There’s a fire in the mist Down in the green sleepy valley There’s a fire in the mist A cherry glow shrouded by grey Growing If it grows much more It will burn off the grey sleepy tendrils of morning And lay waste to the trees
Dive into a spectrum of emotions and thoughts with my new poetry collection, where each poem is rooted in the beauty of colour. Experience the infinite variety of our universe through vibrant words. #PoetryCollection #ColorsInWords
I was perusing my poetry collection with the intention of putting together a collection of new, largely unpublished poems. This collection is not that. As I was going through all my poems I noticed that I have a tendency to use colours in the titles, and even when I do not the poem is often rooted in the idea of colour.
So, I decided to do a second collection while I was at it. A collection of poems bound together by the theme of colour. A spectrum of thoughts and moments reflecting the infinite colour and variety of the universe in which we dwell.
Step into a world where every shade tells a story. ‘The Colour of Dreams’ invites you to explore the universe through the lens of colour and imagination. #Poetry #Dreamscape”
Immerse yourself in a poetic tapestry that weaves together a myriad of emotions and experiences, all connected by the vibrant thread of colour. This collection invites readers to explore the kaleidoscope of thoughts and moments that mirror the endless hues and diversity of our cosmic existence.
Step into a world where every shade tells a story. ‘The Colour of Dreams’ invites you to explore the universe through the lens of colour and imagination. #Poetry #Dreamscape”
Immerse yourself in a poetic tapestry that weaves together a myriad of emotions and experiences, all connected by the vibrant thread of colour. This collection invites readers to explore the kaleidoscope of thoughts and moments that mirror the endless hues and diversity of our cosmic existence.
Space. It stretched out before him – endless, dark, enticing. The stars were faint and blurry through the thick glass view port, moving in a slow arc across his vision.
He could feel the endless nothing all around, calling to his soul, a siren’s whisper.
Float with us. Float with us forever! Float and forget.
The dark song was as endless as dreams.
He shook his head, fighting off the draining sensation.
He needed to concentrate.
He turned away to look out the only other viewport.
This one was dominated by the dark shadow of the dead ship. It was only visible against the deeper blackness due to the fading embers of molten metal fragments of its destruction.
They too fade from sight to and die.
Like everyone inside.
He shivered.
Looking out that viewport was hurting his neck. He faced forward again. He was too cramped. He could only move his head left and right and his arms enough to use the control by his hands and the keyboards before him.
He was stuck.
Daydreams had led him here – he couldn’t let them end him here.
A beep from the computer brought his senses back to proper alertness.
It had started. The attacks were coming.
He had anticipated it, though not so quickly and not all at once.
Float….
Concentrate!
“Update”, he commanded.
The computer’s calm voice responded.
“Interceptors are on the way they will arrive in precisely 623 seconds.”
“They must be responding to the distress call from the prison,” he muttered.
“That would seem a high probability.”
Dammit! He hadn’t been able to cut that off in time.
The computer went on.
“We should send our own distress call, they will be equipped to rescue you.”
“Do not!” he commanded. “Keep radio silence!”
“Affirmative.”
They were not only equipped for rescue. They were heavily armed. Once they learned the truth – and very soon they would – weapons would their first response.
“And our firewall?” he queried.
“The outer defence has been breached but the systems have not yet been compromised.”
That wouldn’t last much longer. The authorities were suspicious already – the presence of such a strong firewall did not to allay those suspicions – so they were hitting the firewall with the best they had.
“And my program?”
“Approximately 800 seconds to completion.”
Not enough time!
He swallowed hard and took a deep breath. There was too much at stake here to fail.
He needed more time.
“Instigate firewall program 42!”
The computer complied and ran the program for him. That would keep the cyber attacks at bay for a little longer.
He shook his head. He had the nagging feeling that this was all just too fantastic!
Only a year ago the only thing he did on a computer was check social media and chat! Spaceships were a thing of science-fiction! Now here he was a master programmer and a fugitive from the authorities flying in space. It all seemed too unreal.
It was the stress of the situation he told himself and he could not afford to be distracted by it.
Besides he wasn’t actually flying a spaceship right now. He was drifting in what was little more than an escape pod.
But the ship he had escaped from was real. As were those bearing down on him. And these were not the only truths he had discovered lately.
He looked at the countdown on the program he was running.
“OK,” he told the computer, “prepare a distress call. But inject the virus I prepared.”
“That is against regulations,” the computer informed him. He barked an override code at it and it proceeded to prepare the distress call.
It was amazing what you could learn in prison. Hacking, override codes. The truth about the universe out there.
Putting him in prison had been their mistake.
Daydreams and curiosity had led him to that prison. he asked too many questions and that had got him into trouble at work and with the Government. That alone would probably not have condemned him but he had also an inventive streak. And a paranoid one.
When they hauled him for questioning he had snuck in a crude listening device.
It had not worked very well but he had caught snippets of conversation.
“He seems immune..”
“Is he any harm though?”
“ … control … inherited or just a ….. “
“He is a dreamer, not a revolutionary.”
“There we go then. We make him a believer…”
Unfortunately, the listening device was discovered – and that sealed his fate. He was shipped off to a deep space prison ship.
A deep space prison ship! One day he was in a world where the space shuttle was the most sophisticated space vehicle man had created and smartphones where the best man seemed to be able to achieve – the next he was in a world of spaceships – and space police!
It was a culture shock, to say the least.
He was dumped into prison and forgotten.
And that was the strangest thing of all. In prison, he flourished.
On earth – in his old life he had been Mr Average Joe to a T. Prison should have broken him. Yet he found that he had more freedom stuck on this ship than ever before.
He learned the truth for one thing.
There existed on earth (and space) a super élite far above anything anyone even suspected existed. They had science and wealth beyond the imagination of most people.
The rests of the population were kept in drug-induced ignorance. Cattle whose sole purpose was to provide this élite with their lifestyle.
Knowledge seemed to flow freely in prison and he absorbed it all. He learnt to program and how to hack computers.
He had vowed to expose the truth and free the world.
So he had concocted his escape. It had cost him the lives of everyone on that ship – and probably his own life too but he didn’t care.
He was filled with fury. He wanted to free the enslaved population of the human race for sure. What he wanted more though was to see the smug bastards who ruled them get their just deserts.
“Distress call is ready to send.”
He nodded, he was about to tell the computer to send it when it preempted him.
“New contacts.”
“What?”
“There are two more ships, coming in from the direction of Saturn.”
“More interceptors?”
“No. They bear all the signs of space pirates?”
Space pirates? Pirates? How could pirates exist? That would imply ….
He shook his head. There were too many questions threatening to distract him. He had to concentrate.
“Program completion has been suspended.” the computer announced.
What!?
He flung his fingers at the keyboard and dove into code. They had not yet got full control but they managed to stop his program.
Which implied they knew or guessed what he was doing.
He glanced at the other screen. The pirates would get here quicker than the interceptors! And they would shoot first!
He didn’t hesitate now. He called up his virus and made a few changes, then he told the computer to prepare it again and send it.
Then he dove back in and started a counterattack against the hackers. He managed to regain control and get his program running again. He then spent the next few minutes both fighting the hackers off and keeping his exit channels open.
While he did this he also watched as his virus took hold of the interceptors and turned them towards the pirates. They would be forced to fight each other for a bit.
The program was also done. The hackers came on in full force. He struggled to hold them back.
A fireball briefly bloomed in space. All the pirate ships and interceptors signals went dead. They had destroyed each other.
Almost there.
Now the hackers could see the program running even if they couldn’t stop it yet.
A signal flickered back to life on the screen
One interceptor had survived.
It was closing in, weapons charged.
Almost.
“Program completed!” the computer announced.
“Run it!” he shouted.
He watched the screen as the truth – all the truth – was sent out to every single person on earth.
The lies were exposed.
Come now, float with us…
No!
The interceptor would be in range soon.
He breathed easier.
He had done as much as he could for the world. Now he had to look to his own survival.
He was stranded in space, with limited resources and little time. Air and supplies running out and no hope of rescue.
After the years and years of confinement, he welcomed the challenge – relished it.
“Now this,” he said, with an almost feral grin, “is living!”
Three hundred and sixty-five poems in all shapes and sizes, sprung from dreams and emotion. Published day after day for a year. There are haiku, sonnets, katauta, lanturnes and many other forms – including free form. The moods are as varied as the forms and often reflect my mood on the day. There is sadness and grief, joy and love.
If nothing else – these can provide a small moment in everyone’s stressful lives to stop and contemplate the world in a different way.
Life in unbalanced Uneven Unfair? Karma is bunkum Days, weeks, years of effort For each small gain Each small good None reached with ease While all around The bad rains down Good luck seems rare Bad luck the normal The scales uneven It seems
Oh, give me time, oh, give me time, give me time in my life
So I can dream and I can find an escape from this strife
So I can soar in the sky where only freedom abounds
Where we can dare to be ourselves and death does not his rounds
But these are dreams that slip away, drained by vampire bites
So we watch every day as they fade like spent candle lights
Sucked away by the days and by the burdens of our lives
Yet in this turmoil of life is where most creation thrives
So, give me time, oh, give me time, give me time in my life
If it is a tale of a farmhand, dreaming of the landowners daughter, becoming a knight and facing trials amongst fantastical creatures. This might be the place for you
If it is the tale of two magical lover’s, dancing on a cloud, maybe you have found the moment to pause and take note.
If it is the tale of a knight’s rebellion against oppression, wait a while.
If you want to explore the ins and outs of ambitious courtiers and their magic, one step too far, then wait awhile
What’s inside
Distorts and shapes
The exterior
All those dreams and hopes
Hates and fears
That make up the interior
The moiling
Boiling
Packed and stacked
Stretched and tense
Earnest pretense
That inside us all
Makes us all
What we are
Rather than what
We wish
It was rough last year. I am not just talking about celebrity deaths.
We as a family have had it rough. We have had family members in and out of hospital, having to deal with a diagnosis of Autism for our youngest and his so far very rocky transition into school. I have had work stress and uncertainty. We have seen our social lives and our house being slowly taken apart. I have seen my writing dreams slip away.
Midlife crisis? Maybe.
I have to cling to hope. It is the only thing left.
So not really new years resolutions as such but goals I am aiming for this year.
To find a new job. But not just another role. I need to get back to enjoying work again. That has been totally destroyed of late – I had thought beyond hope – but if I give up hope then all is lost. I have been thinking about a total career change and that’s the way I will try to go.
To improve our daily lives by trying new techniques for dealing with Autistic behaviours.
To reinvigorate my writing dreams. To help with this I will attempt to complete the daily prompt as well as Ronovan’s Weekly Haiku Challenge. This is purely to get my juices flowing. Behind the scenes, I will try to put together two more poetry collections for publishing as well as another short story collection and a new novel. Ambitious but I must attempt it.
I wish everyone a happy new year and hope you all attain your own dreams and goals.
I did it! Well, the first of my aims for the end of this year. I made it over 10,000 views this year. Paltry compared to some I know but miles better than any previous year for me.
Just another 90 followers to pick up now 🙂
On top of that a few more sales this week – including a soft back! Maybe the ball is finally picking up some momentum.
Our voices are simply the shadows
Cast by our dreams and our thought
If the shadows become ineffectual
Then our voices will end up as naught
Yet shadows can give us the outline
Of what is looming above
If we take note of the darkness
We can give those dreams a shove
One thing we must yet remember
To give those shadows a shape
Sunlight is needed behind it
From brightness the dreams will escape.
I read an article the other day (I really should bookmark them as I can’t find it now!) that was about a new Stephen King book due out. It’s a collection of short stories – nothing unusual there. The difference is that he is putting a substantial introduction to each one, about where he was in his life when he wrote them and the thought process that went into writing them.
Now I am not a big Stephen King fan – I don’t really enjoy horror – ghost stories yes but horror’s not my thing. However – his “On Writing” is one of the best books on the subject I have ever read, both entertaining and insightful. It is just as much an autobiography as a book about the art. So I am excited about this one!
And it got me thinking – I thought I would share a bit of my own thought process – how my mind works (sometimes). And perhaps hear from some of you how you go about the business.
So as an example. A friend of mine has just fulfilled one of her dreams and been on an epic sea journey on a tall ship. I was writing her a welcome home message when the a line popped into my head.
“Seafarer wandering over the waves.”
It sounded really good to me – so now its going around in my head – a poem coalescing around it, snippets of lines and images coming together. It will probably bounce around in there for a while until it comes together.
While thinking about it though something else is coming through. A character – this vague woman who is wandering the sea – for some reason, maybe seeking something, maybe running from something – I don’t know yet. There’s not even a story there yet – that one will bounce around in my head event longer.
One of my favourite authors Stephen R Donaldson said that he likes to get two unrelated ideas and smash them together to see where it goes. Maybe I will do that. I have another idea – more fully formed though still with a long way to go. It is about the rise of a political tyrant. Now those two ideas do seem completely unrelated – and I wonder what would grow by trying to put them together – something surprising I think.
I will let them ferment some more – their time hasn’t come yet.
So what about you? How do the seeds of your works begin?
I had a few good teachers but not many. And those that tried were wading against a tide of social programming. So school was not that productive for me. I left with few qualifications and no direction.
I drifted – pushed by financial necessity into work before I could begin to dream about what I might want from life.
So who were my best teachers?
They were my friends. They didn’t sit me down and lecture me they did two vital things.
They believed in me.
They believed in themselves and acted on that belief.
Watching them follow their dreams whatever the outcome – taught me the bets lesson in my life. To take control of my life and start steering my own destiny.
The best teachers are like the best writers – they show they don’t tell
All around me
Lies
The ruins of young
Dreams
Away from me hope
Flies
Bursting at the
Seams
So where to go
Now
The truth has been
Exposed
When you don’t know
How
To let go what you
Supposed
Find a new path to
Walk
Step up to the
Task
Start the do and stop the
Talk
Start the make and stop the
Ask
Man up and face the
Truth
You’ve faced worse and
Survive
Your longer in the tooth
Time to come
Alive
The tower in the wood
Lonely and silent
Seat of many dreams
Where it was a palace of power
A refuge for outlaws
A romantic spire or a foreboding spear
A collapsed heart
Once vigilant
Now silent
Crumbling
Inspired by WeDrinkInspiration. OK so the place is still there but it sprung to mind instantly.
The lord of darkness cometh draped in shades of grey
So many tastes of opium are available today
Opium is not the only drug to while away the hours
So much poison sugar before which reason cowers
For every palette there’s a taste for every twisted dream
On endless shelves in endless dens the merchandise does gleam
So the sellers sell us down the river deep
To dream our dreams of sweet success though we do not sleep
And while we dream on endlessly the future will never bring
The day we rise up and in hand to solve anything
Tiny starbursts
The peak on tiny waves
Deep green over yellow
Swaying weeds
Dappled stones
Dark fish darting
The scent of rich water
And reeds
Time to watch
Relax
The life I crave
Instead
Work, bills, sleep, stress
Our voices are simply the shadows
Cast by our dreams and our thought
If the shadows become ineffectual
Then our voices will end up as naught
Yet shadows can give us the outline
Of what is looming above
If we take note of the darkness
We can give those dreams a shove
One thing we must yet remember
To give those shadows a shape
Sunlight is needed behind it
From brightness the dreams will escape.
Scott Andrew Bailey - Author 