#Wordle 396 ~Yesterday’s Moon #Poetry

 

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Yesterday’s moon

One forgotten spirit walks

beneath yesterday’s cloudy moon.

Searching for alchemy, transformation

old age magic to remove the sting of memory.

The song remembered under dark skies

to have a voice, to sing again.

The pull, the swell of life below,

a mix of bittersweet memory.

Chill thoughts of a life wasted

the need to be born again.

Haunted by the scarred face of the moon.

Would that a strong wind could blow

his spirit newborn,

beneath tomorrow’s full moon...

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#Flash Fiction 99 Word Challenge forThe Carrot Ranch Literary Community #Poetry

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My Bucket

Sacred water, the giver of life

we do everything with it

bathe, clean windows, wash cars

Leave a bowl out for the birds

Christen our new borns

As children, we splash in it

laughing and screaming getting soaking wet

We go boating on a summer afternoon

hand held over the side

Gentle water slipping through our fingers

Hidden trails of water beneath our feet

The Hindu God of Oceans, Varuna

Salty water, secret life below

Water is calm and violent

we cannot do without it

It sustains all life, take time

to bless the magic that falls on us…

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#Writephoto ~ Rift #Poetry

Thursday photo prompt: Rift #writephoto

 

Image by scvincent.com

 

Torn

Torn apart, my best piece of writing,

or so I thought by a cruel comment.

Like the backwash of a wave broken on our beach

The many rocks worn, cracked across their middle

still able to give a warm seat when I tire.

I have my favourites, where I can

run my hand across the small scars.

Straight lines, cruel whip marks

we all age and crack given enough time

The road marks on our faces as we age

The map of time passing,

the rift that marks all things.

The land falls away leaving a hollow

for the unknown traveller to fall int

A large cloud falls apart as if someone

had pulled a cotton ball in two.

It drifts on by, to be swallowed

by the other waiting clouds.

Whole again, as we too will be

when one puts a hand out to the other.

The rift is repaired. Would that everything

could be so easily mended

as a cloud drifting by.

With time and water, the force of the oceans,

the cracks in the rocks will be smooth again,

 their story untold. As if age had not touched them.

How do we mend a rift in time itself?

What falls between the space where

time has moved away from itself?

Like the wish written on paper as a child,

folded so many times

hidden in the crack of a rock on the beach.

My own wailing wall.

I have no recollection of the wish coming true

It may have done. Time has taken the memory

As I am sure the sea has taken my piece of paper

Smooth or cracked, a boulder

will tell its own story if you sit awhile…

AAAAA

 

#Jaye’s Journal ~ week 12

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There has been a noticeable air of determination in the office this week. Even Merlin, our cat has spent more time with me, sitting on my desk for all the world as though supervising the whole shooting match.

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And what has triggered this state of affairs?

I think it started when I realised I was in danger of drowning under the growing piles of paperwork on my desk, and that something needed to be done about it and sooner rather than later.

I have known for some time that we have been drifting like a rudderless boat. It was never spoken about, but I think we had slowly abandoned all hope of ever achieving our goals. ‘Maybe one day,’ had turned into ‘In your dreams.’ almost without our noticing.

It was while sorting through the pile of paperwork, that I think I was bitten by some kind of creative bug. I became determined to do something about our state of inertia. Everywhere I looked it seemed, other people were making progress so it was reasonable to assume we could too.

Somewhere among all the paper in front of me had to be the key to our future in the writing business. I was in the habit of saving helpful articles, all claiming to turn me from hopeless to genius in no time at all. So I systematically sorted through the pile, keeping some and discarding others. I started a list of things to do, determined to master or learn one new thing every day.

On day one, I updated our Pinterest boards, adding new pins relating to our book promotion and adding our URL to them all. This, apparently, will increase the traffic to our website.

Day Two, I updated the header menu on our website, adding all of our #BlogBattle posts. Not essential, just something I had been meaning to get around to.

Day Three, we need to find readers, so I start with Twitter. #Amreading. and follow some readers.

Day Four, update our book promo posters. I also took the afternoon off and spent it cuddling our new Great Grandchild, something far more rewarding!

Day Five, read up on creating a street team. We need several readers to help promote my almost finished crime mystery novel. If anyone has any helpful hints for this, please holler!

 

My days are beginning to look quite different now. I write first thing in the morning for at least an hour, more if it’s flowing well. Then I attack the emails. This can take up to two hours. Then it’s social networking and follow-ups until lunch.

I like to do an online jigsaw while I eat, something that is supposed to help my ageing brain! so no guilt there!

After lunch, I post whatever articles we have available, and the rest of the afternoon is dedicated to the new learning routine and or research.

What we need to do, is set up a schedule that will mostly run itself, freeing up some time for other activities.

As that old adage is slowly becoming true around here.

The one about all work and no play…

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Rosie’s #BookReviewTeam #RBRT Murder Undone by Robin Storey @RobinStorey1 #PsychologicalFiction

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A husband murdered. Twenty years of guilt. A chance to undo her crime.

Wealthy socialite Eva Dennehy murdered her first husband Charlie because he was planning to leave her for his mistress. Even her marriage to kind-hearted Edgar can’t blot out her remorse or fill the gap Charlie has left in her life.

When Eva is offered the opportunity to travel back in time and undo her crime as penance, she accepts – what does she have to lose? Back in her old life with Charlie, her passion for him surpassed only by her torment at his infidelity, she is more determined than ever to prevent him from leaving her.

But Eva discovers a sinister side to Charlie she never knew before, and her plan plunges her into a world of crime and depravity. She soon realizes she has even more to lose this time around.

If you love complex, flawed characters, simmering tension and suspense with a twist of noir, you’ll love Robin Storey’s novel of jealousy and betrayal.

 

Our Review

Wealthy couple Eva and Charlie Dennehy had it all and on the surface, they seemed very happy. But deep down, Eva was tortured by Charles’ addiction to other women.

Rather than suffer the agony of him leaving her, she kills him, managing to make it look like a heart attack. She moves on, remarries, but cannot forget her love for Charlie.

Given the chance to go back and change the past, she finds her life worse than before. History had repeated itself and then some.

An unusual story, mixing an element of time travel into a murder romance, altogether fascinating in its complexity. The mix is well balanced, making it an interesting read about love, guilt and redemption.

I loved the main character, Eva Dennehy, she was so real and someone you could identify with.  Someone who is totally believable, even with her flaws.

I didn’t enjoy the depravity and squalor she finds herself involved with, but that was handled with a certain amount of sensitivity.

All in all, this story is deliciously dark and psychologically riveting, just the way I like them!

 

Robin Storey’s Biography

After many years as a freelance writer, I’m now hooked on fiction writing and love being an indie author. I live on the picturesque Sunshine Coast in Queensland Australia, where we complain if the temperature drops to below 14 degrees Centigrade.

I’ve written six books so far – comedy crime How Not To Commit Murder, romantic comedy Perfect Sex, an e-book of four short stories Comedy Shorts, noir romance An Affair With Danger, memoir Making The Breast Of It and my latest publication (May 2017) suspense noir A Time For Penance.

Although I’ve written in a number of genres, crime is the common element in many of them. I derive the most enjoyment from writing dark, gritty novels against a background of crime and criminals, as in An Affair With Danger and A Time For Penance, and future books will be in the crime/suspense/noir genres.

I’d love you to come and visit my website, Storey-Lines, http://storey-lines.com, and check out my blog. If you subscribe to my readers’ group to receive my newsletter on books, reading and all things bookish, you’ll receive a FREE e-book of my novel How Not To Commit Murder.

I’d also love to connect with you on my Facebook page. https://www.facebook.com/RobinStoreywriter

I’m a certified book nerd (too many books, not enough time!) and am a useful team member on quiz nights for the literary questions – but not much else. I enjoy hiking and chilling out at the beach, which is five minutes’ drive from my home. My partner and I completed the Camino Frances pilgrimage across northern Spain in October 2016. A life-changing experience I would highly recommend.

I don’t have any unusual hobbies or strange pets.

 

 

Another memory of the Falls…

 

St. Nectan’s Falls

 

On one of our trips to Cornwall, we decided to seek out St Nectan’s Glen.

Not realising there was a short cut, we took the long walk through the fields along a small path to get to the Falls.  Single file small!

There were cliffs to one side, the other a sheer drop that was full of trees, nothing soft to break a fall. I moaned all the way there, to find the waterfall at the end, the most wonderful sight.

Jaye had stepped into her own paradise, her love of water. It was plain to see, her face lit up as if the sun shone where there was none.

We noticed people high on a ridge, at the top of the waterfall.

Jaye has a fear of heights, but that day she conquered it, to get as close as she could to the top of the Falls. I am not kidding when I say that there was barely room for a pigeon on this ridge. There we were, my entire family, along with any future grandchildren I might have, vanished in fear.

Squeezing past people coming down was the moment I realised just how dangerous this was. Even now, when I think about it, I remember the nightmares I suffered. I still believe we were fools to have climbed up there.

We found our way to the small hut where St Nectan lived out his days. We signed the visitor book. Back on the flat ground, I gave a sigh of relief. Never again, I said, more times than I can count.

The thing I remember most was the deafening sound of the water and how cold it felt. Would I go again?

Maybe, but taking the shortcut, and no climbing high…

 

 

(This was Anita’s memory of the day I posted about HERE  )

Returning Time… #Poetry

 

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Image by jenanita01.com

 

Returning Time

The dead do not lie still.

Their long shadows

search those secret places, pulling your mind apart.

They hide behind damp patches on the wall

waiting for you to scrape through the layers of time.

Old newspapers beneath carpets

Lost photographs at the back of the drawer

A box full of records you can no longer play

Love letters you find.

That distant whisper lets you know

they have come back…

AAAAA