The windswept claims of dry eyes fill the air,
it keeps me reading on to find the why.
But on I go, with nothing much to fare.
I see my wet-eyed self and start to sigh.
The middle lines turn pondering to fun
and lets me conjure up those random fears.
No longer there, that urge to cut and run.
We look again at feelings through the years.
The crisis comes, and all is lost, we say.
It raises doubts, those ups and downs we know
A tear descends and I can't save the day
My dry eyes fail, and I don't end the show.
A gasp erupts upon the closing lines.
Your writing skills here shows what that defines.
It took a hundred years to find a way
to slow the raging poison of the smoke.
On this red flag, you've found a lot to say.
But will they listen or rebel and choke?
Then from the middle lines there comes the fun
and lets us conjure all those random fears.
We want to urge the vapers, cut and run
but they're naive as we've been all those years.
He makes a choice and 'all is lost', we say.
It raises all those ups and downs we know
A chill claims us. We cannot save the day.
The vaper takes a puff to close the show.
We gasp, as one, to see the ending woe.
Poor vaper could have simply just said ‘No!’
To non-believers like myself, it seems
apparent this condition can not be.
For when the light of understanding beams
we think solution’s there for all to see.
We find conditions such as you describe
as gone when truth exposes where they hide.
There must be more to this distinctive vibe
than something used to conquer and divide.
But slowly, just a bit may spill our way
and we grasp to the slippery sloping fact
that there is really light within the gray
and though we cannot see, it’s not an act.
I hope the skills you need are tucked away
somewhere within the things we learned today.
You certainly have an excellent setting for an autobiographical tragedy. Growing up without a mother or any other girls in the house sets the pace and lets us know what to expect.
With our expectations formed early, it may be hard to keep the pace going in a way that will keep your readers interest and yet occasionally surprised.
You certainly have an excellent setting for 'mostly teen' adventure, in Galveston, with a hurricane bearing down. That will grab a good many readers into the scene.
You also have done a good job of letting the reader picturing 'trusty rusty' without telling us it is a beater, you have left the nagging feeling that Grace will be on hazardous ground for her entire trip.
The voices from the dark, and we all cheer
We've all heard whispers like that before.
The surface cracks but there is naught to fear
My thoughts peek out and give me hope for more.
We, clueless optimists, see rabbit holes appear,
and send forth thoughts of green for catching root.
We grasp onto the Alice trace and thrive.
But will those salty tears give us the boot?
Next comes a turn to Oz. That's quite a show.
Should we think this fine poet needs a hand?
Feed fairy tales a thought and make them grow
into a life magnificent and grand
Delightful how you’ve turned this random day
into a search for something new to say.
Delightful, how you’ve shown us down the path
where little boys find grief but no renown.
We see the way, but let's not jump the gun
we'll wait until the climax or meltdown
This trail could lead 'most anywhere from here
and win perspective in the youthful fog.
But no, each step moves deeper into fear.
The boy learns how to kick the cringing dog.
We watch and read of scars and all this stuff.
and find ourselves convinced it's often true
The view through readers’ eyes is just enough
to shape the man and see what he will do.
Each of us gains a bit from what is said,
if we can shake the past out of our head.
You've made the proper move and we can see
And in SNOW MAN we can think about 'What if"
and ponder what 'light novel' could it be?
Here you'll grasp more English with less tiff.
Your comments open questions in our minds,
as here we see you climbing to your feet.
That was, and will again, all that binds
us to each other. It's our last retreat.
This story told in flowing free-verse needs
to prompt discussion of a form that's true.
Our reading of the verse can plant the seed,
and truth will shake the soil from what we do.
Keep writing and then read the things we've said,
and 'What if?' proves a guard from what we dread.
It isn’t very often that we see
a eulogy to tin man or the likes.
But here, emotions flexed could truly be,
a chance to grieve for pocket knives or bikes.
But no! You point to skills which spin my head
and show those subtle thoughts. (Now, that is neat.)
I wonder, as I nod at what is said,
and marvel at what's flowing in the beat.
And I, who knows all things, soak up that stuff,
But don’t believe that metaphors will do.
For all the verses spun are not enough,
to hide the fact that Boron's fate is true.
Now watch as AI grabs our teeth of gold,
And melts them for its circuit boards, we're told.
Fuzzy pink bunnies and other such stuff,
puts smiles in our verse, and that is enough.
Turns boring to roaring with what it will do.
to make little girls believe it is true.
Delightfully done and very well said
Down fantasy's path, we're gracefully led.
Nicely done, BushmanPoet. You've given us an excellent example of an acrostic verse and painted a meaningful story for us to glean along the way. The funny thing about Thanksgiving, for a tradition that dates from the early 1600s. It's a celebration, now of feasting. It those days religious celebrations were more often observed by fasting. Ah, progress.
This is another outstanding flash fiction story from cliffjack. When considering flash fiction, many of us expect to find that every word counts, but this piece demonstrates that even with a bit of wordiness Jacky can build a delightfully well-done flash in only three hundred words.
Intriguing, how you led us down the trail
and showed directions to salvation's way.
We watch the weakened soul's disparate flail
to see the clues dispenced in what you say
You show the unwise, in their deeds so foul,
all fall within salvations cherished place.
And though they’re bent on holding up the role,
of 'bold and resolute' before our face.
But, that's the way of grace, which we recall,
from such an era as that of the beast.
We clasp our hands in prayer and that ain't all.
Forgiveness is one prize and not the least.
Well settled in the path of well-thought prose,
bob county leads us down a starlit path.
Each line presents a glimpse at what he chose,
to hold in check our view of artful wrath.
Examples flourish of the way to right
our mistakes and those deeds lost in the past,
without engaging in the tattoo fight,
nor cluttering ourselves with what will last.
In truth, the 'art of art' jumps in so deep,
it rises but to fill the artist's need.
Each line digs in and lets reader reap
more clues to where the final scene will lead.
Thanks for this trip through tattoos on our mind,
left there for all artful types to find.
One day aboard the site, this hearty soul,
has grabbed the oars and given quite a tug
To show a new perspective to the role,
of shining lights into these holes we’ve dug.
But buried ‘mongst the images which fall,
are often truths that we have seen before,
which shine like beacons gleaming on the wall,
of artifacts that we've been searching for.
In truth, I dive into the list so deep,
and leaping forth, grab for that moment’s gem,
left there by you, so we could reap
the joy in finding them.
Perhaps the notions floating from your mind,
contains another one for me to find.
Once when I was younger and invincible as hell
I met a man who'd done his time (and he had done it well)
He needed no reminded that the reaper stalked his path
His four score years and then some had shown him nature's wrath
He offered no regrets at all for his misguided youth
And told me of his arrogance, his rudeness and uncouth
But now he saw that dust to dust was close upon his heels
And tried to pass the word along of just how sad that feels
In those days of my ignorance, I failed to catch the drift
Our perch upon the hill of life left far too large a rift
Now my four-score has also gone I feel the reapers breath
And recognize my friends resign at his approaching death
Thank you for reminding me of those days long ago
And of a man who tried to tell me what I didn't know
Delightful, how you’ve shown this bleeding life
and how he rifles through with scant renown.
We see imagination guard for strife
while waiting for his final cold meltdown
These many incarnations where he thrives
and wins the battle in the swirling fog.
How will he find a way against nine lives?
He'll dazzle them, then take a little jog.
But could there be another hidden trick?
The twist comes and we see that that is true
The view through readers eyes can tell us quick
The turn delivers just the thing to do?
"Aw, baloney," says his conscience by a thread,
and I can't get the thought out of my head.
That is quite an intriguing idea, the notion of a western, fantasy, quest. It will certainly be interesting to see if this approach to ticking an agent's curiosity will work. Make him/her come to you.
It seems you did a good job of dangling the bait. Such a wild adventure should grab the attention of one of them somewhere.
You have a terrific opener and chapter hook, to end the segment in a way, which will bring the reader back. Dialog is where you really shine! In fact, I believe it's your writing forte. Although, each piece of dialogue needs to be set apart as a separate paragraph.
To be honest, and this has nothing to do with your writing talent, the first thing I did when I opened your chapter was wince.(e: shock) You need to do something about the formatting. No line breaks makes it nearly impossible to keep one's place. Consider your readers; reading a story should never be a contest of wits. Leaving it the way it is will most assuredly cost you readers. Paragraph breaks are important to readers.
I can make a few suggestions for that first edit.:
Be careful to use as few adverbs as practicable for the ideas you want to convey. Wordiness, repetition, and adverbs are the new writers' biggest hurdles. They almost always reduce the impact of the written word. Here is your opening with a few ideas from the readers POV:
I always (cut 'always') wanted to know what really (cut 'really') changed around Pautilus these past few weeks...I mean Pautilus was almost never suspectible to "change", Pautilus was always the same (cut (the same') peaceful but for some odd reason there was always this thing I've been noticing (cut ' for some odd reason there was always this thing I've been noticing') for the past two weeks that I didn't really (cut 'really') understand. The local police were always swarming (cut 'were always swarming' use 'swarmed' around the local (cut local') area, entering stores and homes and arrests were happening (cut passive voice: 'arrest were happening' use 'arresting people') at an increasing rate. You're probably wondering, why I should care about any of this? Well, (cut author intrusion: 'Well, why I should care about any of this? ') two weeks earlier a new mayor was elected by the name of Bosh Mannington (cut passive voice 'two weeks earlier a new mayor was elected')
You are off to a good start. Keep up the good work.
This is a nicely done opening for a military adventure set in an environment unfamiliar to an American readership. If it is intended for and English speaking audience it will need a major edit to capture the translation as much of the phrasing is not that which an English speaking reader is accustomed to.
The story is off to a super start and I'd love to read the rest of it.
You've done an excellent job of painting the way many of us remember that day. Going about our business in the usual way then the shock of the unbelievable news.
You turned the story to its conclusion in a way that left all of us who remember that day nodding our heads.
It isn’t very often that we see
A tear from an old codger such as me.
But this time, though I know it cannot be
a moment of wet eyedness set me free.
You show us step by step, the puppy's joy
reminding us of little things that spin
emotions which arise and then alloy
with smiles to turn this story with a grin.
Some say we’ve ruined the world with all our greed,
But here we see that that may not be true.
We see a homeless man with much to need,
shake off his own and knowing what to do.
The POV keeps readers quest alive,
alert to see if puppy will survive.
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