Cast me gently into the early hours of the morning, for once again the long and cold winter night has been cruel and unkind. 

Take me to a place of unrequited love; a river that flows of holiness for my smeared blood stains to be washed away. 

Cast me gently a bed of petal roses, as alas, my broken wings can no longer slow down the impact of my cursed fall.

Take me to a place of divinity; a shelter filled with warm smiles and laughter, a reminder that I too was once a God's serving angel.  

Cast me gently a sprinkled spell of amnesia;  an unloving memory of having been banished and fallen in grace. 

Take me to a place of forgiveness; heaven filled with the warm embrace of the sun, a reminder that I too had once been loved. 

Cast me gently the skills of a hunter; a seeker that will safe keep the bloodied trail of my broken clipped wings. 

Take me to a place of gratitude; a safe haven filled with the unconditional love from a frail woman who was once my beloved mother. 

Cast me gently the touch of loving hands; a soothing caress that will slowly ease my lingering pain away.

Take me to a place of creativity; a skilled tailor with a spinning ball yard of a threaded needle, a reminder that my bloodied wings once too oozed with the softness of white purity.

Image: Fallen Archangel Samael By Valyavande

A poet’s farm

could be more fruitful

if, instead of like a madman

I run through the fields

made from inks

by hands and pens,

yet, I take few seconds

to water the soil,

so that the next seed,

won’t perish from its roots.

MidnightInk July 2017

*********************************************************************

As often as possible, I try commenting why I like someone’s work.

I believe that providing constructive criticism is vital.

Personally, I love to get any feedbacks, whether positive or negative,

I take criticism without any reservations. Because, that’s how growth comes.

*************************************************************************

Who is he? What is he is? Is he a God or a Human being, his knowledge is of many wise men, his thoughts expand daily, he is as great as the Gods of Greek, Nordic, Celtic Mythology or even the prophets of the Bible, at times his suffering is shown in paper but his physical shows no signs of it, solid as a rock he stands untouched, unharmed, he is the Poet.

The poet a great being known to mankind throughout the world, the Poet sees what others can’t see, feels what others can’t feel and express in writing what others dare not

Every Poet whether Man or Woman unique, original in their own way, friend or foe fear the Poet, they do not understand him or his ways, they find him strange and evil, something, not of God, the Poet is not affected by this, the Poet lives for himself and shall die by himself, even if surrounded by many, still alone, because of his thoughts, ideas, his view on life and a vision to see more than the eyes can see, the poet seems to be sensitive, dark, mysterious or even full of charm, his person of being changes instantly he is unpredictable, considered at times dangerous to those mislead by his writing but if you dare ask this Poet what Genre he prefers when he writes..his answer would be..., Fiction

Fiction the one place you have control and where a happy ending..., is up to you.

I felt peace in your presence.

Our molecules belonged there

side by side

touching and bouncing off one another.

It felt like fusion.

Calming...each to the other,

the air between us seemed

to spill all around, and dampen what

we breathed with trickles of possibility,

rivulets of dreams and plans

The grasp of your hand, awake or asleep,

pulled me to your reality.

The solidity of the moments

we shared still prove to me you were real,

we were real and true and we were love.

It was the purest, easiest flow of connection.

Afraid of heights, this self-made outcropping felt safe.

Our view from there showing only us

holding onto the richness of the air between us,

because it held it's own life.

It all quivered. Electrified with familiarity, and

knowing that this wasn't new as

we'd come this way before and were back.

Nothing sparked more than us.

It was lit up like the stars and the moon of that night.

Then fear took hold, and overrode all logic,

and all of the knowledge the atoms had.

They knew...

They knew we were put there to feel the lightning again,

but fear was stronger than nature,

stronger than I could be for both of us...

You left with my moon and stars slung over your shoulder,

leaving my skies dark once again...

It was a new idea, a new discovery, a new life to be brought. He looked outward, freshly baked. The backyard was beautiful hues of yellows and oranges, the trees were shedding leaves while the sun sets. He felt rejuvenated, this was something he’s never realize he needed.

He was a new pupil on this Earth, the embodiment of the holiday, the reason to give thanks. Turkey stepped out on his platter, smelling the basting he bathed in. He was a new start to a reason of peace, war, and love.

Turkey turned around, the chamber he was created in: the oven. He saw his enemy, Ham. Ham was masculine, handsome. He was just as handsome as Turkey was. He looked directly at Turkey, his eyes full of revenge. Ham wanted to become the ultimate Thanksgiving meal, the best and only meat to be consumed. He wore a sickening grin as the pan slid in. He was going to ensure that he is the only dinner, Turkey thought, he was planning to kill me.

Turkey was thrown off balance as the platter started moving. Turkey felt the bobbing of the Overlord’s steps, until finally a clink ended the travel. Turkey stood up, “He’ll pay. He won’t get rid of me so easily.” The feud of Turkey versus Ham as resurfaced for ages, generations in the family. The kids say Ham since they love the juiciness and honey basting. The adult voted for Turkey since they love the classic generational meal. Turkey was lucky enough to be the Thanksgiving entrée this year, of course Ham would be there to take the luck away. A war is to break out, no time’s notice.

“Hello!” A young girl enthusiastically greeted the huge man. “I haven’t seen you here before.”

This girl was drastically different to the man. She was short and obviously young. She wore a red plaid skirt with a tan long sleeved shirt. Her skin was pale, though this contrasted her hair and eyes drastically. Her hair was a red color while her eyes shined a deeper red. She looked cute and lively, though she stood so confident and proud. “My name’s Cranberry!”

Turkey looked at the girl, seeing the obvious difference between the two. “Cranberry?” He asked, who was she? It’s odd to be greeted like this, especially when you are royal to the pantry.

“Well, Cranberry Sauce.” Cranberry clarified, “My friends call me Berry for short. You know, if I had any friends.” Berry looked down in sadness, she gave a sniffle. Turkey bent down, making sure the girl didn’t start crying. Turkey was ready to prove a friendship, a little girl no doubt.

Turkey smiled, opening his mouth to answer the girl. “Berry!” A new voice came out, unusual. Turkey questioned if it was his, though obviously knew it was not. Turkey turned around to see a scrappy young teenager, at least a few years older than the little girl. “You can’t just keep leaving, we can’t keep up like you!” As he gotten closer, you can see his clothes were in rags and tears. His brown hair was part of the tanned skin. He panted his words, “Who’s he?”

Berry angrily looked at the boys then back at Turkey, “You guys weren’t supposed to catch me! What idiots.” She mumbled the second part under her breath.

“RaaAAA!” An echo of the teenager’s voice rang through the air. We all looked at the same direction the rags teen came from. A new figure, the same as this teenager. He charged directly at us, a book in his hand, “You two are so dead!” He ran up to us, showing a classier and richer look, however with he same face as the first boy. He ran into Turkey, stumbling on sight.

Turkey stood tall, terrifying all three kids. “Are you alright?” The tall giant calmly addressed at the teenage boys. He held his giant hand out for the teen to hold on to. He rejected the request.

“No, I am obviously not alright!” The boy stood up angrily, no help needed. He turned to the other teen, their faces looked identical, their hair was different though. “You need to stop looking through my books!”

The boy chuckled, “Cornbread, I think you’re as crazy as me.” He leaned on the so-called Cornbread and gestured, “No way could I, your twin brother, actually do such a thing.”

Cornbread smacked the teenager with his book, “Stuffing, you are a bumbling idiot.”

“Can you two leave already!” Berry yelled out, her small cute voice contrasting through the scruffy masculinity.

“Berry, you are still not off the hook. You know the weird turkey man is going to catch us again.” Stuffing assured.

Turkey perked at the phrasing, “Weird turkey man?” He asked the kids. “Who is this?”

“Besides you?” Cornbread rudely interrupted. Stuffing punched his brother in the arm, making him flinch.

“He’s on the other side of the table,” Stuffing went forward to guard Berry, “He stepped out of the oven a while ago, he was ready to force us into his kingdom.”

“That’s not turkey.” Turkey stated, “…that’s Ham.”

“Ham?” All three folk were interested in the oncoming danger approaching.

“Ham is out to become the one and only Thanksgiving dinner for the family to eat.”

“Why would he do such a bad thing?” Stuffing questioned.

Turkey sighed and looked at the long table, an empire building at the end of the table. “I don’t know, but I’m going to stop him.”

“You need a team!” Cranberry stepped forth and stood by Turkey, “I am willing to help!”

Stuffing went to grab her again, “We need to stay over here, we can’t risk going out.”

“No!” Berry argued back, “Let’s go out! Adventure! Ham needs to be stopped, and we are the ones to change the future!”

Turkey looked valiantly at the recruit, the teenage boys looked confused and scared. “Are you two in?”

Stuffing nodded, rushing by their side. “What?!” Cornbread shocking said, “You can’t be serious.”

“You can stay here if you want, but I need to make sure they are safe.” Stuffing assured.

Cornbread looked back then forth at the team forming, “I’m only going because you need my intelligence.” Stuffing smiled brightly at his brother’s words, rushing in for a hug. “Let go!”

“This is plenty.” Turkey said, relieved at the formation, “We are the future of Thanksgiving dinner!”

“Yes!” Cranberry happily yelled out.

“Definitely!” Stuffing smiled at the victorious creation.

“Sure.” Cornbread lamely said, glad at the new team.

“Let’s go.” Turkey stepped off his platter, stepping onto the tablecloth and venturing forth.

Ham, it’s time for the new rise of Thanksgiving.

Turkey will reclaim his throne.

Over the course of the next 13 chapter phases,There will be writing points for new writers, and those experienced ones looking for any additional helping points. I will provide some tips and information to help hone your work even better and hopefully, everyone will gain something from this.

I will cover not just basic grammar and punctuation, but different styles of poetry and prose, short story and novel writing, non-fiction, autobiography and biographies, essays, memoirs, reviews, and screenplays. I will show examples on every area I possibly can.

I will have material here to talk about plot setting, suspension of disbelief, elements of fiction.

I have a section on the who-what-where-when-why and how. Tips on your beginning, middle and end to what you write. Also, the one part no writer enjoys …editing and revision.

I will have a series of what I call Side-Bar Notes – knowing your fiction/non-fiction/poetry market. Why rejections happen.

There will be more I haven’t mentioned.

But to be clear, I have read many pieces of work on Prose, and all of it is and has been very good. This is a guide for you to use when you are not on Prose and are looking to heighten your muse, get you past a rough patch in thinking or writing.

With that said, I want to mention, and recommend a very good book to read: The Elements of Style, by William Strunk Jr. written in 1918, and published by Harcourt, in 1920, comprising eight “elementary rules of usage”, ten “elementary principles of composition”, “a few matters of form”, a list of 49 “words and expressions commonly misused”, and a list of 57 “words often misspelled”. E. B. White greatly enlarged and revised the book for publication by Macmillan in 1959. That was the first edition of the so-called “Strunk & White”, which Time named in 2011 as one of the 100 best and most influential books written in English since 1923. This tiny book will do more for your writing than a four-year college degree in my humble opinion.

On one last note: I am debating on whether to put up an article I have saved since 2012 about the joys and hazards of self-publishing on the web. What do you think? Should I? or should I not? You won’t see it anytime soon, but if you want to see and read this, it will be available.

Now, for those of you already published, there still may be things put here you find you can use somewhere down the line. So, for the time being, I will begin this with something I always said to my students.

… and we begin.

_____________________________________________________________________

First, Webster’s American English Thesaurus defines the word Poet as: a writer of verses, versifier, rhymer, rhymester, poetaster, bard, minstrel, troubadour, maker, creator, author, composer, writer.

Call it what you will, one could add to the definitions: emotional, thinker, doer, active, skilled, talented, and designer.

As for yourself, what words would you add to the mix?

Regardless of what you do in life, whether you decide to become that published author, brick-layer, carpenter, doctor, mechanic, a CEO, or a ditch-digger, for your own sense of self-worth and importance as a person, as a human being, take the attitude of these six words, and carry them with you as your personal mantra.

I Can. I Must. I Will.

Don’t say: I can’t, if, doubt, I don’t think, I don’t have the time, maybe, I’m afraid of, I don’t believe, (minimize) I, and, it’s impossible.

What you can say: I can, I will expect the best, I know, I will make the time positive, I am confident, I do/will believe, (promote) you, and, It can be done.

_____________________________________________________________________

“For all things are possible. Without possibilities, we have nothing. With possibilities, we have everything.” - Me

“Honesty’s the best policy – Miguel de Cervantes

“Liar’s prosper” – unknown.

These quotes worth remembering.

The first, is that good writing consists of mastering the fundamentals such as vocabulary, grammar, and the elements of style.

The other, is that while it is impossible to make a competent writer out of a bad writer, and while it is just as impossible to make a great writer out of a good one; it is possible, with hard work, dedication, and more work, to make a good writer out of a competent one.

And let’s face facts, when writing fiction, every writer out there known to us is a paid professional liar entertaining the hell out of us!

Here is an interesting true story.

What is the difference between you, and Stephen King?

He can command well over $1,000,000 in advance for a novel today, even if it had but a single word on a page (slight exaggeration). Why is that? Because he honed and polished his craft to become one of the most read writer’s around the globe. He didn’t start off making that kind of money overnight.

But what makes you and Stephen King the same?

Simple: you both start with a blank page. You both stare at a sheet of white pureness until the first word is put down.

Any story you write, should have, must have, a strong and captivating opening to catch the reader’s attention. It is well known that a single line opener, or a four-line paragraph will further a writer’s career or destroy it.

I am a firm believer that as a writer you should:

1) Already know your ending before you begin Chapter One

2) Already have it written

3) Fill in the middle that holds the start and finish together.

Those who take on a writing career (profession), take on a task that can be done in a month, or a year; some may take years, before that that all-important novel you know sleeps, eats, and breathes inside you, wants to be wakened, written and feel very much alive. Some of you now are already published author’s, but there are always tips of the trade that can help you even more. Within all that will appear here over the weeks, there will be a line or two that will trip your writing light fantastic.

As new writer’s, being recognized by the marketing industry is difficult, but it can be done.

Sorry, I side-tracked myself. Let me get back to that true story.

Stephen King started in a single-wide trailer writing short stories he would sell to skin magazines back in the 60’s and early 70’s, of which he sold them under the name, Richard Bachman. His first major release in 1974 was ‘Carrie’ (He wrote under his own name), practically sent him soaring to Number One on the Best-Seller’s List, and later became a movie with the same name in 1976 that helped his career even more. His works today are printed in 26 different languages, and he has written both screenplays and non-fiction as well.

So, I think, if a small-time guy in a single-wide, working as a short-order cook making $150 a week can make it … why can’t you.

The only way you won’t make it in this business is one thing: you don’t give it your very best and treat it like it is your best friend or lover.

Know this: breaking into the business isn’t easy, but it is doable.

Most new writers begin with small press publications/magazines. They may or may not pay you, but moist will send you 1-5 copies of your work in print. If they don’t pay you, then see the published story or poem as part of your resume. The more you get published this way, the sooner you will be able to take the next step and begin submitting to publishers. Once you can convince them by an already proven record of accomplishment; there will be a publisher that will offer you a contract. That means it becomes official: you are a published, not writer, but a novelist, an author! That has a much better sound, doesn’t it? And much later into this course, I will go into more detail.

But here I want to make one very necessary point. If your intent is to write to make a ton of money, large or small … forget it. It will never happen. That attitude can and will show up in a hurried write and often, overkill. As a writer, or novelist, your writing should be because it is something you love doing and that you want to entertain your audience. Just keep that in mind. If you do that, the money will come.

I have often said to my students: if one person who reads what I write, gets something from it, then I have done my job as a writer.

Next, I will have a section on the one area we all need help with at some point or another. Grammar and punctuation. (Yeah, I know ... you hate it ... so sue me.)

This will be the only “class” you attend you will never have to pay for. And I don’t know about you, but I love free stuff, especially when it really is free!

And for the final kicker this week, I leave you with a few fun things to ponder over.

Palindromes (which a word or series of word is spelled the same backward as well as forward) and Homophones (where these words, though spelled differently have the same exact sound.)

Perhaps there may be a poem or short story from these words. Hmmm … now there’s a scary thought.

_____________________________________________________________________

Palindromes

A Toyota—civic—deer breed—don’t nod—eye—level—madam, I’m Adam—never odd or even—Otto—pop—bob—radar—see referees—step on no pets—top spot—a nut for a jar of tuna—bird rib—borrow or rob—I did, I did—live not on evil—ma has a ham—no lemon, no melon—not so, Boston—pa’s a sap—pupils slip up—rise to vote, sir—rotator—Roy, am I mayor—tenet—was it a rat I saw.

Homophones

Aid/aide—air/heir/err—ant/aunt—allowed/aloud—arc/ark—aural/oral—away/aweigh—ball/bawl—band/banned—baron/barren—be/be—beach/beech—bite/byte—fir/fur—flour/flower—foreward/forward—gait/gate—gilt/guilt—grease/Greece—great/grate—groan/grown—hall/haul—hire/higher—peace/piece—pleas/please—pole/poll—pray/prey—real/reel—rows/rose—to/too/two—sea/see.

Writers,  

     Seattle Refined did a remarkable spot on us. From a bar in West Seattle to the downtown offices of Prose., this three-minute piece came out nice and clean. Link is below.

     We hope your sentences are hitting the page lean and mean, and to see more of your work across this spectrum words. Thanks for being here. 

Go to minute 14:00. 

https://youtube.com/watch?v=fm-uquSrxSI&