Vivid

Craning my neck
I stretch up up up
towards the sun.
Lobed wings
allow the wind to pass me by,
caressing my sides as
I fly

Regally I stand
Sentry like and tall
Imposing in my stature.
I dominate them all.
Green minions crowd at my feet;
glance admiringly at my
coat. My plumage full and
bright, I’m never one to gloat

There is nothing more
vivid than the colours
I wear – only perhaps
that of the skies of which
I long to soar

…yet always out of reach

By Sarah ©2021

Strelitzia reginae (Bird of Paradise) plant

Sammi Cox, Weekend Writing Prompt #219 – Vivid

“Outcast and Other Words” Anthology

I was part of this wonderful anthology and would love to share it with you.

“Outcast and Other Words” is an online community anthology of poetry and short fiction written in response to a year’s worth of weekly writing prompts. It’s a celebration of words, of creative writing and inspiration.

To start reading, click here.

To be taken to the chapter index, click here.

To be taken to the author index, click here.

Tessellated

I just kinda knew we would be together. This shy, kind boy; and me, the loudmouth neurotic.

Funnily enough, we fit together perfectly – a tessellation of sorts. Over the years, our tiles have slipped and moved against each other; at other times, apart. But we have committed to closing those gaps.

After all that’s marriage, isn’t it?

By Sarah ©2021

Sammi Scribbles, Weekend Writing Prompt #218 – Tessellate

Solitudinarian

I am a solitudinarian.
I don’t need anyone.
I don’t need anything.
Away with you.
Be gone.

I am a solitudinarian.
Hear me when I say,
“I am perfectly fine.
I like things just the way they are.”
I do.

I am a solitudinarian.
I answer my own questions.
I interpret my replies.
What is the sound of one hand clapping?
It is I.

I am a solitudinarian.
Yet emptiness is taking over.
Is this all there is?
I admit.
I’m lonely.

I am a solitudinarian.
But I need you.

By Sarah ©2021

Weekend Writing Prompt #208 – Solitudinarian

Vintage

Veering unsteadily

Into the

Night,

Tastes of blackcurrant

And spice draped like

Graceful velvet on her tongue.

Every drop of wine, gone.

By Sarah ©2019

Sammi Scribbles, Weekend Writing Prompt #120 – Vintage

Song

Tub-thump.
Tub-thump.
Boom, boom, boom.

The beat pumps.
It vibrates through my head.

Tub-thump.
Tub-thump.
Boom, boom, boom.

Swirling lyrics wrap themselves around my tongue, clumsily falling from my mouth.

Tub-thump.
Tub-thump.
Boom, boom, boom.

The rhythm intensifies.
My frenzied mind scrambling to make sense of it.

Tub-thump.
Tub-thump.
Boom, boom, boom.

I feel out of control.
My body’s a slave to this tune.

Tub-thump.
Tub-thump.
Boom, boom, boom.

The room has become a pinprick. Just me, you, and the pulse.

Tub-thump.
Tub-thump.
Boom, boom, boom.

Then I realise.
I’ve heard this song before.
“It is love,” my heart continues to sing.

By Sarah ©️2019

Sammi Scribbles, Weekend Writing Prompt, #118 – Song

Mercurial

The tread of time
is so ruthless,
that it tramples
even the kings
under its feet.

A mercurial thing
sparing no small mercy.
Those who feel
they have conquered it,
are indeed time’s folly.

Court jesters,
not royalty.

By Sarah ©2019

Sammi Scribbles, Weekend Writing Prompt, #108 – Mercurial , and also, Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Saturday Mix – Unique Personality, 1 June 2019

Zodiac

Have mercy, dear Zodiac.
Read my stars. It’s no surprise.

Your forecast has me walking in cement.
What trials are in my booth?

I’ve heard this song before.
It’s time to shut the gate.

My heart soft with hope.
I don’t look back.

By Sarah ©2019

The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 404, and also, Sammi Scribbles, Weekend Writing Prompt, #106 – Zodiac

Aftermath

My feet crunched on the blackened ground. Even the rocks had not been spared. So intense was the heat from the bushfire, they too had been singed.

All around me was devastation.

Twisted sheets of metal were all that was left of the house. I bent down and touched the ground where our mailbox once stood, my fingers trailing through the ash.

I trudged the perimeter fence and noted with irony, the eucalypts still standing.

Charred.
Naked.
But still standing.

Then, I saw a tiny patch of green – the tree already beginning to regenerate itself!

We too would rebuild.

By Sarah ©2019

Carrot Ranch, May 16: Flash Fiction Challenge, Prompt – In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that goes in search of trees. It can be one particular tree, a grove, woods, or forest. What makes the tree worth seeking? Go where the prompt leads!

Silence

Bang! Crash! Boom! Smash! Crack!

Clap! Wham! Pop! Slam!

Clang! Blast! Thump!

Whack! Bam!

…Silence…

By Sarah ©2019

Sammi Scribbles, Weekend Writing Prompt, #100 – Silence

Anathema

The rain was becoming an anathema to the animals of the jungle.

Especially since so their habitat was being destroyed to make way for palm oil plantations.

Huddling under the only shelter he could find, the orangutan thought “At least it isn’t literally raining cats and dogs. “Then we’d really be in trouble!”

By Sarah ©2019

Sammi Scribbles, Weekend Writing Prompt #99 – Anathema; and also, Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Saturday Mix – Mad About Metaphor, 30 March 2019

Impervious

This life is such a mix.

One moment we’re wont to sing,

And in the next, we recoil –

feeling the sting.

Our spirits push and pull

Clouds over the moon.

Leaving us to bask in the chill.

None of us, are impervious

To this alchemy.

Add a pinch of salt

And a dash of pepper.

The final brew is unknown.

Thinking we must swallow it alone,

Is a tipping point of despair.

Until I feel another’s hand

reach out and hold me in the balance.

My heart did swell, when

Thick in the quagmire,

I found you.

Always you.

By Sarah ©2019

Sammi Scribbles, Weekend Writing Prompt #98 – Impervious and also, The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 396

Until September

My feet squelched in the thick mud, as I trudged the familiar track. Darkness had not yet been overcome by the new day and I urged the sunrise on.

Entering the thick trees, my nerves jangled. The inky light was unnerving, and my senses were on high alert, oozing adrenalin. I was ready to fly should anyone unexpectedly appear.

I sighed, realising that after tomorrow’s equinox, my morning wanderings would soon end. Winter’s days would dictate a new exercise regime.

Until September anyway…

By Sarah ©2019

Sammi Scribbles, Weekend Writing Prompt #97 – Equinox and also, Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Saturday Mix – Sound Bite, 16 March 2019

Seashore

Crystal waters gently lap
against pristine sands of white.
Seabirds duck and weave above,
creating patterns with the light.

A gentle breeze rustles in the grass.
Footsteps squelch impatiently.
Children’s laughter filters ’round
while splashing in the sea.

Memories made are special here
and make my spirit soar.
No time is more precious
than time spent by the seashore.

By Sarah ©2019

Sammi Scribbles, Weekend Writing Prompt #96 – Seashore

Outcast and Other Words

The anthology “Outcast and Other Words” is a compilation of one of my favourite challenges run by Sammi Cox. A collection of submissions for the weekend writing prompts from 2018 have been carefully collated by Sammi, in this wonderful online book. Please check it out at:
Outcast and Other Words

A special shout out and huge thanks to Sammi for all her hard work putting this book together.

Cotton Candy Words

My heart shatters into shards of glass.

I steel myself against your charm.

Your cotton candy words

are no substitute

for devotion.

‘Bye.

I’m done.

Sammi Scribbles, Weekend Writing Prompt, #95 – Devotion and Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Saturday Mix – Mad About Metaphor, 2 March 2019

Indistinct

I

Needn’t

Deny that

Indelibly we

Survive

Trials of

Indistinguishable

Negatives that

Can’t outweigh

The wisdom of time.

By Sarah ©2019

Sammi Scribbles, Weekend Writing Prompt, #94 – Indistinct and Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Saturday Mix – Lucky Dip, 23 February 2019

Wool-Gathering

When the

s
t
r
u
g
g
l
e

to be
self-aware,
turns out
to be

nothing

more than
wool-gathering,
you realise
that this journey
must first
be commenced
by giving to
others.

For it is through

s e r v i c e

that true character
SHINES.

By Sarah ©2019

Sammi Scribbles, Weekend Writing Prompt #92 – Wool-gathering

Silhouette

I like to dress in silhouette.
Undefinable. Abstract.
Yet, undeniably there.

I like to dress in silhouette.
My features blurred by shadows.
Anonymity is mine.

I like to dress in silhouette.
Shrouded in cloaks of black.
I am protected.

I like to dress in silhouette.
Blend and merge with forms around me.
I am a cameleon.

Yes, silhouette is my preferred outfit.
Now I’m gone.

By Sarah ©2019

Sammi Scribbles, Weekend Writing Prompt, #89 – Silhouette

Foundations

2018 was a very challenging year for me and a casualty, has been my writing. I have been largely absent on WordPress, for the last six months, as I found myself unable to garner any energy or inspiration to write. I struggled to juggle work demands, and manage significant emotional and psychological stressors that accompanied these, in an ultimately, untenable situation. Thankfully, I have landed a new dream job, have moved interstate with my husband, and have begun building new foundations for our life together. This new year, means new beginnings…

Sammi Scribbles, Weekend Writing Prompt #88 – Foundations

Castle

I surveyed the kingdom around me, taking it all in. My eyes and heart, fill with gratitude. This empire had not come easily to me. It had been hard-earnt; fought for. Each day.

Finally, I see his familiar form grow larger, as he approaches. The guard dogs bark excitedly, as my prince returns to me. I offer my lips to him and welcome him with a kiss, to celebrate his homecoming. I press him to me, my body molding to his. My soul sings with relief. I am whole again.

This life is bliss, in my home. My humble castle.

By Sarah ©2018

Sammi Scribbles, Weekend Writing Prompt, #80 – Castle

Shell

Plucking pieces of shell from my foot, realising my beach walk, spoilt.

By Sarah ©2018

Sammi Scribbles, Weekend Writing Prompt, #72 – Shell

Call Me Outlaw

Call me outlaw.
I don’t follow the rules.
I don’t like them,
nor do I agree with them.

Call me outlaw.
Tell me your opinion,
And I’ll tell you mine.
I guarantee you won’t like it.

But that’s too bad.
The truth hurts sometimes,
You know?

Call me outlaw.
I don’t accept the behaviour
You walk past and condone.
I can’t. I won’t.

When all is said and done,
When truth, justice and integrity
Mean nothing.
I call you outlaw.

By Sarah ©2018

Sammi Scribbles, Weekend Writing Prompt, #70 – Outlaw

Motive

“You need to ask yourself, What’s your motivation?”

My motivation? I think incredulously. Is this really the response to constructive feedback.

My motivation is best practice. What’s yours?

Wishing I’d the balls to ask.

Sammi Scribbles, Weekend Writing Prompt #64 – Motive

Crumble

The foundations are shaky.
And things are getting crazy.
My knees feel quaky.
When did reality get so hazy?

What was once up, is now down.
What were once smiles
Now be only but frowns
These times…they are so vile.

It’s hard to keep the faith,
Find any meaning in it all,
When you feel you may break
While you’re trying to stand tall.

And in the face of adversity
There’s two ways, to be sure.
Either way, it’s never pretty –
We can crumble, or conquer!

By Sarah ©2018
Sammi Scribbles, Weekend Writing Prompt, #63 – Crumble

Quarantine

I wandered the grounds of the old quarantine station, searching for the series of engravings.

They were etched all the way along the escarpment, adjacent to the jetty. I’d heard these carvings were made by people staying at the quarantine station, and dated from the early nineteenth century.

I traced my fingers along the rough edges and tried to imagine, who, or what, had brought them here…

By Sarah ©2018

Find out more about the old Sydney Quarantine Station here.

Sammi Scribbles, Weekend Writing Prompt, # 61 – Quarantine

With Birds

I gaze out the window and watch as the two birds weave and thread, preparing their nest.

With birds I’ll share this lonely view…from jail.

By Sarah ©2018

Sammi Scribbles, Weekend Writing Prompt, #50 – Weave

Days of Old

The children squealed as they hopped off the bus, promptly running around the open area outside the museum.

“1/2s, over here please,” I said in my most commanding-outside-in-a-public-place-teacher-voice.

I assembled them into two lines, did a quick head count and entered, in an orderly fashion.

I wasn’t cross.
Excitement.
Curiosity.
Enthusiasm.
It was what I loved about teaching.

I gave a smile, as a collective, “Whoa! Cooooooool!” echoed through the foyer.
It was the skeleton of a huge hump back whale.

In the “Days of Old” gallery, while the other kids were playing house in an old fashioned home, one girl, had paused in front of a display. A look of consternation on her face.

She looked at me, confused. “What is it Mrs Whiley? It has keys like a computer, but…it’s weird looking.”

I laughed, and thought, This is a new one!

Then I began to explain…

By Sarah ©2018

Sammi Scribbles, Weekend Writing Prompt – #59 Typewriter

Pandemonium

I had listened to his laboured breathing, through the night and ‘til his spirit left this earth. I could hardly bear it, knowing, with a dull ache, that my final act was coming soon too.

For years, the writing had been on the wall, but noone had listened. The viruses had prospered, and all the antibiotics had run out.

Digging sacred graves, for my husband and me; I coughed into the air, knowing I was the scourge, and pandemonium would follow…

By Sarah ©2018

The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 355 and Sammi Scribbles, Weekend Writing Prompt, #58 – Pandemonium

Curtain Call

“Can you come here for a second?” I asked.

No reply.

“Darren?” I probed.

Still no reply.

“Darren!” I bellowed, unable to stop the irritated tone in my voice. That man will be the death of me, I thought.

“What?” came the faint response from somewhere in the garden. He was in that blasted shed again.

Oh for God’s sake! I cursed, dropping the curtain rod to the floor with a loud, metallic CLANG. It’s weight had overcome me while my husband and I played our verbal tennis match.

“Never mind now!” I screeched.

I’d have to try and get it back up later. In fact, I still wasn’t quite sure how it had fallen.

I kicked at it with my foot.

It rocked back and forth a couple of times, but stubbornly sat there.

I knew I was being childish, but red hot anger surged through me.

I hated this place.

I hated my husband.

But mostly, I hated being powerless to do anything about either one of them.

I kicked it again, harder this time. It rolled and hit the wall.

The thump was strangely satisfying. As I turned to walk away, the rod came to rest, and the end came off.

Great! I thought, now I’ve done it! We can’t afford a new rod. We can’t afford anything!

I bent down to inspect the damage and noticed, there was something wedged inside.

I reached in and pulled out rolls and rolls of tightly coiled dollar bills.

They were all hundreds and the rod was filled with them!

~~~~~~~~~~

“Honey?” Darren’s voice echoed through the empty bedroom.

Puzzled, but unconcerned, he went back out to his shed.

Meanwhile, I was already on the bus, heading towards my new life. I patted my suitcase and smiled.

By Sarah ©2018

Time to Write: Sentence Starter #35