their pain’s entwined. “The earring,” she says mind-to-mind, “it opens the lock on the collar. Steal it, you must…” “I know,” he replies, he’s worked his way ’round camp, leaning on his sword; her captors trust her bonds to hold, but a weakness she’s found. He stumbles, grips the wound … Continue reading Captive Dragon – Writing 101 # 14 & Friday Fiction with Ronovan Writes

Beautiful – Writing 101 #13

Beautiful You’re beautiful; yes you reading these words. No matter your race or creed or color, or whether you bend your gender, these words are meant for you. For I see your splendor, reaching out bright hands towards the whole world. It stuns me that so much beauty contains all that you are without overflowing. Young, old or in between, these words pertain to you and me and all the world flowing by can’t deny the beauty of your soul. Not when its shining like a second sun. To you I extend my hand, through the whole world let me walk with … Continue reading Beautiful – Writing 101 #13

If we were having coffee… Writing 101 #11

Coffee Break If we were having coffee…I’d sip tea. Any fruity, herbal, variety will do. I’d tell you I’m working on three things: editing, writing and poetry. If we were having coffee…I’d sip tea, maybe cinnamon with some stevia. I would tell you that editing may be the toughest thing I’ve tackled since trivia. If we were having coffee…I’d sip tea, peppermint with cocoa powder for spice. I’d tell you today I worked on book three instead of book one. I blame the muse twice. If we were having coffee…I’d sip tea, licorice this time, and ask how fares thee? ~ ~ ~ I really did … Continue reading If we were having coffee… Writing 101 #11

What Do You Do When Not Writing? Assignment #9

What Do You Do When Not Writing? “What do you do when not writing?” she asked the scribe. Laying paper and ink aside, he regarded her but no answer blast past his consciousness. He blinked and she sighed. “That’s what I thought.” She left scrivener’s nook, took a boat to university’s isle, asked a student with her nose in a book the same question. “I go out, walk awhile,” shrugged the girl. “What about you professor?” “I read, improve my mind.” He turned and fled. Still not satisfied, she dragged a claw, tore reality, poked through my screen and said– but I had an answer … Continue reading What Do You Do When Not Writing? Assignment #9

Stars Die While You Worry – Assignment #7 Part 2

Stars Die While You Worry Explosion! A star dying in the black, years it takes for its light to reach his eye. The day’s layoff blinds him to the star’s lack. He gives the star-strewn heavens one last glance, heads to his car to end his last workday. Far away alien worlds haven’t a chance. New supernovas’ shock waves heads their way. Back on earth he crumples up the pink slip. His tenure with that company now ends. Thousands of light years distant, forces rip stars apart. Unnoticed his career ends in silence, unlike stars’ end in violence. For both, the world turns in ambivalence. ~ ~ ~ Sequel by request  to Supernova. Gotta request? Put it in … Continue reading Stars Die While You Worry – Assignment #7 Part 2

Shayari – Where I Write – Writing 101 #6

This is my place to write (in my mind but not in physical reality) Shayari A rolling land, with mountains tall and mist shrouded, whose snow capped peaks launch eagles high, where old forests roam, intelligence-kissed by magic writ by a mage who was high, where Guardians ride, crystal swords flashing in the sun and villages perch in trees tangled up in magic and true knowing, where cities sprawl in valleys blasted free of trees by ancient weapons, now barren those crater-cities where nothing will grow despite rivers that flow through the warren to the inland freshwater sea that knows a secret hides … Continue reading Shayari – Where I Write – Writing 101 #6

Dawn – Writing 101 Assignment 4

Dawn In quiet he sat, watched the rising light falling through stained glass to illuminate the church. Watched the dark driven out by light, a sun created to eradicate darkness wherever it falls. In the heart, under cloud, in church–wherever shadows linger, light shines and does battle apart from life flowing on the earth. On it glows, its mission never complete. So he sits quiet, and contemplates night’s fade to dawn. God’s free gift to us all, calling to spirits young and old, a bright reminder that dawn makes all things new as it showers blessings, renews all in need, this light offering. Continue reading Dawn – Writing 101 Assignment 4

The Road Calls – Writing 101 Assignment 4

The Road Calls I watched the sylvan world fade away. Through my long watch, cities rose up and fell. Ancient magic no longer holds sway. Now comes the day to bid a fond farewell. My watch is done when this day ends in night. Weep not, my friend, the sun’s last glimmer leads me home. Over hill and dale, through passes tight, over ice-crowned mountains where my road leads. Back to lands that still dream, where magic dwells. The road is now calling, silver streams sing. My feet itch to dance my way in its swells. Say farewell. The road calls. Your blessing sing– I … Continue reading The Road Calls – Writing 101 Assignment 4