A Little Poem: Its those words again!

All the words tumble together

Spinning dancing, sewing , singing

Can’t help but move to the beautiful tune,

Feel the excitement sparking and bursting.

And the words rise up and demand to be heard

If only there were to be a way, for them to flood to the page

Unhindered, images to hands to screen to eyes to share.

A beautiful song will cause bursts of inspiration,

But send me spiralling

Come back down, capture the moment

That excitement, and pin its wings to the paper.

That glittering butterfly of thought and energy.

I love the words, but therein lies our craft, taming beauty to share it again.

The proof of devotion, over and over again.

I always thought that was a silly way to love, anyway

But here I go.

Daily Prompt: Origin Story – Orientation in progress

Daily Prompt: Origin Story

Why did you start you blog? Is that will why you blog, or has your site gone in a different direction than you’d planned?

Photographers, artists, poets: show us BEGINNINGS.


This is quite a strange one for me to be answering, given that I still consider this blog to be in its initial stages. I am only just beginning. However, it’s been a fun week and two days so far, and I’m very proud of my little corner of the internet.

In response to the prompt, the blog is still going ahead as planned and hasn’t, yet, managed to veer off into an entirely different blog-scape. I say yet, it is, after all, an impending eventuality!

But, to answer the first question, why did I start my blog? Well, I wanted to connect with everyone else out there is who facing similar challenges to myself.  I wanted to learn more about writing, and honing my craft. I wanted to see, if I could make this blog a success. All signs are positive so far – thank you to my wonderful followers.

Previously on a website, I started a journey toward publication. I was very excited about certain routes to publication. I was set on sending out my manuscript to literary agents, and did so! I also intended to pursue self-publication as well, and my blog was intended to blog my progress on that journey. The journey slowed however, as my working life grew busier. In recent weeks, I’ve battled with the nagging pressure, to write something and do something creative with my time.  Writing isn’t about ‘wanting’ to write, or wanting to be a writer’. As a writer, I can’t ‘not’ write. I am a creative person and I require a creative outlet. Unfortunately for my blog, I’ve been fairly creative at work for the past two days and so had less imaginative energy to devote to this place. However, I am committed to my wonderful followers and determined that not too many days should ever slide past, without an entry.

I leave you with a photograph. On my visit to Hatfield House over the weekend, the following words of William Henry Davies, were inscribed into a bench overlooking the River Lea. As ever, they reminded me that it’s important once in a while, to slow down and enjoy the ride. Not just race to the end.  The lines are from Leisure. 



Like no Pie I have ever seen before.

My mum is infamous for her desire to ‘experiment’ with food. She’s going to kill me for publishing this, but it was just too funny to ignore.

Lemon Meringue Pie

I couldn’t take my eyes off the lemon meringue pie. My mother had laid it in the center of the table. She then sat down with an expectant air.

“I brought cheesecake!” I announced, placing it carefully beside the first dessert. Eight pairs of eyes flicked from one pudding, to the other.

“Cheesecake for me,” my brother was first to break the silence. His request was echoed by his wife, then my sister, her husband, my dad, myself – the gaze finally rested on my boyfriend, Rob.

He swallowed, “lemon meringue please.” A thick slice was cut and set down for him. We were transfixed by the way it wobbled. It just didn’t look…right.

My mum looked up, as an afterthought “I ran out of biscuit- you know, for the base.”

Rob doubtfully tapped the bottom with his fork. A wheeto fell off, rolled across the fine china and bounced onto the floor.

My sister lent forward, “Mum, why is the lemon bit, orange?”

“It’s not!”

“It bloody well is – why is it orange?”

“I ran out of cornflower,” the admission was almost a sigh.

“What did you use?” I hardly dared to ask.


We watched every slow mouthful that Rob took, fascinated. A lemon meringue pie made from stale wheetos, and custard. “Mum,” I could no longer resist the temptation to ask “did you grate a lemon into the custard?”

“Well, it wouldn’t be a lemon meringue pie without lemon, would it?”

“…was it a waxed lemon?”

We left the house quickly that night. My brother –in-law slapping Rob on the back.

“Well done mate,” he laughed “took one for the team.

I started this story as an exercise, aiming to fit it onto a post card. This meant that it had to deal with a crisis and resolution quickly. I struggled, but I’m happy with the overall outcome. I hope some of the hilarity of my family dinners comes across. God bless substitution of normal ingredients – to things a little out of the ordinary!

Please find below, a picture of my post-card story. Try writing one? Let me know how it goes!