...and WonderNestled deep among the thinly settled northeast, modest in light of the world's greater ranges, the White Mountains sprawl; only their highest peaks, beaten bare and snow-capped, pierce the warring currents above – the world's windiest. Far west are North America's high plains, host to massive buttes sprawling among the formidable Rockies and Tetons; stark and forbidding – found to be hostile to all but the most determined of settlers. And who has surveyed afoot the majestic Andes, Alps, or Himalayas? Spanning such vastness touches the grandest nature of awe – a defining often deadly.
Who sees the fogs of morning rise
adorning tree lined hills;
traversing through a sun-blessed dawn,
abiding autumn's chill?
Wending on through stately pine
Where winds still whisper songs sublime
Who sees with eyes of budding wonder
those splendor-mantled mountain sides;
whose dappled foliage, arching brows,
has oft' a craggy face to hide?
What breathless grandeur fills this view
Above fair meado
Emotions in Writing and How to Portray ThemLit Basics WeekEmotions in Writing and How to Portray Them5 months ago in Literature Features More Like This
Wow, yes, emotions; they stir us, they sometimes rule us.
For your written world to come alive this critical element must be rightly imparted into your work. Your character’s emotional state is something that needs to be grasped in meaningful ways in order for a reader to begin caring about what is happening to them. Likewise, poets who write verses that do not express an emotional range will have lines that fall flat and lifeless on their intended readers.
Emotions are not one dimensional – each has a broad range of expression. For example, anger can be experienced anywhere from a mild annoyance, prompt bitter retorts, or become a barely-contained, seething cauldron; long before exploding into an unbridled rage. Often, intense feelings move through several stages all in one event.
Additionally, emotions seldom appear that are pure in their source; celebrated author and counselor H. Norman Wright, MFCC, CTS describes what mos
Hero of GondorFrom no mean blood of Númenor, so few remain; his kindHero of Gondor5 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Boromir, the mighty heir, of Gondor's Steward Line
Amidst the flow of Anduin, his brother standing near
Osgiliath - they broke the bridge and faced the nameless fear
The Pride of those who now remain so few
Which Morgul hordes so long pursued
Then there came repeated dreams, to trouble minds of men
As eastern skies grew ever dark, a western light drew them
Imladris seek, and there you'll find, a bane and broken sword
Doom has beckoned wisdom there, to draw the Halfling forward
These tidings brought to Denethor, nothing dared they hide
Against all hope, through countless leagues, he bade his son to ride
Though in the battles with their foe, his mighty arm they'd miss
Fate had drawn him from his liege, to span dark wilderness
The council formed - each heart then weighed
Before them all, the Ring was laid
They knew in time, all hope would fa
BombadilHe was there to form his songsBombadil6 months ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
When the earth to none belonged
The singer saw no paths were laid
No footfalls yet in fen or glade
No hunter, plowman, prince or serf
Settled on this virgin earth
The sun was young, horizons free,
No mast or sail yet dot the sea
Not even high-born Elvin kind
Found this place in form or mind
His song began; he stood alone…
To fruit the earth—seed, nut and cone
Long he sang and forests grew
Frond and petal graced with dew
Mountains smoothed from gentle rains
Quenching thirst and growing grain
Vast in numbers, both bird and beast
Came to revel in his feast
Man-kind also settled there
Lordly men and damsels fair
Kings and kingdoms put each to test
Hobbled East—entombed the West
Shadows came from o’er the sea
From which all that's wholesome flees
This bestirred those long-dead Kings
And made them covet living things
Our Singer’s friends by chance drew near
They lay entranced and choked with fear
To succor friends at their great ne
MeanderingHardly a mountain, though on lowering days its head sits wreathedMeandering3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
By the mists of a passing front, aged and befogged as bygone elders
Doddering about before there were names for the malaise
That hazed their thinking
And from this modest crown there slouched and sloped
A long shoulder, meandering down to meadows below
Pausing now and again to coddle a pleasant hollow
Casting a sloping pitch enough to rush a torrent
After a sudden shower
Its glint and glimmer burble among the stones
To join a rill and plash and swirl and putter about a root
It's there I'm apt to wander
Not much of a path, hard passed and thorny
As twisted and narrow as the thoughts of bigoted men
Treading there finds stern resistance and stones to turn the foot
The clatter and crunch of brittle leaf acorns pop and skitter
A plenteous crop, beyond the appetite of wild things at forage
Leathery husks abound, pignut hickory the ebon stains of walnut
On taking pause the quiet lay, a
A Coward's HeartWere confidence placed in boundless joyA Coward's Heart4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and night airs sweetly scented
dancing to a rhythm band
reveling in senses,
hopeful heart's desire
would ease my
For sparrow I had kenned her,
dreaming tender love;
yet she a raptor
- nothing taming;
matched in kind.
A coward's heart I grimly bear -
from peace estranged;
this blighted soul
For giddy love
- within my grasp,
it's sensual clamor bending;
now felled by fear,
then ravaged there,
and cast adrift
Old Man - MusingThere was a timeOld Man - Musing4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
...a man in prime
His rest now drawing near
Life is sweet - still
It moves the day apace
Springtime breezes scatter song
Summer's sun refrains
Joy still comes - in simpler vein
...what once was long pursued
Flutters lazy by - no mind
He's glad of fin and feather
Finds glee in croak and crow
In things that grace the skies above
Or amble by below
There may be time,
For sitting back a spell
(Time will only tell)
Autumn's fine attire is fitting
For age's hoary crown
- He hopes to use it well
Working rockers at his ease
Stalling winter's grim disease
On From the Dark A candle would do well, for nothing penetrates this desolate place. It is absent of any semblance of light. Not a glow-worm or glint of star. A dragon couldnt warm this frigid earth I pace alone. If even the pale shadow of a new moon would cast its visage through a rent in the dark pall of clouds, it would seem to set ablaze this barren blackness. Yet gazing wistfully ahead even that dismal apparition remains hidden, and so I dwell in darkness. A wraith, deprived of rest for needed penance, wicked deeds abounding in life and now in death travail.On From the Dark5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
It is black this sordid soul of man
In his time - of light bereft
To forward some unwholesome plan
Or helpless victims fortune sift
And naught but horrid passion fan
Outre sight _ outre mindBeatniks, hipsters, hippie HairOutre sight _ outre mind6 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Flashy, faulty, fashion wear
Tie-dyed "tees" and lime green bells
Burning incense covered smells
Cryptic language, outré coiffed
Out in public, clothes were doffed
Paisley printed flowered shirt
Peace their credo, no one hurt
Counter culture, protest bound
Whither now can they be found?
Faun HavenWhere the haven - for that now deemed but prattled loreFaun Haven5 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
'Neath gnarly branch--the velvet moss of forest floor?
Who has searched their mystic song or
Penned the parchment whereon its score?
A dearth, a dearth of senses
Whence hidden they of forest fable, should
Anyone be found to tell?
Here is where the Satyr dwells
From men, their prying eyes withstood
Dim vales--and shadowy floods--
Once, among the ancient kin, they were held in reverence
Enchanted folk, and apt to play in woodland, glade or mountain
If chanced upon by sons of men, knees were bowed in deference
Holding court in sacred groves beside a lively fountain.
Fame and honor ever fleet--now they seldom wander
But garbed in that of cowled cloak; shielded by its hood.
Retreat, a sad retreat was sound--
From they who'd gaze in stony doubt
Hence in cloistered dells they brood
And cloudy-looking woods
Beyond the shadowy shrouded moor
--Adam's race they'll greet no more
Amber Hueswarm hued swirlsAmber Hues1 year ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
swept from west-south-west
tattered clouds streaming
this orange flitters east
…the butterfly rebels
Safety of the Nightthe morning is comfortless; harboring broken placesSafety of the Night1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
a plodding routine, navigating tracks
of lesser woes–the harder choices tucked away
to return and darken dreams
How it stinks--cheap beer
a small mob of broken humanity
trying to stretch the waning hours of half-grasped desires
…they, cradled close
and rocking to tuneless rhythms
Wetted beds and chamber pots
dim memories of musty barns and moldy carriage sheds
vaguely sensed presence,
from that, which then, a subtle shift and now
a squelch of untoned flesh;
evading concrete senses
Steel Guitars and broken promises
to mind there creeps–most inappropriate
smiles and laughter; devoid of humor,
leaking down a darkened hall
this huddled child with fears
what pale armor–sweated sheets
Vinyl records spewing smut
the dark will bring them
hoarsely whispered promises, broken all
and moans of storms
speaking to none, for no apparent reason
Mountain PassageAbout the tree-lineMountain Passage3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
lazy mysteries dot the clear morning air.
curling hazy blue peaks;
children of the parting rain.
Are There No WordsSpirits flagging--Are There No Words4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
What speech to
wake and stir that which is now
muddled and benumbed.
Flailing about, the tongue leaves sensibilities stranded
there are no words.
What paints the state of draggled souls;
hard beset by vile grief
eclipsing former sorrows.
Who can scribe the tale of writhing lusts;
from cringing lips – base cravings
rightly deemed hateful, yet
blasting ever against the battlements
of wilting will and conscience?
Are there no words?
to cleanse the dregs of mournful humors;
to span the ragged gaps of jaded comprehension?
In these cruel and bitter throes,
let voices of compassion flow.
S.A.D.Pressure is the first sign, then a feeling like a shortness of breath. No exertion needed. Indeed any task, however routine, seems to require too much effort. A nameless sorrow weighs on my spirit. I want to surrender, but the enemy is elusive. Joy, like an ever-shortening fall day, is fleeting.S.A.D.5 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
southward marching sun
SorrowsWhat remains unsaid is haunting. You are repulsed by your train of thought,Sorrows4 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
yet realize that the truth may be worse than your strangled imagination.
the unspoken - ominous
...they have been touched
face contorted, body tensed...
i'm startled by his silence
The playground's edge;
sun-dress and sunshine
Childhood fading, she
caresses her baby bump.
begging bus fare -
clutching at hems
Their marriage confounds;
her best friend,
The CLACK gives a reprieve
no comfort found
in sour milk
Six, no words still -
plucked hair and suckled thumb.
She grafts him in, our new family member
...one day he's gone.
a parking lot eyesore
TwistingsEmerging to the morning freshTwistings4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Fragrant after the rain
Drowning in puddles
Little larger than their length of life
All effort bled
But vain and feeble twisting
Pale and murky white--
The creatures work their secret toil
Of turning earth
Rising with the evening
To share the clasp of life
Turn them out in masses
The day’s span reaching
Waxing sun enticing
On some forgotten errand I
Turn and there
Coiled and dried
Becoming over time
But stains to grace the concrete
Shadows of abrupt existence
Storms of human effort;
Pages plucked from ragged tomes
Our weak and vain endeavors
I find myself in longing then
...longing for a nobler end
Muffet MischiefMuffet Mischief5 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Little Miss Muffet
Sat on a tuffet,
Eating of curds and whey;
There came a big spider,
And sat down beside her,
And frightened Miss Muffet away.
. - Mother Goose
Miss Muffet set it on her knees
of this, we can this day assure,
what looked to be like cottage cheese.
No sweetness there to pallet please
Nor such therein to creature lure
Miss Moffet set it on her knees
Her stool she set amid the breeze
and ate a modest fare of yore
What looked to be like cottage cheese
Our spider had no taste for these
And thereby wondered why this poor
Miss Moffet set it on her knees.
With spider near, to home she flees
And brought with her the lunch I'm sure
What looked to be like cottage cheese
Now little boys this girl would tease
She could not hairy bugs endure
Miss Muffet set it on her knees
What looked to be like cottage cheese
PerspectivesA neighbor sees and weighs judgment;Perspectives3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
espying the aged man setting forth to his labor–
emerging stiffly each new day.
Is it custom… pride?
The aches, pains of accumulated years,
are greeted new every morning;
plainly shown in measured paces
and bent form.
The question is unanswered–
and by he that is viewed, unasked;
it is merely done.
The numbing fog of routine, it is thought,
must eat his spirit.
The watcher shakes his head
and passes by.
The ancient provider wonders afresh
at the gift of each new day;
to lay his hand again to the plough.
His scarred and calloused hands, in humility,
clasp often in thanksgiving.
His frailty ever before him, he ponders–
a life of love, near spent.
Yet, the fruit of his labor prospers.
each bearing fruit in their seasons.
hale and filled with glee.
Delight ever fills him,
Haiku and Eastern PoetryWordSmith's 'Contributors' are often presented with brief verses that are submitted under the category of ‘Haiku and Eastern’. Differing understandings of what constitutes a Haiku and the broad scope of what falls under ‘Eastern’ poetry present significant problems for those considering whether to feature these pieces; there is much diversity of thought on the matter.Haiku and Eastern Poetry3 years ago in Personal More Like This
Exploring the roots of Haiku and related forms reveal various ‘schools’ of thinking with differing emphasis' from its earliest history. The native difficulties were vastly compounded as the form (based on the Japanese language and steeped with its culture) was transported to English speaking (and other) countries.
The few perceptions that follow must be considered merely a primer, the very basics, of the matter. [For those not content to splash about in the shallow end of the pool, there are many voices of deeply studied students of Eastern forms readil
FetteredYou’re fettered in, my wounded friend; said IFettered2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
to self, my faithful kin, and yet you bear
it well… You lie! You lie! Its colored all
a darker shade than what you seem to tell.
No splash of light nor hint of white dare break
this strangled view; these bleak and ashen hues.
And not your pasty mousy greys but dark,
foreboding, biting shades, that cower such
as hearts––thus wrangle I with cloying will.
Our contemplation, nearly ebon, woe
and grief have shared. Lowering sky of rain
and mist; this ceiling drab to humors kill
come awful in their pairing. Wonder yet
their deft effect on souls that tire of night?
Think starless dark, no looming dawn to break
my hope's despair; oh cast of slate––distress!
In Their Seasons1)In Their Seasons3 months ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
briar buds and skunk cabbage
shedding their frost
her flower of youth
in a long-closed book
a kitten’s jester dance
a bee's path
among the clover
The Dragon and the Fawnin simile it lies yet still,The Dragon and the Fawn1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
as that interred in long-festering compost
heaped some bygone day
shrouded in wonder
a product of
cold calculated necessity, yet strange to ponder
the fruit of beasts
devoid of tender passions.
creatures unconstrained, but then
imposed upon – that greater will,
to their only end compelling
a shard is raised, tendriled with its steaming host
a Dragon, long hidden
rises self-aware; nostrils flair with sensing
seething rage at lesser things
a part and parcel of its nature
not yet strong to fly,
nor terror bursting from its cry
he bides his time,
some further fall
and when his strength’s no stranger
what wonder drives this brooding form?
what hunger seldom sated?
a Stag – majestic now, and putting forth his strength
ragged felt in tatters;
a hickory bears the scar, remnants at its feet,
for time is ripe for coughing grunts
and pawing at the earth
a vying champion heeds his call an
Encouragement-Affirmation-InspirationI have envisioned a way to feature many in our literature community in a way that would give attention to a broad spectrum of folk regardless of their skill level. This could be a great way to present yourself to the community and be a source of encouragement or inspiration to many others.Encouragement-Affirmation-Inspiration1 year ago in Personal More Like This
Here is how it will work.
1. Spread the word!
2. Note me with an uplifting quote of encouragement, affirmation or inspiration.
The quote should be brief and pointed; A few sentences preferred, though longer quotes of exceptional merit will be considered.
Cite the author if it is known; or you may write your own quote that fits our title's definitions.'Link' or 'thumb' a piece of your own writing in the note and state why it is meaningful to you. (If you are uncertain how to do this note me for help)
3. Depending on the response, I hope to build a library where the best and brightest uplifting quotes, and the featured providers, are displayed daily; though I suspect it will be
Pinny BritchesIt hurt just to look at him… showing up on our back porch one spring day; splayed out just like he belonged there. Pitiful really; most of his fur was ripped out in patches on his cheeks, back, and sides – the left cheek and ear mauled. His stomach was raw and bloody, a sizeable hole near his hind-quarters oozed blood. He was so skinny that his back legs reminded me of an old nanny’s hat pins.Pinny Britches1 year ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
Compassion demanded I do something; having no means to afford medical attention. I set out food in a coffee lid; water in a tub – this he gladly accepted. My wife was doubtful about this tenuous relationship, that it might be encouraged to remain was not to her liking; he was ugly – there wasn’t a cuddly bone in its body.
A few days of care; the wounds would heal. Warming slightly, my love contemplated the poor creature from time to time, she decided it reminded her of the ‘Artful Dodger’ from a Dickens