Writing Prompt: Raindrops on roses

As I walked through the park the air was cool and the ground was damp from a downpour I had missed by minutes.  The sky, deceptively clear and blue gave little hint of the sweet rain that had pelted the flowers only moments before.

I went to meet some people on the Royal Mile and later, as I moved towards the door on my way out, the skies opened and I was soaked through. I jumped over puddles, tricky in 3 inch heels, and got to my car in time to hear the first ring of thunder. As I drove home, the rain fell in drops that would fill wine goblets in a single splash.

As I made my way home, I watched a symphony of light across the Edinburgh sky and with the stereo singing to me, I focused on the tail lights ahead, worried that one false move, one careless lapse of concentration and I’d end up against the guard rail of the M8.

Funny, in the middle of it all, I wanted nothing more than to stand in the midst of it, getting wet, enjoying the warm rain against my face.

There are all sorts of rain. There’s the rain that drizzles and spits down like a mist. It gets you wet without you noticing. There’s the cold, side-slanted rain that is carried on the wind, fierce and penetrating. There’s the warm summer rain, perfect, when it visits just as the picnic ends. Then, of course, there’s the kind you kiss in…

What’s your favourite rain? Describe it, set a scene, make rain your main character.

Writing Prompt: Raindrops on Roses

Love this…

He Wishes For The Cloths Of Heaven

HAD I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

– William Butler Yeats

Writing Prompt: Getting there first

My friend Andrew’s Birthday is Tuesday and he is, in a word, amazing. I don’t know how many of our mutual friends and colleagues know this, but he designed a tracking and analytics system in his early 20’s, is MD of a successful company, and is a gifted musician. In the interest of keeping him from killing me, I won’t reveal his age. That is also in aid of making sure he never reveals mine. 😉

In addition to his accomplishments, he is a generous, kind and loyal friend. He can keep secrets, passes no judgements and even when he’s so tired he looks like he’s going to take a nose-dive into his coffee, I’ve never seem him take it out on anyone. That, my friends, is what we call character.

So, why am I rabbiting on about him, well, it’s his birthday and an ideal excuse to tell people what a great person is hovering around and how lucky we are that he’s spent another year among us. So, if you read this mate, Happy Birthday. I just wanted to get to say it first.

So, if there’s someone who’s praises you want to sing, strike a note and serenade as your heart dictates.

Writing Prompt: Getting there first…

I found this and wanted to share…

Sonnet 17

I don’t love you as if you were the salt-rose, topaz
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
I love you as certain dark things are loved,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that doesn’t bloom and carries
hidden within itself the light of those flowers,
and thanks to your love, darkly in my body
lives the dense fragrance that rises from the earth.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you simply, without problems or pride:
I love you in this way because I don’t know any other way of loving
but this, in which there is no I or you,
so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand,
so intimate that when I fall asleep it is your eyes that close.

-Pablo Neruda

Writing Prompt: What is whispered

I’ve been thinking of the nature of gossip, of people’s desire to know and share the business of others. It saddens me to think that the imagination is not used in the imagining of people’s virtues, but in their faults and that entertainment of the cheapest kind is the most common. Look at reality TV, celebrity columns, chats by the office water cooler. When do we hear about the good deeds or favourable opinions of others? Is this the sum of our generosity?  What is it about human beings that we must spring to the worst conclusion?

Think about the damage we can do with a few words. Have you ever spread a rumour, started one, taken pleasure in hearing about the misdeeds and misfortunes of others? I’ll bet that if we’re honest, we’ll find that each of us has at one time or another been uncharitable in this department.

Write a story about gossip, either from the point of view of the victim, the teller or the person hearing it. What are the repercussions?

Writing Prompt: What is whispered

A cruel story runs on wheels, and every hand oils the wheels as they run.  ~Ouida

One more quote…

The basic tool for the manipulation of reality is the manipulation of words. If you can control the meaning of words, you can control the people who must use the words. – Philip K Dick

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