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The time went [Oct. 4th, 2010|04:48 am]
The Writers Bloc

gwennymae
 Hello everyone

well Livejournal must be lonely these days. it's a shame really.

The noble mission of this group is something I am trying to bring to facebook though it's not really all that cooperative.

Also the inability to be nearly anonymous tends to inhibit people, but I am trying

Tea and Foolishness is the name of the facebook group.  Join me?
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The view from my box is serenity... [Apr. 28th, 2009|01:44 am]
The Writers Bloc

marfamarfa
The view from my box is serenity.
The late night musings of a wannabe poet
Echoing on deaf ears
Pictured in the minds of the blind.
This lack of senses is perfect
Perfect for the nothingness
The creativity
The imagination
Which can only be realised
By those who cannot know
The truth.
Beauty is all around us
In the flight of a bird
In the bark of a dog
In the yowl of a cat
In the breath of air that plays across my neck
In the movement of the hair which wisps across my face
There is music in the sound of a door slamming
In the call of a neighbour to his child
In the click of a latch or a keyboard
In the footsteps of a loved one
Coming home from work
Or a meeting
When all is quiet
And care is taken
Not to disturb
Those who may be sleeping.
And in truth, it is hard sometimes
To realise that the simplicity
Of these moments
Can bring peace.
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For going backwards is the most fun [Dec. 6th, 2008|12:27 am]
The Writers Bloc

gwennymae

This is actually the 3rd or 4th bit of the story. For a while it will be all short entries, just snippets. All the fiona entries wil have the name in parenthesis after the lyric in the title line.

"I'm sorry that right now I can't be the ray of sunshine that you need. It's not making me very happy either. I wish I could be, I really do. I don't know if it's just being cautious or something more. I wish you could just trust that I do care about you and want you around. I wish you could just see inside me. That'd make it so much easier."

Fiona seals the letter she knows she won't send before tucking it between her matresses. It has been an emotionally draining day and her eyes burn with tears she can't seem to shed.

"Bloody hell this effing sucks." She sits back and hugs her favorite stuffed animal looking for some relief as she speaks to the air. There is a feeling of futility in her soft green eyes that mocks her each time she passes a mirror. She nearly growls in frustration as she digs out her journal and begins scribbling away, her stories being her only escape.

" What are you scribbling about this time?" Her mother has of course come to talk about laundry. Having come at an inopportune moment she naturally has to ask questions her daughter has no desire to answer.

" Wolves running through the woods, not having to deal with the emo crap that is inherent to humanity . . ." The futility os firmly kicked out of her eyes to be replaced by ferocity. Oh the lovely creature that is volatile mood shifts.

" That's lovely dear. Can you and the wolves switch the laundry around and  fold some? Just tell the wolves not to get fur everywhere. We don't want your father to stop breathing"

" Yes, Mother." A silent split second passes and her mother leaves apparently deciding further questioning is a bad idea just now.  Fiona manages to let a single tear escape before  putting some music on and singing her way to smiling again. Of course she is outrageously off pitch . but today isn't the day to care about something so small.

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The Tales of Fiona, being a shamelessly transparent reference to events of my own life [Dec. 6th, 2008|12:24 am]
The Writers Bloc

gwennymae

A soft breeze caresses two young lovers as Fiona's dream of a perfect world unfurls. Sunlight makes her hair a fiery red of loving curls as she stares into eyes that make the sky ashamed at it's own  comparitively pallid complexion. She says the sweet things without the slightest hint of nausea and is rewarded with a shower of scratchy kisses from her smitten cuddle partner. Nestled contentedly in his arms and letting the world know she is his, our sweet Fiona is at peace.

She moves to watch abutterfly dance lazily across the perfect meadow, and suddenly her paramour's arms seem just a bit too tight. He smiles but inside she panicks as if the world has suddenly lost half it's supply of air. Did they sky not shine blue but a moment before? Why now has it gone steely grey? Scattering tears against his chest she shakes loose and runs for the solitary safety of the woods. Falling in her wake is the shine of her smile, and the peace in her heart like the glass slippers of romance.

Exposed and silent with forced calm she watches as her stunned man gathers the shattered mauldin bits of dreams that fell. The meloncholy baking quickly within her disconsolate heart as she mourns the lost bits of herself.  For days she bathes in salt and anger refusing to go back for the lost bits, but growing ever more aware that they must be retrieved from within his arms. If she could only speak to him, perhaps then all could be made right.

Her olive branch is a dried bit of parchment spattered in tearstained ink as she works her bardic art. The calm prince of her ill written faerie tale takes a gentle hold of the branch, but not posession of it. In words that break whate smile she had regained he gives her his conditions. He will return to her the peace in her heart, but he must have the love in her eyes, and the fire in her embrace.

Shaken and half imagining chains slinking up her legs, the branch falls to a place of waiting and our dispirited Fiona falls into the darkness of indicision.

 

Fiona wakes with a start to her pile of twisted blankets that hove somehow managed to trap her legs around each other.  She tries without triumph to toss aside the dream as the makes her way toward the kitchen for some much needed tea. Her mother is contentedly typing away at some nonsense or another as Fiona rummages throught he cupboards to find the specific tea she is in need of today. She moves past the irish breakfast with a near sob and goes for the jasmine green. The water is just a bit too damn cheerfull as it begins to bubble away on the stove. Once the tea is made she slinks into the chair nearest her mother, not speaking untill she has had a good long swallow of tea.

"Is it possible I have a bit of codependant in me, Mum?"

" Co-dependant people crave commitment, you run screaming away from it dear." Mother neglects to raise her head as she speaks this, but this is a learned tactic. She has noticed her daughter is far more liable to explain when she is not agreed with.

" To a place though, maybe? To . .I don't know . .an idea of how life is?". She's fully aware of the game they are playing but her dismal tone of voice conveys the meaning her words can't. " I'm going to get some boxes."

" Anxious to move out are we?" This merits a raised eyebrow and a concerned gaze.

" I need to figure out who I am all by myself. I need to know that I can do that and be ok. I need to know that I can squish my own damn spiders and chase away my own bad dreams. I  . . .I think I really need to make my own home."

Fiona's mother puts the computer down and extends the arms that Fiona is clearly in need of crawling into. She smoothes her daughter's wild hair and speaks softly to her.

" You will baby girl. You'll not only do it , but you'll do great at it. Then maybe when you know you can, maybe then you can let somebody be at your side. Then you won't doubt that you want them there, because all you need is you."

" I hope so . . . ."

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bit of something [Nov. 16th, 2008|11:00 pm]
The Writers Bloc

gwennymae

I'm not doing the novel bit. However I'd like to contribute to the group so here you have it.

"Luna Calls"

The moon calls to me and I answer, as I have always answered her. Her light holds me in it's peacefull embrace and I don't have to be strong. I don't have to hold what I feel tightly to me, far from prying eyes. The moon holds me and I weep for all I cannot be, and all I have yet to become. In this moment I am many things, but for the first time in months I can be just a woman.

I have been a wolf, and I have been flame. I have been a lover and a friend. I have found and lost both sanctuary and passion. Not since he held me in pure love have I been just a woman. Not since then have I not felt the need to be so many things at once. Each step since then I have been dying or fighting, and even rejoicing in each breath. The inner turmoil becoming the chains I place upon myself. Even as I fight to be free I bind myself to that which will keep me from joy and bind me to far less pleasant emotions.

Inherent in each person living, is the element of being one's most formidable foe. Years of clinging to the fraying strands of my dreams have proven this to me. Years before I spent months denying who I was becoming for the sake of another's heart. I am nothing if not a fool as well. In this moment though, all that has passed and faded into the depth of memories I'll never lose, but never hold.

The healing beams shine on my face and I am none of my past mistakes. I am none of my current or future blunders. I need no arms to hold me. This moment is my sanctuary as my tears vanish into bright grins and soft laughter. Troubles have melted, and all fades beyond this moment.

The moon calls to me and I answer, as I will always answer

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(no subject) [Nov. 6th, 2008|10:54 pm]
The Writers Bloc

marfamarfa
So, I was recently talking with Rob about how much I miss our little writer's block community. I really enjoyed reading the talented musings of the members of this group and I enjoyed having an outlet in which to contribute creatively on something other than school work. What would people say about trying to start up our challenges again?
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How is everyone!!!!?? [Nov. 6th, 2008|12:43 pm]
The Writers Bloc

gwennymae

"I'm sorry that right now I can't be the ray of sunshine that you need. It's not making me very happy either. I wish I could be, I really do. I don't know if it's just being cautious or something more. I wish you could just trust that I do care about you and want you around. I wish you could just see inside me. That'd make it so much easier."

Fiona seals the letter she knows she won't send before tucking it between her matresses. It has been an emotionally draining day and her eyes burn with tears she can't seem to shed.

"Bloody hell this effing sucks." She sits back and hugs her favorite stuffed animal looking for some relief as she speaks to the air. There is a feeling of futility in her soft green eyes that mocks her each time she passes a mirror. She nearly growls in frustration as she digs out her journal and begins scribbling away, her stories being her only escape.

" What are you scribbling about this time?" Her mother has of course come to talk about laundry. Having come at an inopportune moment she naturally has to ask questions her daughter has no desire to answer.

" Wolves running through the woods, not having to deal with the emo crap that is inherent to humanity . . ." The futility os firmly kicked out of her eyes to be replaced by ferocity. Oh the lovely creature that is volatile mood shifts.

" That's lovely dear. Can you and the wolves switch the laundry around and  fold some? Just tell the wolves not to get fur everywhere. We don't want your father to stop breathing"

" Yes, Mother." A silent split second passes and her mother leaves apparently deciding further questioning is a bad idea just now.  Fiona manages to let a single tear escape before  putting some music on and singing her way to smiling again. Of course she is outrageously off pitch . but today isn't the day to care about something so small.

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(no subject) [Jul. 26th, 2008|12:12 pm]
The Writers Bloc

gwennymae
After a long time of writing nothing worth reading here is a little bit from one of my ongoing stories that is at least readable.

There are few things in nature that escape the notice of those wise enough to be paying attention.  The ancient trees that had spared mankind’s axes spoke to Duncan like old friends telling him all their secrets.

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(no subject) [Jul. 11th, 2008|10:29 am]
The Writers Bloc
christraven
 It's been a looooong, dry spell.  Dryer than the Sahara.  So when this little bit o' weird came schlumping out of my head a week or so ago, I debated.

And now I have decided.  Henceforth, I give you the chronicle of my struggles with that harlot known as Creativity.

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After [May. 30th, 2008|09:31 pm]
The Writers Bloc

bohemiangrrl
Our internet was down most of the day at work. I had to fill time. So I wrote a crappy skit thing. Hee hee

AfterCollapse )

It's friggin hot in my apartment.
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