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poetry silence stoicism strength women

Filed under silence

I will keep

All our secrets

But not dwell on them

Too often

Enough

Like sips

To moisten the lips

But there is a beast

Which knows no restraint

And there are people

Monsters who would find

Meat and marrow

In releasing him

So, curation

Falls to a tender, attentive

Librarian

Filed under silence

Categories
beauty masculinity poetry stoicism

Another Round

I acknowledge the exhaustion

Alone

This burden of performance

Relinquished after

Before the show

Remove the war paint

Unbuckle the armour

For a time,

Feel each ache and concern

Let them stretch and walk around

Then away

Because I ask nothing of sympathy

Just a moment to contemplate

Check my gut and say

Sometimes I don’t always have

The solution

But, always, I am the solution,

Spectacular when I’m inspired

To be so

But the day calls

Let me know if you are well

The game begins

Another round

And the die is warm

In my palm

Categories
masculinity poetry stoicism women

Other Rooms, Other Times

Some things

Are taken to other rooms

At other times

Like tea ceremonies

Relief like peeling the skin

Of an orange with your thumbs

An anguished strain

Taken to other rooms

Because no one sees tears

And thinks better of them

Outside, everyone

Pukes up their slightest feelings

Invites you to look

At the intestinal mandala on the pavement

Proclaims it a sign of sensitivity

Virtue as they slap palms

Against the smooth surface

Of the tower they climb

But I renounced

My worship

Of furtive Gods,

You cannot lose

A game you do not

Play

And as the victims form a tower

I go to other rooms

Shed a tear for what might have been

What was lost

In the fire

I

Started

Categories
stoicism Uncategorized writing

quiet rock

The pages are done

Writing ahead

A quiet flurry of

Activity as your soft breath

Whispers of rest calling

Letting you sleep

Whilst I attend to my purpose,

This part of me

The certainty of self

Dutiful and oftentimes

Holding in the giddy sweeping

Boyhood we never relinquish

And still the sight of you

Brings it to the surface

Like blood underneath

Skin struck with a telling blow

But I am the rock

Soft only to your touch

But steadfast and I wonder

If it blunts my appeal

But I know no other way

Than this, the purpose and

Its strength, the sustenance

And my goals, polished but not

Stainless

You alongside them

And so, pages done,

I wait for you to awaken

A sleepy smile

And here comes the rush

All over again.

Categories
anxiety beauty creative writing grief loneliness love masculinity maturity nature passion poetry sex stoicism Uncategorized women writing

The End Of The Affair (Quote)

I loved this film, beautifully filmed and devastating. This scene struck me in particular.
Sarah:
Love doesn’t end, just because we don’t see each other.
Maurice Bendrix:
Doesn’t it?
Sarah:
People go on loving God, don’t they? All their lives. Without seeing him.
Maurice Bendrix:
That’s not my kind of love.
Sarah:
Maybe there is no other kind.
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art bath beauty creative writing desire emotion erotic poetry loneliness love lust man masculinity passion poetry psychology seduction sensuality short fiction short stories silence social media stoicism strength Uncategorized wisdom women writing

Reflections in two mirrors

He sent them to be seen by her. That he had tangible proof of his commitment to his purpose and his growth. Each session, each rejection of easy but costly temptation was there in the heft of his pectorals, the lines and striations in his hip flexors and the way that the softness around his jawline was disappearing. He loved the reaction, knowing that she carried the coiling heat of want within her. A talisman against the bland sweep of days. He could not fake the look in his eyes, in a moment sourced in purest expression of his primal, sexual self. Such awareness and acceptance was rare, he had denied it before, but now he was comforted and protected by it.

She struggled with it. She knew the angles to offset the parts of herself that remained distasteful to her. Her body rebelled with the marks of time, but his reaction cast its  magic over her. A litany of informed praise, fuelled by want rather than need. Through him, she saw herself and it rubbed raw against everything else around her. A sweet pain, an eroticized grief that in its rejection, left deep scars that only he would be able to heal.

Now the mirror, the chain of static images connects them both and they pretend it is not there for the sake of sanity.

It remains though, and it would take so little yet so much to pick it up again and feel its comforting, powerful weight.

Categories
ambition beauty craft creative writing creativity emotion empowerment inspiration love nature passion poetry process purpose sensuality stoicism strength Uncategorized wisdom women writing

Spark

20161128_123452

Trials lie in wait

On every corner

I hold within

A spark of purpose

I am earth, air, fire, water

And all things

Within it

Undefined

By anything

Beyond will

And purpose.

Each quiet hour

Before dawn

Pen makes

Love to paper

Fingers seduce

The keyboard

If you would

Find me anywhere

Find

Me

There.

Categories
beauty creative writing desire dominance emotion erotic poetry erotic writing experience hunger love lust passion pleasure poetry purpose seduction sensuality sex sexuality spoken word stoicism strength surrender touch Uncategorized wildness wisdom women writing

Guided By My Voice

Guided by my voice

Held within space

Where I am

Held to command

Come

Set aside thought

Push the door closed

Wonder at how 

Feeling

Washes over you

Now

Learn what pleasures

Surrender to me

Will offer

In a space

Where only you

And

Exist

 

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creative writing emotion erotic poetry experience hunger inspiration loneliness passion poetry stoicism strength wisdom writing

To Be Seen

20161120_175709

I wish to be seen

Desired

Appreciated

Even as I walk through

The faded hours

Alone

I respond to 

Small bursts of 

Recognition

Stars to light my way

On the darkest parts

Of the path

I walk

I do not need it

But my want is a trade

Where you inspire

And in return, 

I embolden 

Take you to holy

Places within yourself

That no other man

Could take you

See me

As I am

A dragon unfurling

A bear rearing upon

Hind legs

Come to me

And bear

Witness

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books creative writing drafting editing fiction inspiration plot process psychology purpose stoicism Uncategorized writing

Two Pages (19/10/16)

toy-loneliness-grief-sadness-autumn-nostalgia-cold

I wrote two pages of Lawful Evil, the second section of background exposition narrated in first person. These pieces don’t go always go into later drafts verbatim because sometimes I cut them into pieces and seed them throughout the work. With these, and an earlier section, I like the voices that I used here. It’s a perspective that I have seen done in other books and it lends weight to the different textures of the book.

Editing She’s Here was productive this morning, cut some extraneous details and tidied up some of the language. I tend to work to a rule of cutting around 10% but sometimes it has been more, and that gives me an opportunity to put forward the intention of the scene. I am putting more narrative colour in terms of talking about Tommy’s emotions and relationships. Finding where the pain and emotion within me lives and putting it onto the page.

The writing makes me feel pretty. There are a lot of times in life that you need that place where you are kind to yourself, especially when circumstances deny you that opportunity and my writing allows me to do that. It’s keeping me upright a lot of the time, and allowing me to function at points when I otherwise would not.

It does not mean that I put anything less than my all into it. I focus on making the story sing and mine whatever quality is within me.

I am reading A History of Seven Killings by Marlon James. It is the first Booker Prize winning book I’ve read. Awards attract my interest but my passion for reading is too inclusive, I know what i like but I am always willing to give different genres and stories a chance. We all have our favourites, but I enjoy trying, failing, succeeding with different authors. The book itself is intense, challenging but it moves at a breakneck pace, moving in all sorts of different directions before returning with a controlled mastery of history and setting. I am reminded of James Ellroy, who has always combined history, crime and the ambitions of others into blistering, exhausting stories with a similar amount of skill.

Thank you for reading.