The flames they call me and others to the fire pit. To the pit to show me the flames dreams. Selling me the images and feelings they wish to share. I wish I could respond to each and every call of the fire. But life just keeps demanding that I live it. Stories do call from the flames. Craving the company of storytellers, I certainly do.
Here I am sitting looking for two hundred words while the world is asleep. Searching, seeking, rummaging and rifling my inner self for a tale to tell. Before the world awakes and demands my full attention. Grown they maybe but the family still needs dinner. My clothes still need washing and my home is looking oh so overly lived in. will I ever find these two hundred words for the Berkhamsted poetry society before todays living gets in their way. My head full of slow cooker beef stew and washing machine settings hiding any story of woe, wonder and excitement. Chasing stars and watching sunsets not included here.
Sorry to you all who were expecting a bit more from these words.
I am just letting the world know about these wonderful anthologies. I have a poem in each of the first two episodes. they are full of other poems in support of those with mental health issues.
welcome to this evenings meeting at the #dverse bar.
the prompts have made my mind drift to this picture and I cannot get it out of my mind.
I am planning to use this in a book of poems and short stories I am trying to put together. but at present am struggling trying to edit. what to put in and what to leave out has me flummoxed.
Crows Water colour picture by Anousjka McDonald October 2022.
Inspired by and to accompany this poem.
Tolerance and apathy are the last virtues of a dying society- Aristotle
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