Writing Collaboration #1 – The World On Your Plate
From field to mouth we thoughtlessly consume. Everything arrives at us pre-packed and in infinite supply. This disposable cornucopia is ours to waste. Yet, what goes into the food we eat?
From field to mouth we thoughtlessly consume. Everything arrives at us pre-packed and in infinite supply. This disposable cornucopia is ours to waste. Yet, what goes into the food we eat?
There we were; I didn’t know what to make. I was at arm’s length and so were you. We both played a game of distance. Separated by awkwardness but united by a desire to connect but not attach.
The warning bell sounds. The last day for humankind on earth is finally here. And as the alarming scream of a dying planet intensifies, smothering the groans of those who would greedily scoff in the face of reason; no lessons will ever be learnt. If we had the chance we’d do it all again.
Hello fellow writers!! I need your help for an on going project that I’d like to run from my blog…
I’d like to start a regular Collaboration Challenge and I’d like you to be involved.
My life has become an algorithm. A predictable spreadsheet of formulaic transactions that signify nothing. I code and I code and I help technology flourish. I drive the future, but not the present. Not my present. Zeros and ones are not heartbeats.
1.The warning bell sounds. The last day for humankind on earth is finally here.
2.You don’t fool me. I made you.
He was crying. Ruining the hard work of men in the forevers of history who have stood proud without shedding a tear.
The sky was luminous as we hot-footed into the park. I held your hand carefree, unhooking the dog from his reins. He ran. Enthusiastically skipping childlike from bush to bow to bark. These moments are ours to
When we live in a world where satellites can find us with pinpoint accuracy; why do we feel so lost?
But you are like a bolt out of the blue. The sparkle on the edge of a star. Everything has meaning and everything is full. Not just half full. No short measured optimism. The glass is full.
With clumsy club foot David crept the creaking corridors, circling the spiralling stairs.
For today’s challenge, Paddy The Poet asked me to write about ‘Integrity’ – I’d love to claim credit for these beautiful words, however, here is my attempt at a found poem.… Read More »DAY 18- 30 Day Writing Challenge
I’ve only got another 13 days of this challenge. I’d love to hear your prompts! If you’ve given me a challenge to do already, you can give me another if… Read More »30 Day Writing Challenge
Not in sleep, but in the moments and hours between; I waste valuable seconds, minutes, and months on feeling instead of doing. Imagined futures and projected fantasies that come to nothing permeate the fog of a life lived in some half-awake state.
Mixed emotions flank the end of an illustrious career. Hard toil giving way to empty days. The rush of the nine-to-five now leaving space for brunch and afternoon tea.
Feeling the funk emanate we shuffled and boogied. Like zombies of the nights on Broadway- arms thrusting moving to the beat. Not knowing where we were going strutting with the love train, and surviving like Donna Summer we had been trapped in this nightlife limbo of lasers and smoke machines.
It had been a hard day’s night and John, Paul, George, and Ringo had all been working like dogs. They were, of course, aging dogs now, Macca and Ringo were well over sixty-four.
Outside pack rear. Favourite place. Whistle blows. Black jammer takes lead. Double pip, the pack moves on.