Tag Archives: Writing 201 Poetry

Everyday Inspiration, Day Six: The Space to Write

Where do I write?

Usually I write in my study with a small netbook. I use a wireless mouse because mouse pads drive me crazy. In fact my netbook has a quirk that unless I specifically press Fn and F1, it feels free to jumble my letters whenever it feels like it. You can tell I am slightly technologically challenged.

On occasion, I might take my netbook to the lounge or outside to write but my concentration is not as good. If ideas hit me suddenly, I write where I am, either in a notebook (the old fashioned kind) or on  a scrap of paper or somebody else’s computer.

At the moment I am trying to get into the habit of writing regularly according to a schedule but it is still in the very beginning stage and I  tend to be erratic.

Ideally my writing space would be a quiet room with no distractions, preferably with a beautiful view with free access to cappuccino and the occasional snack for when I need to take a break.

I decided to combine today’s assignment with Linda G Hill’s Streams of Consciousness Saturday. I hope that is allowed.

Is there anybody else out there who is just a beginner?

 

Gospel Limerick

Today’s poetry assignment is to write a limerick about imperfections. Mine is a serial limerick.

I know what is bad and what’s good

But I don’t do the good that I should.

I do bad instead

And it has to be said,

If I could fix myself, then I would.

One greater than I had a plan.

He came down to earth as a man.

He died on a cross

But Death was not boss

And He welcomes me into His clan.

 

But still, after deep introspection,

I don’t live a life of perfection

But I’ve got peace with God

And, when Death gets the nod,

I’ll share in His grand Resurrection

ressurection

The Gift of a Grandchild

Today’s poetry challenge is to write an acrostic, where the first letters of each line themselves make a message. The poem must be about a gift and must include a simile.

Gift of a Grandchild

Tiny fingers furled like a new rosebud

Hair like wisps of black thistledown

Angel mouth pursed waiting for the first taste of milk

Nestled in your mother’s loving arms

Knit together by a Master Craftsman.

You are the fulfillment of nine month’s hopes and  dreams

Only six hours old yet already part of the family

Under the gift wrapping of hospital blankets

God, the giver of all good gifts

Omnipotent Creator of life and love

Divine Author of the greatest story ever told.

First Grandaughter

First Grandaughter