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My Writing Place: April 2009
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Wednesday, April 22, 2009. In the darkness of 4 am. My creative mind is stirring. I have to put them on paper. And the light of daytime melts them. And stop the flow. Of my mind's wonderous wanderings. He didn't need to say a word or shake an angry fist. What I was told, the boy's feet never touched the ground as he fled, screaming at the top of his lungs and his friends who had been hiding in the bushes were way ahead of him. Tuesday, April 21, 2009. Photo art by D. Bowden. At the Lincoln Park Zoo Great...
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My Writing Place: Raindrops
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Tuesday, April 21, 2009. Down to the ground. Like tears from the clouds. As they hustle through the streets. Their trains and taxi cabs. That will take them to. Where they all can play. And forget about the day. As the rain taps, taps, taps. On the window panes. They are warm and dry. And for awhile, tranquil and secure. Good start. But why put your readers away by writing in blue. Just keep it simple friend. Your writing would not lose its power if you use white text against a black background. Poems, P...
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My Writing Place: June 2010
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Friday, June 11, 2010. A work in progress). The red glow from the neon sign filtered through the slats of the hotel room blinds. She lay awake on crumpled sheets and watched the unsteady illuminations gambol across the ceiling. She was exhausted, yet she could not sleep. Her body hurt, her head throbbed. Was. Did it really happen? Pulling a sheet around her shoulders, she padded slowly across the threadbare carpet to the window. What would she do now? 8221; she yelled even though the driver could not hea...
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My Writing Place: Captivity
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Tuesday, April 21, 2009. Photo art by D. Bowden. At the Lincoln Park Zoo Great Ape House in Chicago, the old gorilla sat calmly in his glass prison, leaning on a log and resolved that he was never going to be free. As the younger gorillas jumped around in their confined space, the old one just watched, and appeared to be deep in thought. Was he thinking about days when he was young? Was he wondering what life would be like without the humans staring and gawking at him day after day?
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My Writing Place: September 2009
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Sunday, September 06, 2009. HAIKU by D. Bowden. Autumn leaves drifting down. Floating gently to the ground. Forming pools of gold. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom). Words, once they are printed, have a life of their own.". View my complete profile. HAIKU by D. Bowden AUTUMN LEAVES Autu. Literary Reflections of an Avid Booklover. Random writings, photography and artwork. Stardust's Journal of Random Ramblings. Stardust Musings and Thoughts for the Freethinker. Other Blogs of Interest.
stardustwriting.blogspot.com
My Writing Place: Haunted house
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Wednesday, April 22, 2009. About a block away from the elementary school I attended from grades kindergarten through eight, still stands an old rickety two-story house that long ago should have been condemned. I don't know how the myth got started, or when, but it had to have begun with a simple rumor based on the neglected appearance of the and bits and pieces were added to the story over time. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). Words, once they are printed, have a life of their own.". I love to write,...
stardustwriting.blogspot.com
My Writing Place
http://stardustwriting.blogspot.com/2006/02/red-glow-work-in-progress-red-glow.html
Friday, June 11, 2010. A work in progress). The red glow from the neon sign filtered through the slats of the hotel room blinds. She lay awake on crumpled sheets and watched the unsteady illuminations gambol across the ceiling. She was exhausted, yet she could not sleep. Her body hurt, her head throbbed. Was. Did it really happen? Pulling a sheet around her shoulders, she padded slowly across the threadbare carpet to the window. What would she do now? 8221; she yelled even though the driver could not hea...
stardustwriting.blogspot.com
My Writing Place: December 2009
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Thursday, December 10, 2009. Watercolor pic by D. Bowden. In the box so as to be easy the following year. But something happens to them during the year while they are stored away in the closet. It's as if an imp or fairy gets inside the boxes and tangles up the lights to cause me a big pain in the ass each and every year! Know I am not alone here. There are songs written about the frustration of detangling and stringing holiday lights on tree branches. So, why do I bother? Subscribe to: Posts (Atom).
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My Writing Place: October 2009
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Tuesday, October 06, 2009. All the leaves are falling round. Drifting, piling on the ground. Red and gold and purple hues,. Hiding any summer clues. That are left from yesterday. When all the children were at play,. Cheering with voices merry. Amongst the strong green willow trees. Days grow shorter, evenings cool,. The children are all back in school. With their noses in their books,. Out the windows stealing looks,. Longing for those summer days. And for endless, carefree ways. View my complete profile.
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My Writing Place
http://stardustwriting.blogspot.com/2006/11/summers-end-by-d.html
Tuesday, October 06, 2009. All the leaves are falling round. Drifting, piling on the ground. Red and gold and purple hues,. Hiding any summer clues. That are left from yesterday. When all the children were at play,. Cheering with voices merry. Amongst the strong green willow trees. Days grow shorter, evenings cool,. The children are all back in school. With their noses in their books,. Out the windows stealing looks,. Longing for those summer days. And for endless, carefree ways. View my complete profile.
