6 word challenge

Words. I love words I saw this competition on Angel’s blog, the closing date is tonight. I have wanted to write a story for ages, in fact I have one in my head. So I decided to write the opening for my story for the competition. You only have 250 words which is really hard. I have not written fiction since I was at school so this was quite a challenge, mostly to get over my own anxiety and fear of not be fantastic straight away. I was tempted to just write a poem instead but decided to take the challenge rather. Oh well will send something in, not sure I am brave enough to post it here.

I was talking to my mom about the competition and she told me about a story in 6 words

Ernest Hemmingway was challenged to write a story in 6 words, his answer which he personally thought was his best pose ever was “For sale: baby shoes, never used”

Can you write a story in 6 words? Try and leave it in the comments.

Hope

Hope is an evil little 4 letter word. I know a lot of you are going to disagree with me when you read this and that is okay. At least my friend Heather understands.

The wikipedia definition: Hope is a belief in a positive outcome related to events and circumstances in one’s life. Hope is the feeling that what is wanted can be had or that events will turn out for the best.

Sounds lovely right? But it is not always true. Very very often the outcome is not positive and we can’t have what we want. All hope does is let you dream that these things might be possible they open you up to happy thoughts about what is very often just not true or possible.

I worked as a palliative care nurse specialist before I had my kids and I have seen, spoken to and sat with many dying people. Many patients hoped for a cure or miracle right to the end, but it did not change the outcome, it often just left them little time to prepare or focus on goodbyes. Not that the reality had to be morbid or even depressing, it just was what it was.

We say ‘I hope xyz’ all the time it never actually has the power to make it happen. For example my son was sick today running a very high fever all day. For most of the afternoon he was in my arms screaming. He is asleep now thank goodness and I can say ‘I hope we will have a good night’ and images of peaceful sleep will be in my mind, in reality it is unlikely we will get a good night sleep. Why tempt yourself with ideas of things than might not happen? Is it not better to be surprised when they do rather than disappointed when they don’t?

I love the Greek Mythology about Hope. It was personified as Elpis. When Pandora opened Pandora’s Box, she let out all the evils except one: hope. Apparently, the Greeks considered hope to be as dangerous as all the world’s evils. But without hope to accompany all their troubles, humanity was filled with despair. It was a great relief when Pandora revisited her box and let out hope as well. It may be worthy to note that in the story, hope is represented as weakly leaving the box but is in effect far more potent than any of the major evils.

This weeks poem was not with the fridge magnet although I did stand there for a while, the problem is that the magnet set I have is is the romance and love one – not ideal at the moment. So a lot of the more morbid words I want are just not there, trusty pen and paper to the rescue.

Hope

Hope raised its ugly deceitful head
It opens a securely guarded heart
A ray of light illuminates the dream held deep within
And for a fleeting moment you see that dream
in all its Technicolor mesmerizing beauty

You dare to think,
You try hold back, wanting to protect
but Hope’s opiate elixir so sweet and warm
dulls the part of the head screaming – ‘wait!’
It’s too late the voice is drowned out as Hope’s
effects now course through your veins.

The dreams hope stirs are but a mirage
Reach out and touch them and they all just disappear
The elixir wears off
The vulnerable heart is left open in agony
Hope walks away laughing

What is love

What colour is love?
is it pink and red and pretty?
or is it kaleidoscopy of light and dark, multifaceted, sometimes just a translucent glow

What does love sound like?
is it beautiful words, a sigh, a low passionate moan?
or is it the sound of a quickening heart

What does love taste like?
is it sweet and sensual like ripe strawberries?
or is it the moment you and I blend

What does love smell like?
is it delicate perfume on soft skin?
or is it that unexpected aroma that triggers vivid memories

What does love feel like?
is it bodies entwined, fingertips alive with the sensation of skin beneath them?
or is it that unexplained pull on your heart as it finds a perfect fit.

I will wait

I have not written fridge magnet poetry in a while but this one happened this morning when getting the milk out for the kids breakfast.

I will wait

In silent depths
At the edge of a promise
my soul must rest
learning the art of solitude
let the sadness be,
walk, lie, rise with it.
The fragile whisper of tomorrow.

Surprises

I got a card from a friend in the post. I hardly ever get post anymore, not the nice kind anyway. It was actually quite nice to open and enverlope and see the surprise inside. I love surprises. My mom and my ex are both very bad at surprises they told me before hand about my surprise kitchen tea party! I know it is practical to ask me before what gifts I might want or like but just once I would love to be surprised. I want to open a box and have no idea what is inside. I want to be take away on a surprise weekend away etc. I am a total romantic at heart and even little surprises make me feel all warm and fuzzy. And it is not about money at all, running me a bubble bath,have candles around, my book and a glass a wine and I will swoon.

So back to my card I got in the post it was not expected and yet it really arrived a day it was very needed. The part I love most about getting a surprise like this is knowing that you are loved because someone went to the trouble of thinking of me and planning to do something nice.

This is what my card said

You Are One of the Strongest Women I Know

Strong women are those who know the road ahead will be strewn with obstacles,
but they still choose to walk it because it’s the right one for them

Strong women are those who make mistakes, who admit to them,
learn from those failures, and then use that knowledge.
They fail time and again, but still keep trying until they succeed.

Strong women face the daily trials of life, sometimes with a tear,
but always with their heads held high as the new day dawns.
-Brenda Hager

Most of the time I do not feel like a strong woman at all, I feel like a mess. But the first part of this poem is so true for me this path I have chosen now is not easy. But I do it because it is right for me not because it is comfortable.

My weird life just got weirder

Just when I thought things could not possibly be any stranger than they are, they get more weird. People ask weird stuff, do the unexpected or do nothing at all. I am left feeling like a spectator in a movie. Well I was even told something I said sounded like a line out of a movie. I am just going with the moments for now. Experiences and living in the present keep me from hurting thinking too much. One day I would like normal.

I have not done any fridge magnet poetry in a while I thought I would add this one from I wrote this for you I really like this blog

The Sky is a Distraction
I can look anywhere in the world but at you.
And it hurts to look anywhere in the world but at you.

Lists, Rules and Requirements for the ideal man – Just make me happy

Years ago I remember sitting in Tings n Times with my sister. I had just come back from a fantastic time living and working in Switzerland and the UK for a year and then touring all around Europe for 6 weeks. Sarah and I were discussing what I wanted in a man and she drew a picture and had all these attributes around it. I wish I could find that picture and have a good laugh now.

After my blog on The Rules and having discussions with friends about what you look for in someone you want to be with, I came to the conclusion that all these things are just a load of rubbish. Yes I know that The Rules one is just a joke and it is funny but we all seem to have these lists or ideas about what makes someone the perfect partner for us. I give up on all this, the lists are being torn up and the idea of my perfect man is being abandoned. I am sure there are some things that are going to make someone instantly more attractive to me than others but I am willing to be more open to surprise, rather than boxing people before I even venture deeper.

I think the problem with lists is that they are cooked up in our little rational heads and so often the head does not really know what the heart and soul truly needs. So how do you know what the heart needs and what to look for ? The simple answer – You don’t! But being open enough to believing your heart and have realistic expectations about what another person can provide in your life is a good start. I am by no means suggesting compromising just being a lot less rational and head driven.

I want the person that makes me happy just being who they are. They don’t have to try, they make me smile and light up my world just by being there. I think the realization that I am a totally fallible human being and that I can in no way live up to anyone else list has made me see that to start with expectations that at some point will be dashed is asking for disaster. No one is going to get it right all the time or even most of the time. I just want the person who loves me enough to try.

I found this poem on a blog I read: I wrote this for you

The Glitter Pheonix Burns Again

I won’t compose prose every morning you open your eyes next to me (I won’t compare you to a summer’s day).

I won’t kiss the tears from your cheeks whenever you cry.

I won’t remember every appointment.

I won’t keep the sheen on my armour.

I won’t know what to say sometimes.

I won’t get your order right.

I’ll be late.

I’ll fuck-up.

But I’ll write something for you when you least expect it (in summer or winter).

But I’ll hold you as tight as I can whenever I can.

But I’ll burst through the door as soon as I remember.

But I’ll polish it until it shines again.

But I’ll say something anyway.

But I’ll go back and make it right.

But I’ll get there.

But I’ll try.

My good friend D told me about how one day when his girlfriend walked into the room he smiled at her, she just made his face light up. He notice that it had a positive effect on her, knowing she lit up his world. He made a conscious decision not to get USED to the idea of seeing her, so he always smiled because it’s what you do the first time you see someone you love. Now this might sound very calculated and even though there was an element of rational thought – it was a heart decision. She made him happy and smiling at her made her happy.

I know that no one else is responsible for our happiness and that we have to create this ourselves and it is not the idea of relying on the other person for happiness it is that they just bring such joy into your life. The wait begins. I am not seeking I am waiting being open to possibilities.

Questions

I wrote this fridge magnet poem last night when I was feeling particularly emo, I really hate feeling like that. It is really not me at all. I like to be funny, happy, flirting, joking and laughing or quiet and contently relaxed. I don’t do angstig very well. But today the world seems better, I guess it is in moment like last night that you have to hold onto the dawn light as yet unseen.

Questions:
Will my soul soar again,
above the shadow clouds?
Does one wake from this cold?
The journey through the dark seems unending
A fragile whisper – almost dawn
the heart must believe in light yet unseen.

The Invitation; By Oriah Mountain Dreamer (A native American Indian)

(I like this poem and found it while looking for something totally different, but I thought I would share it as this week the fridge magnets are silent.)

It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for,
and if you dare to dream of meeting in your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love,
for your dreams, for the adventure of being
alive.

It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon.
I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow,
if you have been opened by life’s betrayals or become shrivelled
and closed from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit in pain, mine or your own,
without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own,
if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to
the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be
careful, be realistic, or to remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn’t interest me if the story you’re telling me is true.
I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself,
if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul.

I want to know if you can see beauty even when it is not
pretty every day and if you can source your life from
God’s presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine,
and still stand on the edge of a lake and shout to the silver
of the full moon, “Yes!”

It doesn’t interest me to know where you live or
how much money you have.

I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair,
weary and bruised to the bone and do what needs to be done for the children.

It doesn’t interest me who you are, how you came to be here.

I want to know if you will stand in the centre of the fire with me
and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom you have studied.

I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone with yourself
and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.

Eyes

This weeks fridge magnet poetry is inspired by a conversation at a party on the weekend. I was asked what the one things is I look at first in a guy, I said eyes. This was not the answer he was looking for and said that most girls said hand, well really dude I have pink hair does it look like I do what most people do?!? He asked why eyes and I said because they let you see into someone soul. And this was just way to deep for a man 3 sheets to the wind. The colour or the kind of eyes are not what matter to me, it is the openness of them and if you see the feels displayed there that are otherwise hidden behind a well practice façade that we all have.

Eyes answer all
look deeply
the smile does not reach them
try fool the world around
but turmoil lies beneath
the soul mourns
the heart is sad