Sunday, 28 February 2016

short forms 28th February 2016

modest
her gran's old house
much better than their flat
but at least the council made good
the damp


© Rachel Green 2016

sparrow
building a nest in leafless branches
high wind


© Rachel Green 2016

index cards
by the hundred
plotting
perhaps if I plot the novel
the story won't stall


© Rachel Green 2016

woken
before the alarm
bored dog

paws
on the end of the bed
low wuffing

then one big bark


© Rachel Green 2016

mom?mom?mom?mom?mom? MOM.

© Rachel Green 2016

Saturday, 27 February 2016

short forms 27th February 2016

schooldays
the violence
becomes part of her life
that she has to learn to  accept
Mad aunt


© Rachel Green 2016

dark steel
stretched across the landscape
solitary gull


© Rachel Green 2016

a single sentence
begins a reworking
the tale of Chloe Good
I may well re title it, though,
tasting Paradise


© Rachel Green 2016

he makes me babysit
for ten or fifteen minutes
the baby cries

I have to admit
I'm rubbish with babies
and children, too.

And most adults.


© Rachel Green 2016

Bad thoughts. She blocks out darkness.

© Rachel Green 2016

Friday, 26 February 2016

short forms 26th February 2016

how come
she sees things now?
the supernatural
beings who crowd humanity
make way


© Rachel Green 2016

spongy moss
on the front lawn
sparrows


© Rachel Green 2016

paperwork
stored neatly
filed by category
can I find the notice of benefits?
can I heck as like


© Rachel Green 2016

the stress
of an overdraft
swallowing benefits

relieved in an instant
by the generosity
of a loved one

such relief


© Rachel Green 2016

memories of Torquay in the sunshine

© Rachel Green 2016

Thursday, 25 February 2016

short forms 25th February 2016

chloe
has a bad time
school bullies torment her
and misery loves company
demons


© Rachel Green 2016

morning sun
crystals hung in the window
rainbows


© Rachel Green 2016

dizzy spell
leaves me gasping
magnified vision
blood results from the doc's
everything is okay


© Rachel Green 2016

clicking jaw
seems worse these days
as if it doesn't fit

i thought I was immortal
but sadly it appears
I am aging

in my head I'm still 19


© Rachel Green 2016

Liar? She's a novelist, so yes.

© Rachel Green 2016

Wednesday, 24 February 2016

short forms 24th February 2016

a new
freezer buddy
for her deceased father
the family dog, run over.
baggies


© Rachel Green 2016

heating vent
proto-clouds climb to the blue
melting frost


© Rachel Green 2016

woken early
by the dog crying
paws on the bed
by the time I've showered
she's asleep again


© Rachel Green 2016

afraid
to phone the doctor
blood tests
terrified
I'm becoming a hostage
to old age

no news is good news


© Rachel Green 2016

Aspirin. 300 milligrams. Thin the blood.

© Rachel Green 2016

Tuesday, 23 February 2016

short forms 23rd February 2016

a boy
walks on his own
in the cemetery.
She wonders what he thinks about.
the dead?


© Rachel Green 2016

distant dog
calls for companionship
twilight barking


© Rachel Green 2016

a friend edits
an old novella
'The boy who couldn't lie'
I'm almost afraid to look
at the new critique


© Rachel Green 2016

head pressure
fells like a tidal wave
in my temples

a bout of tinnitus
but at low frequency
enterprise hum

take another aspirin


© Rachel Green 2016

The tap water tastes foul. Arsenic.

© Rachel Green 2016

Monday, 22 February 2016

short forms 22nd February 2016

small deals
concerning life
and the desired lack
thereof. A continuation
request


© Rachel Green 2016

first daffodils
the haunting shriek of a magpie


© Rachel Green 2016

old laptop
got going again
112 updates
failure to configure:
reverting changes


© Rachel Green 2016

new beds
suffer design flaw:
cheap bases

we make repairs
modifications to design
to prevent collapse

simple braces would suffice


© Rachel Green 2016

crying dog. Old age brings terrors.

© Rachel Green 2016

daily 21st February 2016

passel [pas-uh l] noun
1. a group or lot of indeterminate number:
a passel of dignitaries.

mad old lady
with a passel of dogs
and one cat

20160221_104938



Facebook Haiku

February 21 writing prompt: ZITHER

on the wall
her dusty instruments
silent house

for NaHaiWriMo



Alas, I'm not allowed to drive for the next two to four weeks. So no KAPAP for me.


Something that made me smile today:

getting a couple of (small) jobs done





Still taking it easy.


You've been reading Of Literary Bent. I thank you.

Sunday, 21 February 2016

short forms 21st February 2016

no love
for the demons?
no-one will believe her
stories about invisible
people


© Rachel Green 2016

no sunshine
on black-bordered skies
soaring gulls


© Rachel Green 2016

the side of my face
less droopy this morning
returned ache
not toothache, though,
more jaw and throat


© Rachel Green 2016

morning time
I have to wake up DK
extra early

the child needs a lift
from her night of gaming
with the boys

at least there's a smile


© Rachel Green 2016

death. the delight of uninterrupted sleep.

© Rachel Green 2016

Saturday, 20 February 2016

daily 20th February 2016

abstemious [ab-stee-mee-uh s] adjective
1. sparing or moderate in eating and drinking; temperate in diet.
2. characterized by abstinence:
an abstemious life.
3. sparing:
an abstemious diet.

can someone convince me
to be abstemious with food
or just not eat at all?


Freelance parcel delivery guy appears with his daughter . As I sign the sheet the little girls asks him "Is that a girl?". He panics, says "shush. It doesn't matter." I smile and say (in my deep voice) "Yes. I am a girl."

20160220_115501


Facebook Haiku

February 20 writing prompt: ZIT.

macrocosm
her eyes in the theatre
surgical removal


for NaHaiWriMo



walked into town with Lu and the dogs.


Something that made me smile today:

the ability to move my mouth




Nothing done today. Sorry.


You've been reading Of Literary Bent. I thank you.

short forms 20th February 2016

how soon
will she make it
to her sweet sixteenth year?
Fifteen can last forever if
she's dead


© Rachel Green 2016

ripples of pavement ponds
the aftermath of rain
crushed crocuses


© Rachel Green 2016

coming soon
a novel about young mums
with no expectations
not so much a fantasy
as a kitchen sink drama


© Rachel Green 2016

less exciting
one side of my face
still droops
oddly, I can smell candy:
hot pink swizzles
and orange refreshers
and my toe, agonising


© Rachel Green 2016

Health concerns. Time for living wills

© Rachel Green 2016

daily 19th February 2016

cosmology [koz-mol-uh-jee] noun
1. the branch of philosophy dealing with the origin and general structure of the universe, with its parts, elements, and laws, and especially with such of its characteristics as space, time, causality, and freedom.
2. the branch of astronomy that deals with the general structure and evolution of the universe.

scowling at demons
as they laugh at her notion
of cosmology


early trip to doctor's.
I either had a TIA? or a incident of Bell's palsy. We'll find out which with a blood test and a trip to the stroke clinic. Bottom line is I'm old and overweight so get my books while I'm still writing. Support me by buying my books and clamouring for HBO to televise Harold and Jasfoup.


Facebook Haiku

February 19 writing prompt: ZIRCONIUM

fantastic voyage
in a zirconium submarine
pesky white cells


for NaHaiWriMo



20160217_112048


Something that made me smile today:

Still being alive




DK and Lu very protective of me.

old wallpaper; The Fine Art and Craft of 1960s Wallpaper Manufacturing | Colossal

This Year's Best Press Photos Are Absolutely Electrifying


Fine Art Photography With Internal Organs


You've been reading Of Literary Bent. I thank you.

Thursday, 18 February 2016

short story

Suicide Note

She practices his signature. Tight loops, more like the output from a demented ECG than the cursive hand of an architect. What right has it to be illegible? Is it because of the careful block lettering on his drawings of houses and the recreation area between two blocks of flats, where kids are supposed to find amusement in old chip wrappers and discarded needles, and never mind the falling Budweiser bottles from the seventeenth floor. If the kids weren't brained outright they suffered explosions of translucent green shards sharp enough to peel the skin from their faces.

She scrawls his name over and over, filling the yellow pages of a legal pad with signatures of every size. Pages and pages of mnemonic scribbles. After an hour her loops become lighter, more fluid. After two hours she stops seeing the letters in her head, trusting her cramped fingers to respond to muscle memory. After three hours she signs the document.

His body is already cool to the touch, the incisions along his wrist bloodless valleys along the lines of his arteries. She dips a corner of the document in red-stained water, just enough to smudge the date, wraps his fingers around the pen.

His was the selfish act, his desire to be with the women he loved outweighing his responsibility to his fourteen year old daughter.

At least she'll get to keep the house, now.

Poem 2016 / 25

Gula

I eat when I'm depressed
it gives me a moment of solace
when I can think about joy
the pleasure of eating;
the pleasure of taste
then the guilt
and the weight gain
which brings depression again.

I used to be active
dropped all the weight I'd put on
developed muscles where I never had before
fighting fit, as they say,
but money became scarcer
and criticism was levelled
at old ladies beating young girls
for beribboned golden brass
so I gave up
because it hurt too much
inside.

I wish I could smoke again.
A filthy habit
but it stopped me eating
I used to be thin.

My kingdom for a smoke
but I don't have a kingdom
just a black, black dog.

short forms 18th February 2016

Aunty
fights the devil
"temptation is evil"
this from the woman who killed three
husbands


© Rachel Green 2016

black crow
against the February blue
telephone wires


© Rachel Green 2016

mouth problems
my left cheek swollen
half a Godfather
An abscess, perhaps?
but there's little pain


© Rachel Green 2016

first review
of my Gilded Cage story
favourable

Some typos and missed commas
but a great story
unforeseen twist

Thanks, Chris :)


© Rachel Green 2016

Ulcer. She missed a dental appointment.

© Rachel Green 2016

Wednesday, 17 February 2016

short forms 17th February 2016

open
to red curtains
her last view of her mom
as the coffin is rolled away.
Hellfire.


© Rachel Green 2016

raindrops
hanging limply from bare branches
plastic bags


© Rachel Green 2016

toothache
more in the gums
than the teeth
a product of the cold
since the ache moves


© Rachel Green 2016

ticking clock
the whine of the washing machine
spin cycle

computer hum
the cooling radiator
click-click-click

morning sounds


© Rachel Green 2016

Frustration. "Fuck" becomes a spoken comma.

© Rachel Green 2016

Tuesday, 16 February 2016

short forms 16th February 2016

scaled down
a girl's story
as she suffers from a
bout of severe depression.
Demons.


© Rachel Green 2016

morning frost
sparkles under a clear sky
broken baubles


© Rachel Green 2016

no love
an act of kindness
disregarded
daily emails from the bank
get your shit together


© Rachel Green 2016

internal debate
about rejoining a gym
decided

I really can't afford
the weekly fee due
when I'm overdrawn

movie deal, please!


© Rachel Green 2016

snot ridden. the misery of winter

© Rachel Green 2016

Monday, 15 February 2016

short forms 15th February 2016


house proud
wish fulfillment
the old house collapses
into an architect's shattered
dream home


© Rachel Green 2016

under the motorbike
a nest of dry leaves
next door's cat


© Rachel Green 2016

she takes
the 6:50 to London
every day
now she has anxiety dreams
about missing it


© Rachel Green 2016

we go back
to Gran's house
after she died

old perfume
pervades the plaster
floorboards creak

is there anybody there?


© Rachel Green 2016

child ridden. a surprising apt autocorrect.

© Rachel Green 2016

Sunday, 14 February 2016

I Heart You

20150830_131008

short forms 14th February 2016

the house,
wish fulfillment.
high functioning young girl
struggling with depression and
hatred


© Rachel Green 2016

yellow flowers
appear on the winter jasmine
tiny finches


© Rachel Green 2016

lupercalia
I make cards for my people
but they're away
no traditional illustrations
but the intent seems clear


© Rachel Green 2016

the funny thing
is that I can mostly hide it
from the people around me

they see it as laziness
the desire to play computer games
rather than train or write

funny peculiar, not funny ha-ha


© Rachel Green 2016

trying to write poetry through tears

© Rachel Green 2016

Saturday, 13 February 2016

short forms 13th February 2016

butch girls
with femme haircuts
irresistible charm
Remember Shane from the L Word?
Like that.


© Rachel Green 2016

mistlethrush
checking the bay tree for insects
sparrows


© Rachel Green 2016

loosely themed dreams
about double mattresses
and disposal thereof
I wake before the alarm
feeling vaguely depressed


© Rachel Green 2016

the grandson
has a bad cold
DK babysits

DK gets the 'flu
Lu succumbs as well
I stay away

A week later. Sore throat


© Rachel Green 2016

Index cards. Each a thousand words.

© Rachel Green 2016

daily 12th Februsay 2016

calumniate [kuh-luhm-nee-eyt] verb (used with object), calumniated, calumniating.
1. to make false and malicious statements about; slander.

social networking
a chance to calumniate
behind a proxy


How Trippy. I lived in Alvechurch for 18 years
20160211_103813



Facebook Haiku

February 12 writing prompt: ZEUGMA (a Western term for a word that has a meaning with what comes before and after it, as in “killing time flies”—like a pivot line in haiku).

love-hate relationship
my on again-off again girlfriend
becomes an utter cunt


for NaHaiWriMo



Walked dogs with Lina,


Something that made me smile today:

Lina did laundry, washing up, and cleaned the floors. Who is this adult?




Began re-plotting Damaged Goods.


7 Amazing Hacks For Every Dog Owner

Fascinating game:
BBC - KS2 Bitesize Games - Questionaut : Game Fullscreen


Written today:

poem - 24


You've been reading Of Literary Bent. I thank you.

Friday, 12 February 2016

Poem 2016 / 024

Moon Pie


Let me find the secrets
hidden in the folds of your skin,
the buttercup pollen along the line of your scapula
and the faded daist petals
in the shallow cave of your ankle bone.
A lake of tears in the suprasternal hollow
brushed by the line of red snail trail
left as my lips immerse in salt.
A single wiry hair pokes proud
from your areola. You catch a breath
as I grasp it between my teeth and pull.
Your nipple hardens, the skin around it puckering
a princess waiting for the frog's embrace.
The sweet scent of you released with folded knees
corded muscle down the back of your legs
rope-created caverns as I lick the sweat
from the backs of your knees
and in the darkness
the strength of your fingers gripping my hair
pulling, pulling me upwards to the tidal cavern,
to drink from the chalice of life.
Put away your resurrection fantasies
for I have found the Grail.

short forms 12th February 2016

no fear
for the new look
a touch of old magic
to make her socially aware
of dicks


© Rachel Green 2016

sudden colour
in an otherwise bare garden
crisp packet


© Rachel Green 2016

happy morning
with the laundry on
washing-up done
I'd never have guessed
the teenager had done it


© Rachel Green 2016

she works from home
wearing the tee shirt
I bought her

not work appropriate
but her conference call
is voice only

Her boss wants to skype...


© Rachel Green 2016

She puts on weight. Contemplate suicide.

© Rachel Green 2016

Thursday, 11 February 2016

Daily 11th February 2016

interstitial [in-ter-stish-uh l] adjective
1. pertaining to, situated in, or forming interstices.
2. Anatomy. situated between the cells of a structure or part:
interstitial tissue.
noun
3. Crystallography. an imperfection in a crystal caused by the presence of an extra atom in an otherwise complete lattice.

it takes her years
an evolved interstitial
adjunct to triad


20160211_102832



Facebook Haiku

February 11 writing prompt: ZEST

fruit bowl
a delight in the offering
vinegar flies


for NaHaiWriMo



watched 'My Old Lady' with Maggie Smith. Excellent film.


Something that made me smile today:

walked all three dogs into town.





very quiet day.


You've been reading Of Literary Bent. I thank you.

short forms 11th February 2016

short story
fails the cut
the anthology is
too darned short to be considered.
dammit


© Rachel Green 2016

blue tit
checking for insects
cherry bark


© Rachel Green 2016

early riser
I take Lu to the station
wet hair
the dogs get excited
thinking it's walk time


© Rachel Green 2016

dear friend
still suffering
botched procedure

doctoral nonsense
brought on complications
serious condition

compensation deserved


© Rachel Green 2016

Fooling herself, she writes shitty poetry

© Rachel Green 2016

Wednesday, 10 February 2016

Poetry 2016 / 023

Wednesday

I never imagined a love
that could encompass Argyll socks
and the diamonds she wears
on her diarrhoea coloured tanktops.
Hair shorter than my father's;
flatter chest, the better for the line
of an Oxford shirt
with cufflinks, natch,
and corded slacks that went out
before I turned teenager.
Wooden soled brogues with a tongue
banned before the watershed
but with a twinkle in her eye
and a love that fills me like a Brazil nut
fills the stone heart space of a date.


© Rachel Green 2016

short forms 10th February 2016

long tubes
pushed down her throat
to evacuate her
stomach of the tablets she took.
Die(t)


© Rachel Green 2016

twilight
a flock of pigeons
over the road gritter


© Rachel Green 2016

early morning
to take Lu to the station
London work
I doze in front of the computer
until the phone wakes me up


© Rachel Green 2016

sofa
still fast asleep
muddy dogs

I need to launder
the once-white covers
de-dog them

furry toe stretches


© Rachel Green 2016

Towel cupboard. The cat's blanket fort.

© Rachel Green 2016

daily 9th February 2016

vicissitude [vi-sis-i-tood, -tyood] noun
1. a change or variation occurring in the course of something.
2. interchange or alternation, as of states or things.
3. vicissitudes, successive, alternating, or changing phases or conditions, as of life or fortune; ups and downs:
They remained friends through the vicissitudes of 40 years.
4. regular change or succession of one state or thing to another.
5. change; mutation; mutability.

all that you love is
subject to vicissitude
theirs or sometimes yours



The river Rother flooded



Facebook Haiku

February 9 writing prompt: ZEPPELIN

children's playground
as artist in residence
I paint twenty-six walls


for NaHaiWriMo






Something that made me smile today:

dog walking in the sunshine





I love these. Ceramics Imprinted with Patterns of Vintage Typewriter Letters by Laura C. Hewitt | Colossal. Actually, I wish I could show you the ceramics I was making in the mid 80s -- I used letterpress letters for exactly this.



Written today:

nothing


You've been reading Of Literary Bent. I thank you.

Tuesday, 9 February 2016

short forms 9th February 2016

schoolgirl
invents a friend
psychiatric problems.
No-one else can see her bestie.
Demon


© Rachel Green 2016

pre dawn
on the dogwalking path
the river Rother


© Rachel Green 2016

he doesn't like
the astronaut curtain
cold plastic
I rescue it for use
as a crafting tool


© Rachel Green 2016

waiting
for the gates to open
trading estate

several cars
full of dodgy looking men
cradling power tools

the dogs whine, growl, cry


© Rachel Green 2016

early riser. The cat wants breakfast.

© Rachel Green 2016

Monday, 8 February 2016

daily 8th February 2016

sagacity [suh-gas-i-tee] noun
1. acuteness of mental discernment and soundness of judgment.

youth's sagacity
came at a high cost to his
skateboard and elbows


Spring Bulbs
dog walking
Tesco shop with the car


Facebook Haiku

February 8 writing prompt: ZEPHYR (a gentle breeze).

warm evening
leaftop susurrus
biting midges


for NaHaiWriMo



writing, readin, gaming


Something that made me smile today:

odd jobs in the house done



Alas, no transport
so no KAPAP


Remember The Canterbury is The Expanse's Version Of The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald


Written today:

poem -
odd short (240)


You've been reading Of Literary Bent. I thank you.

Insurance Claim



Everyone admired the stained glass window at St. Mary Magdalene's church. Set high above the altar on the chancel wall, it depicted Jesus preaching from the mound, the Son of God in the centre, top, and a sea of peasants spreading out and down until they were almost life size at the bottom.

Father Dunn smoothed down a piece of lead. “It could have been terrible, but your prompt arrival deterred the thieves.”

“Be that as it may, sir,” PC Kupil referred to his notebook, “but the window is twenty feet by twelve. If the thieves scarpered when they saw me coming, how did they have time to take their ladders and scaffolding?”

“The lord moves in mysterious ways.” Father Dunn led him away. “No need to even write a report. Could I interest you in a cup of tea and a bourbon biscuit.”

“Not while I'm on duty, sir.” He looked back at the church. It was always difficult to make out the details of stained glass from the outside and he'd never been inside to know what it looked like properly, but he was fairly sure the peasants shouldn't have been depicted taking pictures of The Lord Our Saviour with their mobile phones.

short forms 8th February 2016

insults
make bad feelings
but her thoughts of revenge
are turned inward toward herself
tablets


© Rachel Green 2016

kitchen scraps
worms enjoy the bounty
dead snake


© Rachel Green 2016

rain, rain
spatters on my window
dog walking time
the sky, pissing on my head
tiny drops of weak acid


© Rachel Green 2016

old films
the Beatles
in 'Help'

meta staging
advanced for its time
commonplace now

dreadful acting


© Rachel Green 2016

Nightmares. She giggles in her sleep

© Rachel Green 2016

Sunday, 7 February 2016

short forms 7th February 2016

she lives
embracing life
in the hippie commune
the gender fluidity of
loving


© Rachel Green 2016

sparrow
on a television aerial
plastic bag


© Rachel Green 2016

a book
from Amazon
with actual pages
I'm still stuck in the tedium
of The Bone Clocks


© Rachel Green 2016

they babysit
for the toddler grandchild
devoted

a morning
of Peppa Pig and Jingle Bells
in February

happy child


© Rachel Green 2016

broken jaw. She forgives him again.

© Rachel Green 2016

Saturday, 6 February 2016

Poem 2016 / 022


High Collars

Rainfall
dripping through bare branches
churning the mud
scattering pollen
from the first touch of ash flowers.
Snowdrops dashed
hoop-skirted children labour in mud
while beneath the shelter
of yew and holly
a bed of dry leaves,
skeletons of needles to discourage loitering.

Shaking water from fur coats
old ladies with muddy bellies
tramping through thickets
smelling the latest news.

© Rachel Green 2016

short forms 6th February 2016

lady
becomes teacher
elementary school
they don't realise she's a demon's
daughter


© Rachel Green 2016

cold rain
dashed to smithereens
the first snowdrops


© Rachel Green 2016

car repairs
with no shelter
heavy rain
trying to hold an umbrella
and attach a wing mirror


© Rachel Green 2016

residential road
cars parked on both sides
one of them ours

bus drivers
don't give a monkey's
rip off wing mirrors

two in a week


© Rachel Green 2016

rain, rain. dejected dog walking. mud.

© Rachel Green 2016

daily 5th February 2016

nugatory [noo-guh-tawr-ee, -tohr-ee, nyoo-] adjective
1. of no real value; trifling; worthless.
2. of no force or effect; ineffective; futile; vain.
3. not valid.

her cheating husband
and his nugatory pleas.
Thriving bamboo patch





Facebook Haiku

February 5 writing prompt: ZED / ZEE (the letter itself)

well-meaning  friend
changes his name to just 'Z'
to my 'Omega'


for NaHaiWriMo



went to ASDA and bought two duvet sets and three sheets


Something that made me smile today:

getting the laundry done. Small things, I know.




a bit of writing, gaming, TV




Written today:

poem - 21
Gilded Cage ()


You've been reading Of Literary Bent. I thank you.

Friday, 5 February 2016

Poem 2016 / 021

Life Lessons

last lesson of the afternoon
while her blouse dampens at the armpits
as she hides a yawn behind one hand.
History, and the open windows admit
the hum of lawnmowing,
as the caretaker walking back and forth,
back and forth,
rugby-shirt stripes on the playing field
where older boys in summer whites
pretend to be civilised one bowl at a time.

At night it's all “Julie, give me a handjob
and I'll give you a pound,” “just touch my cock
for a cigarette,” “how do you do question seven
on the maths homework?”

She doesn't tell her parents
why she comes home covered in grass stains
and smelling of beer and cigarettes
with her hair tousled
and the beginnings of a black eye.
The call her a tomboy and let her
cut her hair short and play football
and boxing for girls though no other girls
are signed up for it.

The gnats come out when the streetlights
glow dim and red in the evening air,
when the strains of Coronation Street
echo through the gullies of the new estate.

“You dirty bastard, What's my mom
going to say when she sees this stain?”
She buries her skirt at the bottom of the washing
basket and hopes she doesn't notice.


© Rachel Green 2016


Thank you for stopping by

short forms 4th February 2016

Cornwall
where high hedges
give way to sunken roads
and the path to her redemption
is dirt


© Rachel Green 2016

flashes of colour
among the crocus and snowdrops
crisp packets


© Rachel Green 2016

a day off
leads to renewed interest
in writing
some editing to do
then a return to Broken Goods


© Rachel Green 2016

lesbian tale
leaves no room for sex
platonic love

just as well
when the ladies involved
are sisters

but they didn't know it


© Rachel Green 2016

mashed potato. A memory of Mum.

© Rachel Green 2016

Thursday, 4 February 2016

daily February 4th 2016

desiderata [dih-sid-uh-rey-tuh, -rah-, -zid-] plural noun, singular desideratum.
1. things wanted or needed; the plural of desideratum:
“Happily-ever-after” and “eternal love” appear to be the desiderata of the current generation; to whom “fat chance” say those of us who are older, wiser, and more curmudgeonly.
Synonyms: essentials, necessities, requisites, sine qua nons.

a happiness dream;
her prime desiderata
drama-free girlfriends







Facebook Haiku

Feb 4 prompt: ZEBRA

panic drill
at a Japanese zoo
escaping zebra

for NaHaiWriMo



shopping in town with the dogs


Something that made me smile today:

helping a friend




editing, gaming

Turns Out Replying to Spam Emails Can Make for a Pretty Exciting Adventure - Cheezburger

I need a studio so I can paint again; Artist Samantha Keely Smith Explores Powerful Collisions of Dark and Light in Her Abstract Elemental Paintings | Colossal


Written today:

poem -
Gilded Cage ()


You've been reading Of Literary Bent. I thank you.

Short Forms 4th February 2016

what now?
their adventure
shattered multiple lives
and left an aftermath of fear
broken


© Rachel Green 2016

scattered sunlight
I add more prisms
to the window


© Rachel Green 2016

index cards
a ragged pile
on the bookshelf
soon it'll be time to retrieve them
back to Damaged Goods


© Rachel Green 2016

first round of edits
the new story
needs continuity
that's my work for today
open documents
and track changes
comments welcome


© Rachel Green 2016

old novel. full of fond memories.

© Rachel Green 2016

daily 3rd February 2016

alpenglow [al-puh n-gloh] noun
1. a reddish glow often seen on the summits of mountains just before sunrise or just after sunset.

the nearest she got
to seeing an alpenglow
Sheffield gasworks

20160203_151036



Facebook Haiku

feb3 Zealot

campaign zealotry
just replace 'Jew' with 'Muslim'
American Pride


for NaHaiWriMo



Ah, got a good reception on the novella. Some minor changes to make.


Something that made me smile today:

The dogs actually doing as they were told.




A day off. No writing, no stress.

Gaming, TV, a film (The Gunman 2015 - Sean Penn doing Krav Maga)




Written today:

nothing


You've been reading Of Literary Bent. I thank you.

Wednesday, 3 February 2016

short forms 3rd February 2016

endings
the brother lives
and the dad kills himself
in the way of his own mother
voices


© Rachel Green 2016

sunshine
a brace of pigeons
fucking


© Rachel Green 2016

quick dash
to open the back gate
window cleaner
too lazy for shoes
I now have wet socks


© Rachel Green 2016

novella
sent to editor
long delayed

it was all the better
for the elapsed time
and the evolved plot

quite pleased by it


© Rachel Green 2016

chekov's gun. fires at the close

© Rachel Green 2016

daily 2nd February 2016

aeromancy [air-uh-man-see] noun
1. the prediction of future events from observation of weather conditions.

cirrus cats and dogs
my aeromancy wizard
predicts heavy rain




Facebook Haiku

February 2 writing prompt: ZAZEN

silent room
contemplating flight algorithms
lazy bluebottle


for NaHaiWriMo


Happy Imbolc :)




Something that made me smile today:

Finished 'Gilded Cage' (message if you want to beta it) at 32K. It could easily have been a novel.






10 Rare Historical Photos That You Might Not Have Seen


Written today:

poem -
Gilded Cage (3500)


You've been reading Of Literary Bent. I thank you.

Tuesday, 2 February 2016

short forms 2nd February 2016

close story
the end of days
showdown at the old house
her da fighting with a demon
dead ma


© Rachel Green 2016

windy day
travelling slowly down the road
my wheelie bin


© Rachel Green 2016

editor's email
about the delayed story
"please send file"
Oh dear. I'll have to cut a side plot
and finish it today


© Rachel Green 2016

stress test
riding a bus
someone pulls a gun

I react quickly
isolating the gun
saving another passenger

commended for my reactions


© Rachel Green 2016

guilt. my depression bleeds writing delays

© Rachel Green 2016

Daily February 1st 2016

nonce [nons] noun
1. the present, or immediate, occasion or purpose (usually used in the phrase for the nonce).

I will never use
the phrase 'for the nonce' thanks to
prison rebranding






Facebook Haiku

Feb 1 Zap

shaft of sunshine
a zap of inspiration
writer's blessing


for NaHaiWriMo



a good chunk of writing today. Nearly finished. Anyone want to beta read a 30K novella for me?


Something that made me smile today:

KAPAP awesome




some gaming, though ESO was glitching




Written today:

poem -
Gilded Cage (3000)


You've been reading Of Literary Bent. I thank you.

Monday, 1 February 2016

Short forms 1st February 2016

no trace
of the mother
but the daughter turns up
as an unexpected party.
Herself.


© Rachel Green 2016

horizontal tree
head bowed in the gale
bescarfed lady


© Rachel Green 2016

pleasant day
writing and gaming
with Lu
she wears headphones all day
watching 'The Good Wife'


© Rachel Green 2016

Gula:
Spanish for the desire to eat
simply for the taste

she can relate to this
but not to bulimia
(she abhors vomiting)

this is why she's fat


© Rachel Green 2016

Christian 'sanctity of marriage'? Hate crime.

© Rachel Green 2016

daily 31st January 2016

cryophilic [krahy-oh-fil-ik] adjective
1. preferring or thriving at low temperatures.


she won't back down
in the face of criticism
cryophilic marriage



computer reboot. lost the daily




Facebook Haiku

jan 31 - Yukon

winter chill
vegetable patch beer trap
frozen slugs




for NaHaiWriMo



Stephanie / DK: The Cost of my Sexual Assault


Written today:

poem -
Gilded Cage (1400)


You've been reading Of Literary Bent. I thank you.