Category Archives: Writing

Ae Freislighe Poem: Train Wreck

nottingham train

Train Wreck

The train rambles wistfully;

Not that my heart is rattling

as I gaze out blissfully.

I find my soul keeps battling.

 

Something bright, like ambition,

kept me from being faithful.

It allowed the omission

of what I saw as blameful.

 

My own truth is absolute;

Your truth could never relate.

I carried on, resolute,

in hope your pain would abate.

 

Our friendship is tenuous

But better than to strangle

a love that was generous.

Wistfully, will I ramble.

A.E.W.

Cat

Advertisements

Just Before Dawn

I anticipate the sun;

His bright red face

burning through

the dark night of

the soul.

He’ll pucker up

then blow away

Clouds,

then plant

a warm

Yellow kiss

on my belly.

Soon,

I’ll return home.

A.E.W.

[Photo courtesy Chris Frosin]


A November Poem on the Ubiquitous Quiet & Death of Love

Chance of Clouds

There is a sun out there, I know.

Potentially it can be warm, I know.

But the clouds are too heavy,

The clouds are too grey,

The clouds just keep being

in the way.

There is a smile there, I know.

Potentially there can be laughter.

But the clouds are too heavy,

The clouds are too grey,

The clouds just keep getting

in the way.

There is love there, I know.

Potentially times can be better.

But the clouds are too heavy,

The clouds are too grey,

The clouds just make me

want to stay away.


By AEW


Haiku: Yellow

Strong & courageous, 

My Sun shines from my belly.

I accept myself.

— A.E.W.


Haiku- Last Minute 2016

fear

Unbearable noise,

Cyclone ripping through our mirth.

Another Sun dawns.

–AEW


Prompt #2 Write something “On The Road” 

“HEATHEN”

No regret in taking the Heartbreak Highway. I have had no end of company on this road. In the end with you, I  guess, I was just a flash of rag-tag blur as you sped by at 55mph. Perhaps you pined a little as you saw me in that proverbial rear-view mirror of yours while that plain little woman sitting next to you passed you a ham sandwich and prattled on about the wedding plans she made for you both.

And I walk on with nothing left to lose— With the Sun on my face— I squint into the thermals bluring my memory of our mad love. But these thoughts are as elusive as the sweet smell of mesquite after a desert rain.

I need coffee.


Haiku: Rocket

Trailblazing day; 

My thoughts follow the sun’s path 

In relative haste. 

By A.E. Wallace 


Excerpt from The Vermilion Smoke

verm

Looking out into the nebulous horizon, Rigo steered the wheel. The tails of his flight coat flapped in the breeze. He could taste a metallic flavour in the air. Tears began to sting at his eyes but he was unsure if it was due to the quality of the air or the thought of Persephone lost in the ether. He shook the doubt from his mind and decided the woman was far too formidable to not have made correct calculations. Although she might not have yet reached her destination, she would do. Or perhaps she already had, he thought. Perhaps she found Captain Pepperdrake and Lenore. Perhaps even now somewhere in time, she might be toasting to her success in helping her brother find his lost love. She most likely was basking in the glory of their admiration and gratefulness. She was also most likely cursing Rigo and wondering what was taking him so long to get to them.

Or perhaps not. There had not been any transmissions from Persephone’s coms device in two days. However, the dials on the Tempus Sextant rotated chaotically indicating she was still moving through time. This gave him hope. It meant, theoretically, he could track her and find her. He would be able to follow her if he could just track the sky right. He needed to see the signs so he needed to fly into the eye of the storm. Although he was a navigator, he was not a scientist. That had been Persephone’s talent. She would know when all the conditions were right. She would know when to anchor and lock in to time. With one vial of Fluxinium left, he knew there would be only one chance to make it through the porthole.

He felt he reached the correct altitude. There was the familiar electricity in the sky prickling his face like the last time. He threw the lever into auto-pilot to maintain the course. He needed to be at the Captain’s override when the porthole opened so he could plug the Tempus Sextant into the Captain’s control panel. He looked at the spinning dials on the sextant once more before putting it into his large coat pocket.

Rigo had thrown any excess weight off the aerostat before he left the dock. All valuables had been stored at the Dr. Griffin’s warehouse. The Vermilion Smoke was barren of everything that meant anything.

Almost everything. He turned to look at Aursezz. His dragon regarded him from her corner on deck. He could not bear to part with her yet he did not know whether she would survive the journey. Her death would be even more unbearable. She never asked for this. He walked over to her, bent down and put his forehead to hers. I’ll set you free, my friend. I hope to see you again, he thought. Aursezz purred and sent him her thoughts of understanding. She acquiesced. He unlocked her from her security cable. She stretched her wings, shook them flapped once and took flight into the billowing air. He watched her fly away until her silhouette faded into the white lightening and tumorous clouds.

He was now the solitary member left on the Vermilion Smoke.  Tears stung his eyes again. This time it was not because of the air. Angrily, he wiped the tears away and brought his goggles down from the top of his leather flight cap to cover them and tightened his chinstrap. Rigo went back to the instruments and read all the gauges. He was unsure of most of the readings but he knew enough to know the craft was in good running order. The mad engineer had taught him enough to keep her running.

He reached into his coat pocket and reassuringly touched the sextant again. Then he put his left hand into his other pocket and took out a box. He brought this box to Persephone during the early days of their acquaintance. He had not long been onboard the Vermilion Smoke. He opened it. All the letters he wrote to her were still in it along with one she wrote to him. She had never sent it. He wanted to read it but a crippling regret threatened to suffocate his heart. He regarded it for what seemed an eternity lost in a golden reverie. Anger and fear took hold of him suddenly and broke the spell.

“I lied to you. I said what you wanted to hear. It’s what you wanted, my dear,” he said out loud to no one. He closed the box, walked to the bow, steadied his resolve and dropped it into the amber and bronze clouds.

The lightening clawed past the Vermilion Smoke and an eerie green illumination burst into view. This was the sign. The porthole was about to open. Rigo wished Chongan was there. The monk understood the magic of things. His quiet serenity gave the crew strength. He should have been the one to do this, thought Rigo. He bit back his doubts, went to his navigator’s podium and looked at the charts. He took out the sextant. The needle continued to move but was now wavering between two points. This was more than satisfactory.

Persephone, he thought. He picked up the vial of Fluxinium that was strapped to the podium and went to the engine room. He opened the door to the boiler and tossed the vial in. The fire went green. He slammed the door shut and bolted it. In a fluidity of motion, he turned wheels on gauges, flipped switches and pulled the correct levers for the engines then sat in Pepperdrake’s chair. The dials and switches on the arm of the chair formed an elaborate control panel that parroted those at the steering wheel. Rigo took a moment to marvel at the invention. Of course it had been Persephone’s genius that allowed her brother to fly so well.  The auto-pilot had been maintaining the course steadily but it was time to accelerate. Rigo strapped himself in, took the Tempus Sextant out of his pocket and plugged it into the control panel then flipped the master switch releasing the Vermilion Smoke from the auto-pilot.

Suddenly, the needle on the sextant steadied and locked in. The control panel accepted the reading; the lights went from amber to blue on the control panel. The sextant began to chime. The course was set. Rigo’s heart raced as he felt the thrust of acceleration. He saw the eerie green starburst of light at the centre grow bigger and bigger. He was headed into the eye of the storm and into the portal. His trajectory was set. He would see Persephone and Pepperdrake again.

–A.E.W.


Watch “Pixies – Gouge Away” on YouTube

Excerpt from “The Homing” by A.E. Wallace

He had asked to be able to harness the power of storms so he could conduct lightning through the five weirdboyz that accompanied him. Electric fingers spat from them, danced all over Brainbutcha’s armour and snaked out across the field in the direction he pointed to jolting the one and only tank that inched out to meet them.

image

by A.E. Wallace Posted from WordPress for Android


A Poem– Carnivorous Lily

Carnivorous Lilyby A.E. Wallace

Not sure how we came to the notion,
taking that potion at the end of the day—which lead to the smoking—
Seer’s Sage;
This is where it all went a different way.

Leaving my watcher,
I went for a wander
down a meandering path.
Pulled down dark chasm—floating, falling, flying —
Into a message
that shot through the dark—
from a distance—
in some uncertain tongue:

All that is, isn’t.

Chaos conversion—Tranquility.
One-time daydream demanding development–
Eaten alive in some floral reality,
the need for my Freedom became the key–
The inviolability of my heart had been much abused.
No longer loved—but bound by a vow–
The elegant simplicity;

He is not the one.
lily


The Godly Chic Diaries

BY GRACE THROUGH FAITH

Learning to write

Just your average PhD student using the internet to enhance their CV

elleguyence

New content every Sunday.

Written Word

My thoughts, my words and the story of my life.

Lonely Blue Boy

The Boy Who Cries Wolf

Wonder Diary

spilling ink...

A Writer's Soul

"Diving into a writers soul is discovering the broken treasure and beautiful mysteries that make you gasp for air."

INFJ PHD

Valuing quiet and solitude in academe.

Phoebe, MD: Medicine & Poetry

Health | Inspiration | Life

keithgarrettpoetry

Smile! You’re at the best WordPress.com site ever

emotionspassion.com

Emotional musings- emotionspassion@gmail.com

My Spirals

• Hugs and Infinities

...

love each other like you are the lyric and they are the music

How I Lost My Chains

I've Learned The Most Unlearning Everything I've Ever Known

MEDICINE FOR ALL

medicine for all