I read over on Mary's blog about Scribd. I just wanted to try it out. So I uploaded three pieces. Here is the url. http://www.scribd.com/share/upload/12809453/24ph5dfa6tfnzuxhqume
Make sure to stop by Mary's page!
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Fickle FInger of Fate
The fickle finger of fate drew in my sand
round and strong
straight and bold
It connected crazy dots
dots like dog poo on the side of the road next to the freight train that ran over the bird that the dog was chasing.
The fickle finger of fate swirled around a purple stone and made a moat. Miniature and dirty muddy brown from the rain water that fell off of the roof to the stream down the gutter to the ditch dug by the dastardly dog that pooed by the train, the same puddle that some neighbor child stomped in right before that muddy brown drop splashed into the moat around the purple rock.
The fickle finger of fate scratched its nails down the sloping mounds of playground sand. It created tunnels, channels where reddened leaves rolled down in autumn races like maple red chariots. They crossed the path where the purple stone lay surrounded by a brown moat. The rumpled leaves scuttled to the finish line by the other side of the sandbox. they settled first the red, then the red-Orange, then the burnt orange- first , second, third place at the wooden finish line of fate. Three wrenched from tree limbs by wet downpour that hit the roof that splashed down the gutter into the puddle of poo made by the dog that chomped on a bird run over by a train that kicked up the purple rock that fate moated that filled with the same muddy water. Now, these reddened leaves three, plastered with race sweat from running down the channels that crossed the rock that fate scratched were smothered against the log from the tree that lent its bough to build the sandbox where fickle fate's finger drew in my sand.
*free write based on prompt*
round and strong
straight and bold
It connected crazy dots
dots like dog poo on the side of the road next to the freight train that ran over the bird that the dog was chasing.
The fickle finger of fate swirled around a purple stone and made a moat. Miniature and dirty muddy brown from the rain water that fell off of the roof to the stream down the gutter to the ditch dug by the dastardly dog that pooed by the train, the same puddle that some neighbor child stomped in right before that muddy brown drop splashed into the moat around the purple rock.
The fickle finger of fate scratched its nails down the sloping mounds of playground sand. It created tunnels, channels where reddened leaves rolled down in autumn races like maple red chariots. They crossed the path where the purple stone lay surrounded by a brown moat. The rumpled leaves scuttled to the finish line by the other side of the sandbox. they settled first the red, then the red-Orange, then the burnt orange- first , second, third place at the wooden finish line of fate. Three wrenched from tree limbs by wet downpour that hit the roof that splashed down the gutter into the puddle of poo made by the dog that chomped on a bird run over by a train that kicked up the purple rock that fate moated that filled with the same muddy water. Now, these reddened leaves three, plastered with race sweat from running down the channels that crossed the rock that fate scratched were smothered against the log from the tree that lent its bough to build the sandbox where fickle fate's finger drew in my sand.
*free write based on prompt*
Monday, June 15, 2009
The Devil's Friends by JL Denman 2009
The Devil's Friends
Come in packs
devour in hordes
sabotage en mass.
The Devil's friends rip and tear
scream and howl
beat and pulverize
The Devil's friends ain't no friends of mine
ain't no friends of yours
ain't no friends at all
The Devil's friends:
Depression -rides on black wings of Hopelessness
Envy- strides on the stones of cobbled Insecurity
Violence- wars from the back of elephantine Greed
Isolation- prances on the cold headstones of Rejection and Fear
Lasciviousness- sidles forth on silken sheets of Inadequacy
The Devil's Friends
ain't no friends at all
Come in packs
devour in hordes
sabotage en mass.
The Devil's friends rip and tear
scream and howl
beat and pulverize
The Devil's friends ain't no friends of mine
ain't no friends of yours
ain't no friends at all
The Devil's friends:
Depression -rides on black wings of Hopelessness
Envy- strides on the stones of cobbled Insecurity
Violence- wars from the back of elephantine Greed
Isolation- prances on the cold headstones of Rejection and Fear
Lasciviousness- sidles forth on silken sheets of Inadequacy
The Devil's Friends
ain't no friends at all
Friday, June 12, 2009
365 pic challenge
I started a new blog here in Blogger for the 3654 photo challenge. Feel free to visit.
I am finding this lovely that you can have several blogs from one account here at Blogger! very convenient. :) Here is the new link http://jldenman365challenge.blogspot.com/
I am finding this lovely that you can have several blogs from one account here at Blogger! very convenient. :) Here is the new link http://jldenman365challenge.blogspot.com/
Sunday, June 7, 2009
It came in a box by JL Denman 2009
It came in a box
It came in a box. Beating, dripping, oozing red rivers.
It came in a bow, blackened, burnt, hardly living.
It came in a bow, shredded, stabbed, honing by two veins of hope.
I gave it to you
No, you found it
Maybe it was cosmic intervention that sent you on the trail searching for the devastated mess trapped in a strong box of bone and metal and jagged spikes of pain.
Somewhere out there, buried under rubble, drowned in hot tar, bound by terrible marsh roots it hunkered.
But through rivers festering with black mosquitoes, jungle snakes, poisoned reptiles, wicked wizards in too green garb marred by to sick vomit, you traversed. You crept. You slouched. You charged. You searched and looked and scoured.
I gave it to you
No, you found it.
Cosmic intervention and your strong will carved out trenches, slaughtered feral beast to find it- it- trapped in the hell of loss, rejection, pain, despair, devastation.
You,
You
you rescued it.
that dripping, lacerated, singed, sliver of my heart left- left nearly destroyed in a box.
It came in a box. Beating, dripping, oozing red rivers.
It came in a bow, blackened, burnt, hardly living.
It came in a bow, shredded, stabbed, honing by two veins of hope.
I gave it to you
No, you found it
Maybe it was cosmic intervention that sent you on the trail searching for the devastated mess trapped in a strong box of bone and metal and jagged spikes of pain.
Somewhere out there, buried under rubble, drowned in hot tar, bound by terrible marsh roots it hunkered.
But through rivers festering with black mosquitoes, jungle snakes, poisoned reptiles, wicked wizards in too green garb marred by to sick vomit, you traversed. You crept. You slouched. You charged. You searched and looked and scoured.
I gave it to you
No, you found it.
Cosmic intervention and your strong will carved out trenches, slaughtered feral beast to find it- it- trapped in the hell of loss, rejection, pain, despair, devastation.
You,
You
you rescued it.
that dripping, lacerated, singed, sliver of my heart left- left nearly destroyed in a box.
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Haiku Fridays
Over on Myspace I belong to group called Haiku Fridays. These are a few I wrote in 2007 for the events.
#1
Humid gaiety
children's watershed laughter
smothers summer love
#2
weeping willow tears
dim marshes sultry essence
a southern death bead
#3 Crisp snow crunches down
Crystal sickles sparkle white
bleeding polar bears
#4
not half full round moon
raging werewolves ramped
eat fury dreamings
#5 night birds sing last call
sun rise o'er dark waters
when will my time end?
#6 yellow daffodils
nod happy in the wind
child smells the way
#7
above grey clouds pout
blue tears fall on mountain's back
nature nourishes
#8
mountain mist covers
quiet swaddles the whole world
still patience imbibes
#1
Humid gaiety
children's watershed laughter
smothers summer love
#2
weeping willow tears
dim marshes sultry essence
a southern death bead
#3 Crisp snow crunches down
Crystal sickles sparkle white
bleeding polar bears
#4
not half full round moon
raging werewolves ramped
eat fury dreamings
#5 night birds sing last call
sun rise o'er dark waters
when will my time end?
#6 yellow daffodils
nod happy in the wind
child smells the way
#7
above grey clouds pout
blue tears fall on mountain's back
nature nourishes
#8
mountain mist covers
quiet swaddles the whole world
still patience imbibes
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
SCHOOL IS OVER
SCHOOL IS OVER!THE WITCH IS GONE!
THE BASTARD IS AWAY!
I'M FREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)