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The words had been carefully placed. Dropped like pebbles into water they rippled outwards in infinite circles. The repercussions would drag them all down. The chaos he had held in check for so long was breaking loose, and he knew without a doubt attempting to stop it now would simply churn the waters more. It was unfair, but once uttered, those words could not be taken back. Helpless, he watched as life collapsed around him.

Paragraph Planet 10.1.2019


Fire and Water

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Wailing, roaring, burning and hissing, leaping shadows, reckless in his rage, he hurtled down.


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Conversation. This is how it goes; I say something, then you say something. Ideally the thing you say would be related to the thing I said, but it’s possible that you’d respond with something random. The key then would be for me to absorb it and bounce it back to you, building a rally of somethings between us. Otherwise it’s just me batting words against a wall and that’s not a conversation, that’s a monologue. 

It’s a while since I had something on Paragraph Planet though to be fair it’s a while since I submitted too. This was dashed off in frustration at various people who either never respond or just never really listen… It was featured on the website on Sat 7th Jan 2017.

Ink on Paper

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Clutching the book to her breast, she cried. The gathered tears overspilling, dangled for a moment in fat droplets at the tips of lashes before dipping to trace a slow glistening trail across her cheek. Heartbreaking sobs broke from the depths of her soul and the tears flowed faster. She dashed them away, her anguish inconsolable.
Words from the book danced through her mind, each sentence remembered, caused a fresh deluge of tears and renewed sobbing. Her chest ached with the effort of breathing, of dragging in the unwanted air to her lungs. There was no room for breath. Her chest was filled to bursting with the pain in her heart.
She opened the book and stared at a page. A year of words left to her. Beautiful words, meaninful words, words filled with love, with hope. How could he have written so much and yet meant so little? The words mocked her. How naive she had been! How eager to believe. Now she saw them for what they were – false, worthless, empty words. Nothing more than ink on paper. She closed the book and a coldness seeped into her soul.

This follows on from an earlier post for Last Line First – Void, the last line of which was chosen to be the first line for the following week. It made sense to me to link the two…

Soon – A Found Poem

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In a short time,
in the near future.

Before long.

In a little while,
in a minute,
in a moment,
in an instant,
in a twinkling,
in the twinkling of an eye.

Before you know it.

Any minute (now),
any day (now),
any time (now).

By and by

The Right Words

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Her words are few and inadequate.
Unsuited to the task.
She needs them to be certain.
Their meaning clear,
There can be no misunderstanding.
No misinterpretation.
Her words must say what needs to be said.
Once uttered they can not be taken back.


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In my head
Words jostle
Clammering to be chosen
to be writ large,
typed true.
They fight and scuffle,
elbowing and pushing,
Brilliant, bright, bedazzling.
At my fingertip
Uncertainty looms.
At the nib of my pen,
their confidence fails.
They baulk at the sight
Of a bright, white page,
and skulk and crawl away.

Wordle: Writer's Block

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