Writing?

[grape hyacinth]

Does anyone here enjoy writing?

 

[grape hyacinth]

Grape hyacinth are my favorite flower.
I like the way they look, and they remind me of myself.
I could write about them forever, a entire book.
I feel like they feel me.
And I feel like they know me.
Often I wonder of their sanctums.
The first thought that comes to your head when you smell them is their forever sanctum.
The smell reminds you of a fashion you had long forgotten.
You feel wrapped in passion.
Perhaps, the flower smells such a way for a reason.
But what reason?
In beloved mutiny, the flower accepts treason, mutiny against evil.
Perhaps this is what the forever sanctum of the grape hyacinth is.

 

[grape hyacinth]

I also post on a writing forum but im going to be sharing some of my poetry here as well.

 

[grape hyacinth]

Pink star flowers
Pink star flowers open during the night when the sun is out of sight.
Their color is very bright.
If, perhaps, their star was pink would they seem to be in love in sink among each other.
Or perhaps during the day, the pink star would seem to go play before going away.
As if a pink star existed, how could such a riddle like this poem be resisted?
Perhaps a pink star flower is shy of a pink star in space.
These pink star flowers may be best interpreted as times grace.

 

[grape hyacinth]

Blue skew flowers.
Blue skew flowers, if they existed, I feel that I should of resisted.
Their scent smells like the word "Persisted".
Such blue skew flowers grown from vines twisted.
These blue skew flowers are difficult to write about.
They seem to me to be blue like the sky, at least when the clouds are not shy.
And when the sky does cry, the blue skew flowers may look happy that their blue sky may come again.
Or perhaps they were thirsty, or perhaps like this phrase "Why try when our colors seem to defy"

 

[grape hyacinth]

Red vine black flowers.
Red vine black flowers grow on red vines with flowers that are black.
Such vines are red like the strings of beauty, space and time together.
And these vines produce such red flowers slowly while the vines grow quickly.
To these red vine black flowers the other other colors may seem sickly, other than red.
This poem is written in text that is black when read.

 

[grape hyacinth]

Cooty cuty cats
Cooty cuty cats are white cats with tan feet.
They are a hybrid of a cooty cat and a cuty cat.
And they are very cute, some would say they have cooties like girls.
Some have hair that swirls.
Their eyes are the colors of pearls.

 

[Oliver Buckle]

I used to post on writing forums.com , they made me a patron.
During lockdown I recorded most of my short stories and put them on a YouTube channel Oliver Buckle, The Storyshack. Not all of them are mine though, I was a storyteller and have a few traditional stories I can tell off the cuff, I say that rather than 'by heart' as I tell the same story, but it is always a bit different.

 

[Oliver Buckle]

PS. I also wrote a short novel about an old people's home in South London where people who have a bit of leverage, but are not really qualified for care get sent. There is an ex-freelance spy, a dominatrix, a trade union man, and then a drug dealer turns up. It all gets quite complicated and they get up to some right shenanigans, but I have never published that in any form.

 

[grape hyacinth]

Orange flower birds.
Orange flower birds, I feel are some of the more pretty.
I feel such a bird is witty, with such a bright color giddy.
Say a Orange flower bird fed on a orange, with such a color to shed.
With a bright orange sun to bid it to bed.
Perhaps the Orange flower bird is nocturnal, and only awake at night.
Wouldn't such a orange color be sad and not so bright.
Who could say, I feel the color orange has quite the sway.
Perhaps, in some small way, a Orange flower bird has one as well, with such a vibrant color to tell.

 

[grape hyacinth]

Pearls, part one.
I feel, pearls are the beads of the ocean shore.
Perhaps, one by one they are the antidote.
Although I doubt so.
The conch shell has long sung her infinite song note by note.
Look how the pearls, in greed do pout.
Shall this poem be of a pearl in its shell or one alone?
On the beach such a lonely pearl may be prone.
Without its shell, and no song for it unknown.
Say a pearl be in its shell.
Who could say, that such a pearl belongs in such a way.
Other than the sway of the conch shells gentle stay.

 

[grape hyacinth]

Pearls, part two.
A pearl may be the bead of the oceans need.
However, to the collective grains of sand in endeavor, the weave of the ocean is the cold waves seethe.
Soothing, may seem the pearl, but with regard for forever, the conch shell may seem to churl.
Listen to the sound of the waves, saving the pearls from the oceans savage saves.

 

[MamaHawk]

PS. I also wrote a short novel about an old people's home in South London where people who have a bit of leverage, but are not really qualified for care get sent. There is an ex-freelance spy, a dominatrix, a trade union man, and then a drug dealer turns up. It all gets quite complicated and they get up to some right shenanigans, but I have never published that in any form.

Well that sounds like it could definitely go someplace for the right audience! I'd read it if it's not too risque (regarding the second character listed there ).

 

[MamaHawk]

I also post on a writing forum but im going to be sharing some of my poetry here as well.

Go for it!

 

[tyronee]

Very nice!