-
Merciless
Waiting on the roadside. What for? To be ticked off, Ground and minced, A pile of drying meat Left to rot and repel Everyone but hungry worms Obese, rolling heavily Yet famished, craving flesh. Is it worth the wait? Don’t peer over my shoulder. It’s just scribbles on parchment. Worry not, it’s but a vain…
-
Disintegrating
Dreams fall apart In my hands Seep through my fingers Into the cracks Through the floor And into the river Of tears and sweat Flowing down the canyons Of the aged face where Dead dreams rot and fester Un-lived, unrealised, gone Then turn to bitter dust Carried by the winds Across the valleys Over the…
-
Writer’s Block: Getting Out of the Rut
I’ve been working on my novel long enough to expect to get stuck in a rut at least once a week. What I make sure, though, is that these ‘recovery periods’ as I call them, do not last for long. Sometimes you can get overwhelmed, tired, stressed out, or simply frightened and short periods of…
-
The Worm
A worm Lives in my throat Gnaws at the core The rotten apple Force-fed every day Eggs pregnant with doubt Wants me to shout Whenever they say ‘Hold your tongue’ ‘Speak not your mind’ It itches me into speech Piercing and clear Muffled in vain Unstoppable ebb and flow Wriggle turns to whisper Moving through…
-
Finding Inspiration – Part One
You must lurk in libraries and climb the stacks like ladders to sniff books like perfume and wear books like hats upon your crazy heads. – Ray Bradbury All writing starts with words – your own, or someone else’s, but where does one find these words? Do you remember the first book that had an impact…
-
Imagine
Imagine being alone Here In this room All on your own No hope No one will appear No expectations The door won’t creak Resigned Ready Aware Of the quiet Of the unspoken whisper Of the unbroken peace Of your own heartbeat The only sound In your head And the traffic underneath The door untouched Air unruffled…
-
Sarajevo: What to Read on Your Way Home
Every day, one way or another, I end up being asked about my identity, which I need to express in the way that will be the clearest to my interlocutor. I end up bringing up my national, professional, private, or whatever identity I am required to present at the time. However, the more I think…
-
On a Cloudy Day
The sun appeared out of nowhere and cast its golden breath across the furniture. It stroked the pillows, ruffled the plant’s rowdy leaves, upset the candle. I blinked a couple of times, and it was gone as if it had never been there before. © 2017 Erna G. – All Rights Reserved
-
Someday
‘OK, we’ll go there someday,’ she said and I said ‘Fine, great’ and walked away since then I’ve been waiting, every day hoping I would not sooner drop dead waiting for her ‘someday’ to come my way via Daily Prompt: Someday © 2017 Erna G.
-
The River
It smells like snow tonight The air splits open your lungs Every breath, a pale sprite Whispers in unknown tongues
Myths & Stories 