Hello, dear readers!
I know I’ve been neglecting my blog lately, but I have been writing a lot. Just not here. I’m recently finished rewriting the climax to one novel, and I’m trying to finish the second draft of another before the end of May. Oh yeah, and I’m also thinking about submitting some poems for publication, and I’m developing a short story which may or may not turn into a series. *cue distant screaming*
Soooo, I’m taking the summer off from blogging, maybe longer, until further notice. In the mean time, here’s a poem I wrote during a writing sprint with friends.
brick-red, the russet hue
that clung to calloused hands
and corroded like crumbs,
coated fingers like chalk
brick-yellow, the sunburnt shade
that smelled of asphalt and wind
on a summer’s day—petrol
and the singe of a magnifying glass
brick-gray, the mind’s matter
that can’t quite recall
the thrill of the path i carved
when i scaled these walls
brick-white, the bleached blanket
that coated the face like foundation,
but didn’t quite belong where the dirt
stained its skirts brick-red
Let’s chat! What did you think of the poem? Do you have any writing friends you can do writing sprints with?