this journey called a novel

novels are journeys, for the writer and for the reader. good novels are journeys that remain, that keep on moving. they are like magic. that’s what i want to create: a journey that encompasses moments, thoughts, scenes that otherwise would be lost, or wouldn’t have come into existence.
also, on a more down to earth note, novels are the form of fictional writing that are opening the doors to another level, one of being read, being taken serious, being able to earn ones living by writing. which is the level i want to reach.

- anovelinayear, task 2: I want you to tell me why you want to write a novel - not why you want to be a writer, but why, specifically, a novelist. This time, avoid the temptation to be clever or funny. Sit quietly for a minute and think about it, and be simple and honest.

blues

october twigs letting go
of curled red leaves
under a great blue sky,
the remains of summer
falling to the pavement

where a man in green jacket
and green trousers waits,
he brushes them together
in piles and wraps them up
in huge blue plastik bags

to be carried away
to be turned to earth
in the communale
compost farm

- Thursday Challenge, theme: "autumn"

i am

The day after my eighth birthday, my father told me that I am old enough to climb a mountain now.
"I am," I started to answer, then stopped, searching for the right words.
"See, I knew it," he said to my mother, unaware of the fact that I hadn't really finished my sentence.

- anovelinayear, task 1: Take up a notebook and pen, and write one sentence, beginning with the words, "The day after my eighth birthday, my father told me..." Write more than a sentence if you like but just one sentence is fine.

free falling

the radio was playing Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, Free Falling, when the phone rang, once, then twice. on the third ring, i picked it up. in that very moment, one of the red petals in the blue vase decided that this would be a good time to let go, and sailed down, landing in a new form of itself, its core still in the centre.
"wow," i said.
"hello?", the phone answered.

- Photo Friday, challenge "accidentally"

sunrise in a box

costume :: helloween

beg :: ger

hottie :: cooler

celebrity :: star

saturday :: sunrise

buckle :: up

doorbell :: gong

rude :: box

absence :: out

hyper :: media

- Unconscious Mutterings, week 195

innocence

innocence is a petal
opening in October

beyond the security
of a green fence

that guards this place
called summer

- Photo Friday, challenge "innocence"

tides

a house built on sand. that was the first thing they saw of the bay of pollentia. a house, about to drift away into the ocean. in all the years that followed, they looked for it when they reached the bay, expecting it to be gone. but in all those years, the house surprised them by keeping its balance, there, in the sand, in between the shells, in between the coming and going of tides.

- Photo Friday, challenge "destruction"

breathe forward

weeks :: time

cough :: cougar

jail :: wall

produced :: grown

? :: !

stapler :: box

next :: forward

oxygen :: breathe

musical :: tune

- Unconscious Mutterings, Week 193

in the hour of dusk

leaving genua
in the hour of dusk
with the lights
floating by
like a river
into darkness
waiting for the night
to rise

- Thursday Challenge, theme: "dark"

thin

in tune with the theme of photo friday and the dew haiku, a spider was weaving its web in the garden yesterday. this morning, it sparkled with dew drops, held by those thin web strings, looking like a microcosmos of star drop constellations, there, in the backyard.

this dew drop world
may be a dew drop
but still...

- Photo Friday, challenge "thin"

lunar light

they had been there all day, but it was in the night, on the way back from the restaurant called Arlequin, that they were alone at the beach. "the moon," she said, and pointed at the reflection on the water that moved in waves. they walked with it, with this reflection, and she was amazed how it moved with them, how it stayed by their side.
"it's what light does," he said, and painted the moon for her in the sand, and the sun, to explain the reflection.
that was what she remembered, the next day. the sand moon, and the sand sun. and the riddle of the reflected lunar light that moved with them.

- Thursday Challenge, theme: "light"

tsuyo

this week i am working on a language project that includes poems in other tongues. that's how i found this poem, and came to translate it. then i thought, it expresses its meaning even when you don't understand the words. that's how i was drawn to it.

Tsuyo-no-yo wa
tsuyu-no-yo nagara
sari nagara
- Issa, Japan
.

anger

anger has an ugly face
void of colours
stuck to black on white
it sits under the naked feet
of the known world
waiting to bite

- Photo Friday, challenge "anger"