Bye Bye September!

It’s been another month and have stayed on task and focused-

at least where my writing is concerned ( yay me ) and  wow has it been great.

I have posted here at least once a day for the entire month of September

Goya

Goya

I’ve worked on poetry, and I’ve been reading a lot of it too. That’s what has been so great about the WordPress Community- it’s loaded with great writers and I have been learning a lot- it’s been an education.

This year I even got it together and am ready to write about Halloween- so it’s going to be a great month of writing and creating. Unlike the last couple of years where I couldn’t get out of the gate I feel like I’ve hit the ground running.

I’m really looking forward to what will bubble up in my writing.

I hope monsters and creepy things are involved.

Stay tuned!

Goya

Goya

amm

 

Worn Words

Outer Layers

What story do the things you wear tell about you?

Pankiewicz: Swans in the Saxon Garden

Pankiewicz: Swans in the Saxon Garden

Every cut

every scar

every word

I have heard, written, spoken

has been

etched in my skin

carved on my face

inked on my bones

the-absinthe-drinker-1907.jpg!Blog

Every story

I have ever been

brought to life

with my pen

has a home

in my bones

on my face

flows through my veins

like warm blood, a soft breath, a laugh

a scream from the bottom of my soul

from the darkness of my heart

where the light has never been

Edouard Manet

Edouard Manet

I wear it all

for you to see

for me to feel

I am story

told on cold dark nights

when  the fog creeps in

and you are all alone

with me.

 

Prelude To An All Hallow’s Eve

 

Daily Prompt

Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt.

Test

john-atkinson-grimshaw-autumn-morning_

 

” Where were you on the last Black Moon ? ” I asked my Grandmother as she stood at her kitchen counter carving the first of the many Halloween Pumpkins that would line our walkways and decorate the stairs that led to our front door.

She looked up and shrugged. ” Oh. Here and there. ”

She sounded vague.

Preoccupied.

I was worried.

I watched her place the tip of the carving knife against the pumpkin’s dark orange flesh. ” Oh wait, ” her shoulder dropped just a little, there was a smooth quick flick of her wrist and the smell pumpkin innards wafted up into the air. ” I remember where I was. Silly me. ”

She turned around with the knife in her hand. ” You must think I’m getting soft Valentina, I do remember where I was at.”

” I thought you might. ” I said firmly, trying to mask the sound of relief that was in my voice.

She tapped the business end of the knife against the side of her head. ” But I’m not getting soft Valentina, Not even a little bit.”

I nodded. ” So if you remember where you were- ” I began

” Yes,  yes Valentina. Not to worry. I remember where I was and what I was doing. ”

Grandmother reached down into the cupboard near her knees and popped it open.

Inside was her elegant black dress, her veil and her shoes. ” And when it’s time to send you back we won’t have any problems. Now run along dear and …” she reached down and then stood up.

She handed me her knife and her veil.

” Go and raise a little Hell. ”

 

Just A Taste

 

:::Just some tunes and thoughts to get us into the  Halloween Spiritwp-1467901841100.jpg

 

 

I think I am ready

for October to begin

I think that it’s time

to let the darkness in

and to let it

makes itself at home

Photographer: Unknown

Photographer: Unknown

a2

What do you want to be for Halloween?

A Ghost, A Witch A Zombie?

Something fresh from the Grave?

I wonder as I sit here

in the darkness

and

wait

for

you

to knock on my door.

a8

 

 

In The Shadow of The Crow

Photo A.M Moscoso

Photo A.M Moscoso

Do you have somewhere to go

Marie Hall?

 Crow asked me from the Grave.

Photo: A.M Moscoso

Photo: A.M Moscoso

You look like you’re wandering a bit aimlessly

around this lovely green cemetery

Do you need a shadow?

A friend?

It could be me

said  Crow

I’ll stay with you  until the end.

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Photo A.M. Moscoso

And he was.

She Took Poor Edward To Hell

 

Daily Prompt

Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt

Disagree

 

 

 

I’ve been having a debate with myself-

I tell stories, take pictures and write poems but the one thing I haven’t done is really talk about me- you can see and read the result of my inspiration (S) but not much more then that.

Even when I do open the door and let people catch a glimpse of me, I tell a story about what you see.

I really do enjoy blogs where writers and artists drop posts about their lives and what is going on in them- that is brave and honest.

Does this mean I’m neither brave nor honest in my writing?

I really do struggle with that question.

I’m of two minds, you might say.

Just like Poor Edward Mordake.

Edward Mordrake: Fictional AMERICAN HORROR STORY

Edward Mordake: Fictional Version From American Horror Story

Edward Mordake was said to have had a face on the back of his head- it spoke to him, tormented him, drove him to  suicide.

Sometimes I get how that feels- to have one part of you war with the other part- who will win? Does it matter?

In Edward’s case it did.

In mine I think it keeps my blog- my writing from being fully realized.

I’m not sure I care for that- not one bit.

Do you agree or disagree?

So I’ll just throw it out there- answer of you want:

My blog is about writing and to a lesser degree photography ( I feel my pictures tell their own story, so I don’t consider myself a budding photographer- it’s just another way to write as far as I’m concerned )

Does going off on little essays ( I guess  that is what this is ) add to my blog, to my writing. Or does it distract from it?

Please leave me your thoughts in the comment section- or if you write about it post the link there too. I would really like to learn how other Writers approach this.

Anita Marie

Edward Mordrake From American Horror Story

Edward Mordake From
American Horror Story

 

 

 

Mrs Troxel and Me

Daily Prompt

Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt.

Unfinished

 

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Photo A.M. Moscoso

 

Mrs Troxel has a shovel

leaning against a tree

and every time I pass her house

I think that shovel is for me.

 

Mrs Troxel gardens at night

when the air is bitter and cold

She whistles as she digs and prunes

black trees and bushes with thorns

 

” Come on over and help me ”

She calls from the side of the road

” I have a shovel just for you

and a spot to rest under that tree.”

 

One night I think I’ll stop

and I might just say hello

Because I have an ax in my shed

and I think it’s just for her.