Poem: Slither

This is another poem from September of this year.
It is one of the few poems I wrote in that month in which I was not trying to find the head space of a character.
As for the state I was in... I am unable to recall.
Either way, I hope you enjoy.

Slither

Crawls from the abyss

Fresh

Hot

Stinging

Like an open wound

It seeks to consume

All encompassing

Suffocating

Struggle to breath

Then exhale.

Catch up time

I have about nine more post to do before I can consider my goal met. I will be posting up a storm this next week. 

Ares

This poem came soon after "Aphrodite" I had the idea of linking them together and I might proceed with that as it seems like a more interesting idea then the short story.

Ares

He moves in

Howls of savage man echoing around him

Armor stained with blood.

The stench of death hanging heavy in the air

Aphrodite

A poem, that I wrote when trying to work on a short story involving the goddess and a mortal servant. The story is still in its infancy.

Aphrodite

A caress of desire

Augmented by lust

War has been brought for less

November Goals... well some of them

Well, it is a start. This post is only three days late instead of a week or so. With that said, hello to those who have stumbled onto my blog!

The month is November and to all the book creators out there, you understand what that means. It means that it is time to write a novel… in a month!

Crazy is what I called it last year. Sixty thousand words or so is the goal. I had attempted the challenge by writing Rising Power, book four in the Power Series and the first side story, but quickly realized- ten thousand words or so- that I would not be able to with book three unedited.

As that was the case, I started a new story dubbed Bastard Born, a fantasy revolving around the consequences of choices. I was thirty thousand words into it when the month ended and I made planes for the sequel and four other books of the series. I lost track of the book until January, when I dusted that data file off and wrote some more. Bastard born is currently sitting at fifty-odd-thousand words. Rising Power hasn’t been touched since its inception.

Book three of the Power series still needs to be edited. This was one of my goals for last month. One of the two I didn't even attempt.

So for this month I will find a cover for book two, Power Brings Power, and edit book three, Power Breeds Power, as well as continue writing a poem every day. Make two new recipes and blog three times a week.

A goal I fell short of last month. But I did try. This month will be better.

More goals to follow.

I’m off to find some inner peace.

Good night everyone.

PDP Before the Book a Glimpse: Calvin and Kris

 “Has anyone ever told you that you are a cold hearted bitch?” Calvin asked as he watched Kris smirk at her phone.

“It’s possible, but at this level of not caring, I’m unsure.” Kris replied, taking her phone and shoving it into her pocket.

Calvin laughed. “So who did I yell at?”

“Some fool who keeps blowing up my phone.” She answered.

Calvin rolled his eyes. “That’s what you get when you accept a phone from your cousin.”

Kris shrugged and looked at her best friend. “What you making for dinner?”

“Leftovers.”

“Lazy.”

Calvin raised an eyebrow. “I don’t see you making anything.”

“Looks like mine don’t cook. They simply eat.”

“Explains your hips.”

“You calling me fat?”

“Let’s go with that.”

“Has anyone told you that you are a condescending ass?”

“More than likely,” Calvin agreed. “But when you hit my level, you no longer worry.”

Kris looked at him with wide eyes and tilted her head back. “Ha!”

So there you go. A glimpse into the lives of Calvin and Kris, the main mortals of Power Draws Power, before the arrival of Mikhail and the gods.

This idea came to me after I received a text message from someone who I had no desire to talk to after two years of silence.

But if you enjoyed this little chat between Kris and Calvin, head over to Amazon or Barnes and Nobles to purchase Power Draws Power. Links are located on the left hand side

Poem Untold

Another poem from the previous month, I don’t like it as much but I wrote it for the development of a character I haven’t even wrote about yet.

Untold

Untold are the horrors I’ve seen.

I say nothing of the offense.

Bury it down.

Deep into the pit.

Not endless,

deep enough.

For the moment…