Poetry Corner ~ Calling all Poets!!

“Little Person”

She sits there; the strong one,

Perched high on that throne,

Ruthless and calculating to all who meet her,

Because a scared little person is who she really is inside,

She deflects by joking about all her bitter situations,

As if nothing ever really deeply troubles her,

Her soul hidden by armored walls,

She’s crumbling and her soul is almost non-existent,

They want to get close to her and help her,

The fools want to fix her problems with their weak bandages,

They want to coddle her like a small child,

But she won’t let them manipulate her any longer.

Written by Becky Illson-Skinner

September 20, 1996

Poetry Corner ~ Calling all Poets!

“Ghosts”

My ghosts they taunt me from the sidelines,

Laughing all the while for my benefit,

If I could only decipher their words of advice,

Maybe I could unwind all these twists,

But they are so muffled all rambling together,

Their words and actions don’t register in my mind,

Hercules a pillar of strength is what they see,

Don’t they realize that their taunting is killing me?

If they would just shut up or go back to sleep,

I could finally be at peace within my soul,

I know it is my fault; after all, I am the one that invited them in,

I just never imagined they would stay so long,

And nobody ever told me how to get rid of them…

Written by Becky Illson-Skinner

September 9, 1996

Poetry Corner ~ Calling all Poets!!

Yeah! It's POETRY TIME AGAIN :-)

“Strength”

That visitor of strength I love to hate,

Although I adore you most of time and look at you in awe,

You’re so decided so sure of your direction,

You often leave me in the dust to deal with the pain,

I feel like such an undecided fool,

I need you to come and plant roots in my mind,

Never abandon me again,

Help me to decipher between all the right and wrong,

Give me the strength to heal and thrive,

Don’t leave me on the edge living in greyness,

Let me see things through vivid laughing eyes,

I need that armored shell of strength surrounding me,

Because with it, I will flourish!

Written by Becky Illson-Skinner

September 8, 1996

Poetry Corner ~ Calling all Poets!

“The Cell”

She is a prisoner so alone in her cell, trapped there, the key nowhere to be found.

A ray of light filters in. Is that a ray of hope?

No…it’s just a crack in her mind.

The dampness here is never ending and the sell of mold attacks her senses.

In the darkness she claws at her cell until her fingers bleed from desperation and decides to quit.

She huddles in a corner as the tears fall in silence.

Truly painful in their wake...

How long will these walls hold her captive?

When will she be paroled for all her good deeds?

Nobody has any idea because they are no aware,

That she is trapped here and screaming for rescue.

So they all go about their lives and leave her there to rot.

Written by Becky Illson-Skinner

September 21, 1996

Poetry Corner ~ Calling ALL Poets!

The Painter

The canvas is ready and my brush is poised,

I’ll be the painter and fill this blank space,

The scene I wish to aspire to is attainable,

With all its warmest and richest shades,

There are only ripples of darkness in this picture,

I see a sky so blue and clear,

With a few white clouds sporadically placed,

After all, life would be so boring without some challenges,

I also see a huge mountain that forms to a peak,

Representing that most roads worth traveling are usually up hill,

But when you reach the top fulfillment shall be present,

At the top of this mountain is a castle in all its glory,

In which I shall of course be queen,

Living my life as I see fit and happiness around me,

Below this is a valley that is flourishing with flowers and trees,

The colors are so enticing and beautiful,

That the onlooker can almost feel their rhythm and joy,

And then of course there is a gorgeous waterfall that flows into a river,

The most vibrant color that you’ll ever lay eyes on,

You’ll want to search it time and time again,

To see if you can find all the hidden treasures there,

This is so picturesque and calming for the soul,

That I lay down my brush and feel satisfied.

Written by Becky Illson-Skinner

What Can YOU Write in 6 Sentences?

Hi everyone,

I can't believe it but after two weeks of the survey being active on the site and leaving it up to YOU to decide what kind of content you would like to see....well, there have only been 5 votes (THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU!!). To be honest, I thought there would have been more considering we have over 1000 page views a week.

Why is it so hard to get feedback from viewers? They come and they visit but seldom do people post a comment or, as in this case, take a few seconds of their time to cast a vote to help determine what kind of content this site will have for them in the future. I put in a lot of time and effort into this site and the limited interaction from our readers is frustrating (yes, that is a depiction of me pulling out my hair...lol). 

I'm going to give it a couple more weeks and see if the numbers improve. If they don't, then I think I will cancel Sunday posts all together.

If you want to cast your vote, check out the choices available by clicking here: Sunday Content Vote

Have a great day everyone!

Becky

Poetry Corner ~ Calling ALL Poets!

Sometimes

Sometimes I feel so numb and sometimes I feel so focused and sometimes I feel so confused and sometimes I feel so useless and sometimes I feel full of joy and sometimes I feel so bitter and sometimes I feel so complete and sometimes I feel so empty and sometimes I feel so directed and sometimes I feel so lost and sometimes I feel so controlled and sometimes I feel I’m wild and sometimes I feel satisfied and sometimes I don’t and sometimes I feel lonely and sometimes I feel crowded and sometimes I feel strong and sometimes I feel weak and sometimes I’m so scared and sometimes I have courage and sometimes I have goals and sometimes I have no idea and sometimes the two blend into one of the same and there is no way I can tell which one is really me – the great chameleon and sometimes I’m quite certain of who I am and what I’m about.

Written by Becky Illson-Skinner

The Most Boring Thing

Kate Burns

Here's an exercise to keep your writing muscles limber.

Find the most boring thing that happened to you today... or, perhaps, the most boring thing you did. Now, write a paragraph about it. Here's the catch: when you are finished, it should be the most nail-bitingly suspenseful piece of writing ever.


I turned my boss's really boring commute into this:

Two Hours Late

Tallie's nails tick-tick-ticked on the steering wheel. The dash clock blinked its seconds, but minutes snuck forward while her eyes were on the road. It's still ok, she thought. Still closer to nine than ten. Tallie punched the radio on. That woman was still droning on about art in the community. "Ugh." She slapped it off.

Any other day. Any other day, it would have been fine to be late. She looked out the window to her right. Would it be faster off here? No. The lineup of cars with their exhaust mingling with the sleet ran all the way back behind the exit she'd just passed. Tallie breathed out slowly, let her head sink down onto her hands.

If only it were Monday. Why did it have to be a Tuesday? Nothing good ever happened on a Tuesday. She wondered if the lawyers knew that. Hers was a good one, a real detail guy, Dad said. He'd have noticed, surely.

If it was Monday, she'd just be on her way to work. She'd be late, but she wouldn't be rushing. Could never rush. Tallie hoped she could still go to work after this was over.

Tuesday. Seven months, twelve days ago. First Tuesday in April. Late for work, driving too fast. The light. Yellow, then red. Pushing it. The white Honda. The driver, a woman. Her face, surprised...

The car behind her honked, startling Tallie. She looked at the clock. Nine fifty two. Then she knew. The woman was already there, waiting. Waiting to see if Tallie had any sense of remorse. The woman would be at the hearing, right now, Para Transpo driver smoking in the hall, waiting to take her back to her own busy schedule: physio, group, crafts.

So would the judge.

Happy Writing!
Kate Burns

What Can YOU Write in 6 Sentences or Something Like It!

Hi everyone,

Voting for what the Sunday post should be about has only been open for a week, which isn't enough time to make a decision. Let's give it another week and see where we end up and what idea is the most popular according to all of YOU. 

So far, the numbers stack up as follows:

Idea One: The Online Story

Idea Two: Week in Review

Idea Three: Guest Blogger

Idea Four: eBook Giveaway

I will let all of you know next Sunday which idea was the best of the four according to those that visited an let their wishes be known. If you need more information in order to cast your vote (maybe this is your first time visiting MYSTERY WRITERS UNITE or you missed last Sunday's post) take a few minutes and read the post from last Sunday. 

I encourage you to get your vote in and make your voice count. This website is being structured around YOU the reader so let's make it what you want!

 

Becky

Poetry Corner ~ Calling ALL Poets!

The Beast

This beast – my body – is beating me once again,

I feel like a slave to its needs,

It’s a wanton beast that loves to be visited,

After awhile, the face and name no longer matter,

The places I’ve been and the trouble I’ve seen,

Is the fault of the beast!

It controls my mind and I loose sight for a while,

But when I awaken from the ride,

I always find the journey un-fulfilling,

A great pretender is what I am,

Thinking I’m controlling this beast when it controls me,

I’ve raped myself over and over again,

Just to satisfy that hungry beast,

One day I’ll betray it and stop the madness,

The game will have a new sight and feel.

Written by Becky Illson-Skinner

What Can YOU Write in 6 Sentences or Something Like It!

Hi everyone,

Okay, I thought "What Can YOU Write in 6 Sentences?" was a pretty cool interactive post for Sunday's but based on the input from readers...I think I may have been wrong. So, I spent some time brainstorming for a new idea for Sunday's and I'm hopeful that it will be easy yet interesting and that maybe, just maybe, it will encourage those that take the time to stop by to read something will also feel moved enough to interact :-)

I've come up with 4 ideas that may be worth exploring but I really want to know what YOU think so please take a few minutes to vote on the site!

Idea One:  The Online Story

What about building an online story together? Do you think we could actually have something that could possibly be self-published by a list of online co-authors at the end of the year? It's an idea and it would be interesting and fun to see where the story may or may not lead. I know some very talented people visit this site on a regular basis.

Idea Two: Week in Review

This may sound kind of boring because in a way it is but Sunday's could be a recap of what the highest viewed post of the previous week was and to open discussion on some of the best comments posted (if there were any....lol). 

Idea Three: Guest Blogger by Request

What about guest bloggers, could be one of our readers that had a very strong reaction to one of the posts or a fellow author, publisher, editor...whoever feels they have something important to say! Of course, that would actually mean the interested party would have to get in touch with either Katie or myself to let us know that they would like to post something. That could be tricky and then I may have to fill the spot if nobody does...could be complicated but that doesn't mean it wouldn't work.

Idea Four: eBook Giveaway

If I can find enough authors to partake, Sunday could be used to promote an authors work by providing a synopsis of their book and giving readers an opportunity to post questions for the author to answer. At the end of the day, names from the comments will be entered into a random drawing for a free eBook of the featured author.

Help me make this site work for you!

Becky

Poetry Corner ~ Calling ALL Poets!

Your Coat of Many Colors

That coat of many colors that you display upon your back,

You’ve worn it really well; it serves your life’s needs,

You only let through what you want it to portray,

You shed each color as it suits you according to your needs,

I was fooled by what you represented yourself to be,

You’re a wolf in disguise in that beautiful coat,

Each color represents a side of your emotions; I’ve learnt them well,

The blue represents the playful you that only emerges when it’s to your advantage,

The yellow represents your warmth and affection, it is rarely ever seen,

The green represents your jealous and distrusting soul, as you are well aware of your unfaithfulness,

The red represents your anger which is the one you’ve almost warn to death,

The white represents purity and wellness; you are not allowed to wear that one,

And of course, let’s not forget the black, which represents just how evil you are.

Written by Becky Illson-Skinner

New Year's Eve Poetry SLAM!

Hi everyone and HAPPY NEW YEAR'S EVE DAY OR EVENING (depending on when you visited)!!!! If you are going out tonight....PLEASE DON'T DRINK AND DRIVE!!

 

Here is tonight's special contribution by an unknown poet -- I loved it the first time I read it and it still makes me chuckle!! 

You’re the truth, Not I

I have a friend named Jim. He is the truest kind of friend. Jim is a tiny green bug that sits by my bed every evening as I think myself to sleep. He’ll often frolic in the air, his wings conducting the music of my mind.

When I am feeling affectionate I will call him “Jim-Jam-Alabamastan”. If my patience is fading our relationship becomes more professional and he becomes simply “Mr. Jim”. When it’s cold outside we cuddle close, and he recites sweet poetry into my ear:

I knew a fat lass named Nicole.

When she ran it would jiggle her roles.

Now barren the worst case

She’ll be taken the first place.  

And swallowin my children hole.

On these hot summer nights we lay sprawled together in a sweaty heap. The twinkle in his eye is a beautiful sunrise. His smile is a warm feeling. It’s deep satisfaction.

Jim likes to talk to my sock, the dirty one in the corner, you know, the sock that hasn’t made it to the laundry basket. It sits there filthy and crumpled the progeny of laziness. Jim will often argue with the sock all day. I call his insults “Little Boy”. I call the sock “Hiroshima”. Every once in a while the sock will argue back, but you have to pay close attention to catch it. It’s troubling to watch someone you deeply care about slip farther and farther away from reality. I often plead with Jim, but it has no use. I tell him to come back to me, to embrace rationality, but he’ll just mutter that it’s “patty time” and “those hamburger bastards better watch out”.

Jim died yesterday. It was a freak accident. My shoe slowly lowered itself onto Jim’s fragile body and began to turn him into a fine paste. Jim tasted like a mixture between a peanut and an oyster. Sometimes you hurt the ones you love, sometimes you eat them.

Things have only gotten worse. That sock is a mouthy son-of-a-bitch. I am starting to understand why Jim had such problems with it. I tell it that we can get along; that things don’t have to be this way, but it is a cold hearted sock. I fear that it has some sinister plan, some great evil in store for me. I often wake in the night to find it silently contemplating me, a dark lust in its fibers. My fear is palpable. I live in dread, and from my dread comes a single question. The question is desperation. The question-my question-is this; what does cotton taste like?
 
Written by Kevin Arcand

That's it...that is all for this year folks. See you next year :-)

Becky 

Poetry Corner ~ Calling all Poets

Hi everyone,

It's that time of week again!! Let's make this a great week with lots of page views and some interaction with our readers...don't be shy -- POST A POEM :-)

This week, with the permission of the author, I'm posting a poem that is not one of my own. The first time I read this poem it really moved me and most of the writing by this author has.

Behind Blank Eyes

I was weird

Oddly unique

Rebellious. Yes

With revolutionary ideas

Challenging the comforts of normality

Whatever that is

But they molded me

Conformed me

Unified me with the rest of the world

I am now one and the same with everyone in every way

Except one

I remember what it was like to be ………..

                                                                                 Different.

Is a Picture Worth 1000 Words?

Hi everyone,

Are you in the mood for something different and fun today? I sure hope so...lol

They say a picture is worth 1000 words and I thought it would be fun to see what "words" came to mind for you when you looked at the three images below. Could you fit this image into the current story you are telling? How would you fit it in and explain it to others?


Image One

Grace finds herself sitting in the warm sun on a quiet beach on this quiet but somewhat eventful day. She is watching others dance and play in the surf and part of her, even it just for a few minutes, envies their ability to be free to enjoy this moment in time. She can't remember the last time she could frolic with such abandon. 

She lets out a heavy sigh and says out load to nobody, "Grace, dear girl, how on earth did you get here and what are you going to do now?" Suddenly her ears are filled with laughter from a small child that is building a sand castle with their mother about six feet away from where she is sitting. She almost wants to cup her ears with her hands to block out the merry sound. Even the slight warm breeze is setting her jagged nerves on edge. She wants to scream out to the world and all that will listen, "There are such dangers in this world! Why do none of you seem aware of all the danger around you?"

Instead, she settles herself down as she knows if she went off someone may think she is crazy and may call the police. This is the last thing any off duty cop wants and she is no different. The department psych exams can be such a bitch and is the last thing her tired mind needs. She closes her eyes and lets the sound of the water carry her to a place of relaxation and focus. She needs to focus if her plan is going to play out the way she intends it to...

Image Two

Bobby and Mark couldn't believe their luck! They needed a good place to hide but this was just too good to be true? They've stumbled upon an abandoned trailer and although it has no heat, running water or amenities they can see for miles from every direction. Surely, nobody would even to think to look for them here but if they did they would see them coming. Bobby was fairly certain that eventually someone would come looking for them because nobody steals from Jimmy Dix!

Bobby and Mark were quite proud of themselves. In their eyes, they had done the impossible when they managed to slip by all of Jimmy's goons and managed to steal the Monnet painting back from him. 

The quiet was starting to get on Mark's nerves and he was anxious to settle on a plan that might lead to some sleep. "What do you think Bobby? We can lay low here until we can come up with a plan to get out of this God forsaken town. We could take turns keeping watch so we can get some rest. I think it's perfect."

Bobby was looking out through the windows, "I guess we could do that. We could go in 5 hour shifts and you could go first if you want. I'm still a little jazzed and don't think I could sleep."

Bobby didn't need convincing as he headed towards the small back room and found a half decently clean spot on the floor to lay down. Within minutes he was sleeping in a deep dreamless sleep. Mark figured he'd give him just a little while longer before he got in the car and left Mark for Jimmy Dix to find...

Image 3

Norm and Val had dreamed of owning their own little cottage in the woods for many, many years. They would have never guessed in their wildest dreams that they would inherit one through such unfortunate circumstances; yet here they were in one of Val's fathers favorite places.  

The absolute silence and serenity was what made this place so magical. Val had been here so many times that Norm sometimes wondered if she still felt the awe that he did for the beauty surrounding them. As he enjoyed his surroundings and reveled in the slow pace, he could hear Val's quiet sobs coming from the back room as she looked through her father's private things. He so wished he could offer her the comfort that she seemed to need but it just didn't seem like anything he said or did offered her any relief. This kind of hurt just took time to pass. As he was trying to come up with yet another distraction Val's wail cut off his thoughts and he ran to her.

"You bastard, you bastard!" Val screamed.

Norm reached her and pulled her close in a tight embrace, "Now, now...what has you so upset?"

"That bastard was keeping a mistress! A mistress...can you believe that?" Val responded, spittle flying from her lips and tears staining her cheeks. "According to this, I am not his only heir..."

Okay, maybe not a 1000 words but, for me, each picture made me feel something different and brought about different story ideas as a result. Next time you get stuck on a scene, try and find some pictures for inspiration! OR FOR FUN RIGHT NOW....Pick an image and tell me what you see and how it fits into your story!

Have a great day :-)

Becky

What Can YOU Write in 6 Sentences?

Hi everyone,

KIRSTEN AND MOLLY

I usually pick some fairly dark, deep passage to share and was hoping maybe I could try something more upbeat and happy for a change :-)

As I sit here preparing posts for the MYSTERY WRITERS UNITE blog, I can hear my eight year old daughter, Kirsten,  playing with our four month old American Cocker Spaniel, Molly. Kirsten keeps running from one end of the house and of course Molly takes the bait each time and is hot on Kirsten's heels. During this time Kirsten's laughter and squeals fill the air and it's like music to my ears. The laughter is so real and raw and you can tell it comes from deep within and bursts through the surface sure and strong. Molly during this time surprisingly enough is quiet - she does not bark or cry but just enjoys the play time being provided. I love that they are entertaining each other; growing and learning.

What can YOU write in six sentences? Give it a try!