Tag: fantasywriting

Evening Poems: Lost

~ Brooke F. ~ Leave a comment

Once I found home In a place  

A House of brick I couldn’t replace  

But in wind and rain, it crumbled down.  

Home in a Thing, cannot be found.  

Once I found home in a love 

But twas fleeting as a dove 

I came to realize then, when they left 

You cannot find home in what draws breath.  

Once I found home in the mirror 

In life I plunged forward with no fear 

But failure came, despite giving my best  

You cannot find home in your own chest.  

Then I found a home, in a voice  

The path that I had chosen was my own choice 

But there is one, who can renew, 

And transform even the likes of you.  

On this Earth, no home is found. 

Not in person, thing, or town.  

It is found in someone who offers grace.  

I’ll know home, when I see his face.  

The Reality of Poetry

~ Brooke F. ~ Leave a comment

The reality of poetry is nothing is ever new 

Every word before the formation of the language was thought of and known. 

The reality of poetry is it has all been written.  

The reality of poetry is you are not actually writing. You are pointing. 

To what are you pointing? 

Something bigger and more beautiful than what is before your eyes  

The world you see is a painting  

And what else is a painting for but to reveal the heart of the painter.  

And so that’s what I hope to do 

With every syllable 

And Every pen stroke  

To reveal the heart of the painter  

Evening Poems: Tired of losing sleep over this

~ Brooke F. ~ Leave a comment

Regret 

Sounds like… 

Voices cracking in the middle of the explanation. 

Apologies that never get heard. 

Rehearsal but no performance.

Regret 

Looks like… 

Everything but their face, because you’re looking all around so you don’t have to meet their gaze. 

Silence that weighs heavier than any words ever could.

Absence.

Regret 

Tastes like… 

The same cup of coffee you’ve had every morning for the past three years. 

Writing Prompt: Anti-Witch

~ Brooke F. ~ Leave a comment

Once upon a time, witches (and wizards) ruled and dominated the earth. Adorned in black and working magic in big and small ways, they had a monopoly on this planet. All who held positions of power were magic workers and corruption was rampant, those who were the most powerful being able to set the standard. Might made right.

But a chosen hero emerges who is the anti-thesis of all modern day witches- the anti-witch. She wore white robes and a witches hat, and, as far as everyone knows, she possesses no magic. And yet she has none simple mission; to dismantle the witches’ tyranny.

Writing Prompt: The Witch’s Brew

~ Brooke F. ~ Leave a comment

A new coffee shop has opened in town! It’s the newest buzz among the residents, especially the college and high school students that practically live off of Frappuccinos and macchiatos. But upon its opening, it wasn’t at all what students expected.

Blandly painted walls and decor, this shop looked anything but special. A sign hung over the door with a crescent shaped symbol, reading “The Witch’s Brew”. But its interior hardly lived up to this magical name. The only real decoration piece that one noted was a large, rectangular mirror hanging in an odd little hallway in the shop. But if one were to examine this closer, it revealed something far more interesting. The reflection did not accurately reflect the shop one was standing in, but a ornately decorated, and magical hallway. And, if one were to step into it, they would be able to follow that hallway to an even more magical coffee shop. This was the true witch’s brew.

The drinks “brewed” here are not what they seem, with fire dancing along the rim of some glasses or purple steam pouring off others, this is no ordinary coffee shop.

Writing Prompt: The City of Planets and Stars

~ Brooke F. ~ Leave a comment

Fast-forward waaaaay into the future and humanity has managed to colonize every planet in the Solar system. More gaseous planets dawn floating cities, while the cold rocky planets are kept running by a large forge at their core to allow people to populate their otherwise unwelcoming terrain. But the people are more divided than ever. So, in one last ditch effort to unite humanity under one banner, a city is built, dedicated to every planet and every people. The City of Planets and Stars.

Evening Poems: My Sister’s Shoes

~ Brooke F. ~ Leave a comment

I remember when she was 11 and I was 7

I always got my sister’s old hand me downs. My mom would put the big shoes on my feet. She’d squish the ends to see if they would fit. She would tell me, before I knew it, I’d be in my sister’s shoes.

We made sticky mud pies and told stories. Got grass stained knees and carpet burns. It was nights of lightning bugs and cart wheels that made the world turn.

I remember when she was 15 and I was 11

She didn’t like looking in the mirror but she would still look. She hid behind her hair and cut herself bangs. Friends were scarce because children are cruel. This I came to know too well.

I remember when I was 15 and she was 19.

Social circles became webs to navigate. She said, they said, who said, who cares? They care, I don’t, What happened? Unfair!

I don’t know how, but we made it out in one piece.  First my sister, and then me.

Now she’s having a kid, and I’m 19.

I know I’m next.

The next sister in line.

If I’ll blink, I’ll miss it.

My mother was right.

Before I knew it, I’d be in my sister’s shoes.

Thoughts on being (almost) halfway through college

~ Brooke F. ~ 1 Comment

I doubt any of the following thoughts will be unique but I still find it important that I type them out anyway. (Wow, that start sounded a lot more sardonic than I intended). What I mean is, I think most people are feeling what I’m feeling when I say that it’s all going by very quickly. Not in a bad way mind you. It just sort of surprises me.

I know I would depressed if I were standing still. If I weren’t making progress. But it’s only normal that I feel at least a little sad as I find myself already halfway through my time at college. Everything is so fast paced. I make friends in classes but before I know it, we’ve moved on to the next semester which brings on new classes and even more new friends.

Time drags but goes so fast at the same time. I think that midterms will never be over but once they are, I realize that there are only 6 weeks left in the semester. It’s very odd.

I think these thoughts occur mostly because there is a part of me that is pretty scared of what the world has in store for me beyond graduation. I feel like a “fake” adult right now. I don’t have a professional job and I’m mostly working on school. And school, though hard, is something I’m familiar with.

Growing up is so weird.

I want it to happen but when it does, I can’t help but think “I didn’t mean for it to all happen this fast.”

For me, growing up has been characterized not by being sad so much as being disoriented and confused. I don’t feel ready, but at the same time, everything I’ve been doing since grade school has been done to prepare me for this challenge of getting older. And I fully intend to meet it.

And it helps that I know, somewhere deeper than my feelings and bones that everything always ends up working out in the end.

So ready not, here life comes.

Advice on Writing Poetry

~ Brooke F. ~ Leave a comment

★When you’re writing poetry, you don’t have to write the perfect poem. You just have to write today’s poem.

★Read the work of poets your love, but also vary your tastes. There’s something to learn from everyone.

★Give yourself permission to write whatever you feel like writing. If that’s trash, then write trash. We’ll worry about making the trash “pretty” and “clever” later.

★Play with rhyme. Play with with free verse. Play with alliteration. Play with everything.

★Poetry is like literally every other hobby. Practice and get better.

★Keep a journal

★If you have an idea, write it down right then before it flies away. Inspiration is fleeting. It’s easier to catch that butterfly right in front of you than to chase down one that is miles away.

★Be Vulnerable.

★You don’t have to be angsty. You don’t have to have a “muse” or whatever that means. You just need to be a living, breathing person to write poetry and that is enough.

★Understand that not every poem is meant to be shared.