http://worditright.blog.co.uk/Word it Right is a site for all those passionate about writing, poetry, copywriting, reading and anything to do with words!en-UKMokoFeed10http://worditright.blog.co.uk/http://data5.blog.de/design/preview/38/df93da80897efef187ca205318ed81_160x200.jpghttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2009/09/27/where-do-writers-find-their-inspiration-7047609/tag:worditright.blog.co.uk,2009-09-27:/2009/09/27/where-do-writers-find-their-inspiration-7047609/Sun, 27 Sep 2009 09:52:05 +0200 <p>It's a very good question and one I've often found myself pondering, to the point where I'm now convinced that you cannot find it if you look for it. Inspiration is something you chance upon when you are least expecting it and the transient nature of inspiration means you cannot necessarily capture it when you need it most.</p> <p>Maintaining your inspiration long enough to write something that when read back a day later will evoke that same feeling is difficult but if it means always carrying a note pad and pen or, for the more technologically-advanced writer, an ipod or like device, then so be it.</p> <p>If walking in the dew-dropped morning glow of an autumnal landscape does not get your creative juices flowing then try sinking your teeth into the lucious, velvety warmth of a decent bar of chocolate whilst watching the world go by from behind the just-parted bedroom curtains.</p> <p>If watching a waking babe in arms open her eyes to voraciously imbibe the sights and sounds of her world does not enthuse you, try closing your own eyes and letting your senses tell their own story.</p> <p>Inspiration may be lurking just around the corner...but if the sweetly poisoned fangs of inspiration have not yet bitten you on the bottom do not despair for, as Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe once stated;</p> <p>"Magic is believing in yourself, if you can do that, you can make anything happen."</p> <p>And if a lack of passion and drive is giving you a serious dose of writers' block remember that:</p> <p>"A writer is somebody for whom writing is more difficult than it is for other people." (Thomas Mann)</p> <p>Happy scribbling/key bashing <img src="/img/smilies/icon_idea.gif" alt=":idea:" class="middle" border="0"> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://worditright.blog.co.uk/2009/09/27/where-do-writers-find-their-inspiration-7047609/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>creativewritingwriters-blockwriterinspirationhttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2009/09/27/where-do-writers-find-their-inspiration-7047609/#commentshttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/10/19/grandad_and_the_breadcrumb~3160807/tag:worditright.blog.co.uk,2007-10-19:/2007/10/19/grandad_and_the_breadcrumb~3160807/Fri, 19 Oct 2007 11:44:56 +0200 <p>It's been a while since my last post, so I hope you will all forgive me now that I am back in the world of the written word.</p> <p>Here's a comical poem for a Friday lunchtime, enjoy and have a good weekend all <img src="/img/smilies/icon_smile.gif" alt=":)" class="middle" border="0"><br> <strong><br> <u>Grandad and the Breadcrumb</u></strong></p> <p>In the crinkled crease of Grandad’s smile,<br> A breadcrumb sat to rest a while,<br> Nestling in his greyed moustache<br> The toasted morsel found a lodge.<br> I wondered whether I should say<br> A wayward crumb had lost its way?<br> But decided that instead I’d watch<br> To see the crumb become dislodged.</p> <p>Grandad coughed and cleared his throat,<br> Oblivious to the speck of loaf,<br> Still anchored in his grizzled hairs,<br> Devoid of purpose, wish or care.<br> But as he delved into the butter<br> The toasted crumb began to flutter.<br> Up and down with every breath,<br> Clinging on until the death.</p> <p>Gingerly, as if tempting fate<br> Grandad, quick, refilled his plate.<br> Piles and piles of crumbs, I feared<br> Would soon be heading for his beard,<br> Plastered thick in strawberry jam<br> And draped with rind from roasted ham.<br> In Grandad’s whiskers, who could know<br> How many crumbs had made their home?</p> <p>Armed with knife and low-fat spread<br> Grandad set upon his bread,<br> Sloshing jam and slicing fast,<br> Determined that the fun should last.<br> But how I longed to make him sneeze<br> And watch the crumb fall in the cheese.<br> Yet still the speck refused to lurch,<br> Stuck fast on its wiry perch.</p> <p>Then all at once, amidst the chatter,<br> The crumb sank slowly to the platter.<br> Floating down without a sound,<br> The tiny dot espied firm ground.<br> But Grandad, using two stout fingers,<br> Scoured the plate for all that lingered<br> A with a lick, a wipe and gulp<br> The poor breadcrumb was turned to pulp.</p> <p>© <em>Frances Pallett</em></p> <p> <small> <a href="http://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/10/19/grandad_and_the_breadcrumb~3160807/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>comicalgrandad-and-the-breadcrumbpoetrywordwritten-wordhttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/10/19/grandad_and_the_breadcrumb~3160807/#commentshttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/09/11/here_s_one_i_made_earlier~2963249/tag:worditright.blog.co.uk,2007-09-11:/2007/09/11/here_s_one_i_made_earlier~2963249/Tue, 11 Sep 2007 17:49:44 +0200 <p>Meant to post this poem earlier this morning, as it is pretty irrelevant now, but what with work, picking up son from nursery and taking said son (scared and bewildered) to dentist, I haven't had chance. Better late than never though, here's one I made earlier:</p> <p><strong>I'm really rather sleepy</strong></p> <p>I’m really rather sleepy,<br> I’d go as far to say<br> That my body’s walking freely<br> But my head’s not yet awake.<br> My fingertips are snoozing,<br> Hanging limply from my hands,<br> As I try to type a blog entry<br> That none will understand.</p> <p>I’m really rather sleepy,<br> Though I slept til half past eight<br> And I’d rather not be woken<br> From this semi-drowsy state.<br> If I could keep on dreaming<br> I’d crawl straight back into bed<br> But my brain has other things in mind<br> Like reading posts instead.</p> <p>I’m really rather sleepy<br> But perhaps I’ll give it time.<br> Perhaps in half an hour or so<br> I’ll find I’m feeling fine.<br> And if the foggy clouds of slumber<br> Still beckon me at three,<br> You can bet, under the duvet<br> Is where you’ll all find me!</p> <p>© <em>Frances Pallett</em></p> <p>Who said poetry needs to be read in context! Have a pleasant evening all <img src="/img/smilies/icon_smile.gif" alt=":)" class="middle" border="0"></p> <p> <small> <a href="http://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/09/11/here_s_one_i_made_earlier~2963249/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>sleepim-really-rather-sleepypoetryhttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/09/11/here_s_one_i_made_earlier~2963249/#commentshttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/09/04/first_cut_a_story_in_100_words~2921868/tag:worditright.blog.co.uk,2007-09-04:/2007/09/04/first_cut_a_story_in_100_words~2921868/Tue, 04 Sep 2007 10:37:47 +0200 <p>Thanks to la_spice for providing the title for this one <img src="/img/smilies/icon_smile.gif" alt=":)" class="middle" border="0"></p> <p>Here we go, then, another story in 100 words, except this time I have departed from the norm somewhat and gone for poetry rather than prose with comic rather than serious undertones.</p> <p>Hope you enjoy <img src="/img/smilies/icon_surprised.gif" alt=":o" class="middle" border="0"></p> <p><strong>First Cut</strong></p> <p><img src="http://data4.blog.de/media/361/1939361_f439036b6f_s.jpeg" alt="hairdressing scissors" vspace="5" hspace="5"></p> <p>Toni Blain was seventeen</p> <p>Her world revolved around glamour.</p> <p>She changed her face, her hair, her clothes,</p> <p>For fashion, she did clamour.</p> <p>She hated school, she left last year </p> <p>And lived a life of ease.</p> <p>‘Til her parents demanded more from her</p> <p>Than 2 measly GCSEs.</p> <p>So Toni, keen to live at home,</p> <p>Went off in search of work</p> <p>And found a little hair salon</p> <p>Where chit-chat was the perk.</p> <p>And so she trained and gained</p> <p>Respect whilst frothing in shampoo,</p> <p>Til they let her make her first cut</p> <p>And she drove the scissors through.</p> <p>© <em>Frances Pallett</em></p> <p>I think that just about completes the 100-word story challenge and well done to all of you who took up the mantle for the 50-word mini sagas. I might get around to writing another one of those myself, time permitting, if not I'll be thinking about the next writing challenge so watch this space <img src="/img/smilies/icon_rolleyes.gif" alt=":roll:" class="middle" border="0"></p> <p> <small> <a href="http://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/09/04/first_cut_a_story_in_100_words~2921868/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>first-cutstoryprosewritingpoetrymini-saga100-word-storyhttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/09/04/first_cut_a_story_in_100_words~2921868/#commentshttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/08/26/the_next_challenge_mini_sagas~2872289/tag:worditright.blog.co.uk,2007-08-26:/2007/08/26/the_next_challenge_mini_sagas~2872289/Sun, 26 Aug 2007 12:50:42 +0200 <p>Ok, so not one to dwell on anything too long and yes I know I still have one 100 word story yet to write <img src="/img/smilies/graylaugh.gif" alt=":))" class="middle" border="0"> I have decided to challenge you all to write a mini saga.</p> <p>If you thought 100-word stories were challenging then wait until you try to fit a story into 50 words!</p> <p>Yes, that is the mini saga, an incredibly short tale and a hair-pulling experience for the author.</p> <p>To give you an idea, here's a mini saga I wrote some time ago:</p> <p><strong>A Farmers Wife</strong></p> <p><img src="http://data4.blog.de/media/576/1913576_5addb93154_s.jpeg" alt="potato farming" vspace="5" hspace="5"></p> <p>Tall and lean Jim met short and fat Cynthia.</p> <p>They endured 40 years of marital bliss, he enjoyed gardening, she liked chips...</p> <p>Until one day his potatoes didn't come up to scratch, so she buried him under his vegetable plot and eloped to Jersey with an old, bald farmer.</p> <p>© <em>Frances Pallett </em></p> <p>Any new challenges are welcome and in the meantime, for anybody who wants to accept my challenge here are a few titles:</p> <p>Midnight Molasses</p> <p>The Girl with the Pink Hair</p> <p>Grumpy old Men</p> <p>A Barnyard Affair</p> <p>Have fun <img src="/img/smilies/icon_smile.gif" alt=":)" class="middle" border="0"></p> <p> <small> <a href="http://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/08/26/the_next_challenge_mini_sagas~2872289/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>a-farmers-wifetalemini-saga100-word-storieswritingmini-sagasauthorhttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/08/26/the_next_challenge_mini_sagas~2872289/#commentshttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/08/26/when_john_loved_the_whale_a_story_in_100~2871711/tag:worditright.blog.co.uk,2007-08-26:/2007/08/26/when_john_loved_the_whale_a_story_in_100~2871711/Sun, 26 Aug 2007 10:53:34 +0200 <p>Thanks to Redflaw for this challenging title! As promised, here is another story in 100 words.</p> <p>Enjoyed writing it, so hope you enjoy reading it.</p> <p><strong>When John loved the Whale</strong></p> <p><img src="http://data4.blog.de/media/577/1913577_e426588e33_s.jpeg" alt="whale" vspace="5" hspace="5"></p> <p>John was tired of being ten.</p> <p>Too old for crying, too young to be taken seriously.</p> <p>John’s dreams reached above his parents semi-detached, suburban, 2.4 lifestyle to the big world beyond. </p> <p>The annual family holiday, introduced him to fishing and whale watching. And in the ocean John had found his calling.</p> <p>30 years later, standing on the decaying pier, watching boats cruise past and carrying the laptop case that signified his mundane work as an IT technician, he thought only of being ten again.</p> <p>When he ached to be older and fulfil his dreams.</p> <p>When John loved the whale.</p> <p>© <em>Frances Pallett</em></p> <p> <small> <a href="http://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/08/26/when_john_loved_the_whale_a_story_in_100~2871711/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>story-in-100-wordswhen-john-loved-the-whalewritinghttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/08/26/when_john_loved_the_whale_a_story_in_100~2871711/#commentshttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/08/24/the_old_boot_a_story_in_100_words~2863794/tag:worditright.blog.co.uk,2007-08-24:/2007/08/24/the_old_boot_a_story_in_100_words~2863794/Fri, 24 Aug 2007 17:14:01 +0200 <p>Thanks to la_spice for providing me with another challenging title for a story in 100 words.</p> <p>Hope my writing does it justice <img src="/img/smilies/icon_smile.gif" alt=":)" class="middle" border="0"></p> <p><strong>The Old Boot</strong></p> <p><img src="http://data4.blog.de/media/291/1909291_d32d9bcbfc_s.jpeg" alt="old boot" vspace="5" hspace="5"></p> <p>My strongest childhood memories are my Father’s fisherman tales.</p> <p>Then, the port of Lucklorth bustled with trawlers, clanking lobster baskets and Father, aboard the Old Boot, bringing in his catch.</p> <p>The boat was affectionately named after my Mother and her enthusiasm for darning everything, including footwear. Father could buy just one new boot and make a good pair.</p> <p>She left, whilst he was out at sea and I was scouring rock pools.</p> <p>I never saw her again, her infectious smile, her caring eyes.</p> <p>She said he loved the sea.</p> <p>But he loved the Old Boot most of all.</p> <p>© <em>Frances Pallett</em></p> <p> <small> <a href="http://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/08/24/the_old_boot_a_story_in_100_words~2863794/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>writingthe-old-bootstory-in-100-wordshttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/08/24/the_old_boot_a_story_in_100_words~2863794/#commentshttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/08/20/another_story_in_100_words_hidden_treasu~2838000/tag:worditright.blog.co.uk,2007-08-20:/2007/08/20/another_story_in_100_words_hidden_treasu~2838000/Mon, 20 Aug 2007 11:45:01 +0200 <p>Many thanks to la_spice, my blog friend, for providing me with the title for another story in 100 words. It's not as easy as it sounds <img src="/img/smilies/grayuhoh.gif" alt="U-(" class="middle" border="0"> but if anyone else would like to challenge me, please feel free to send me a title and I'll get writing! </p> <p><strong>Hidden Treasure</strong></p> <p>They said I was getting fat. </p> <p>I said baggy was the fashion. </p> <p>Who were my parents to dictate what I ate anyway?</p> <p>I had fat friends. I had thin friends. I had a boyfriend they didn’t know about.</p> <p>As I sat, alone, in the sterile waiting room, I felt they didn’t know me either.</p> <p>Cool gel oozed on my plumpness, ‘It’s a girl’ she said. My precious girl.</p> <p>She couldn’t stay my secret forever. </p> <p>Her ‘parents’ will collect her from the delivery suite. I’ll be her first kiss and first goodbye.</p> <p>But like well hidden treasure, she’ll be mine to find.</p> <p>© <em>Frances Pallett</em></p> <p>For anyone who has bothered to count the words, yes I know there are 101, but la I hope you can forgive me <img src="/img/smilies/icon_smile.gif" alt=":)" class="middle" border="0"> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/08/20/another_story_in_100_words_hidden_treasu~2838000/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>writingstoryhidden-treasurestory-in-100-wordshttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/08/20/another_story_in_100_words_hidden_treasu~2838000/#commentshttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/08/17/holiday_time~2823353/tag:worditright.blog.co.uk,2007-08-17:/2007/08/17/holiday_time~2823353/Fri, 17 Aug 2007 12:01:09 +0200 <p>For all those who will soon be jetting off to sunnier climes (which right now could mean anywhere!) and to rekindle memories of holidays past, I give you this poem:</p> <p><strong>Holiday Time</strong></p> <p><img src="http://data4.blog.de/media/892/1889892_273770b967_s.jpeg" alt="2005_0922Image0026" vspace="5" hspace="5"></p> <p>Holiday time,<br> Financial whine,<br> Plane to catch<br> Shoes to match?<br> Sun, surf and sea<br> Waiting for me.<br> Crashing waves,<br> All-night raves.<br> Beach body bared<br> Public beware!<br> Tiny thongs<br> Hide no wrongs.<br> Each day begun,<br> With warming sun.<br> Midday heat<br> Melting feet.<br> Watch! oversized<br> And scary-eyed<br> Big insects<br> Bite and peck.<br> Factor twenty<br> Should be plenty.<br> From the top…<br> Slip, slap, slop.<br> Reserved sunbeds<br> Summon hot heads,<br> Tempting sleep<br> Time will keep.<br> Sandcastles brave<br> The swooping waves.<br> Flags full mast,<br> Nothing lasts.<br> Cocktails all round?<br> Sparklers abound.<br> Drinks ablaze,<br> Children dazed.<br> Fall sound asleep<br> Cockroaches creep.<br> Out to play,<br> Dart away.<br> Two weeks of this;<br> Relaxing bliss,<br> Almost gone.<br> Nights left: one.<br> And so ‘til dawn,<br> ‘Til early morn,<br> Cases crammed,<br> Coaches jammed,<br> We wait. We sing.<br> Take it all in.<br> Teary eyes,<br> Say goodbyes.<br> Some last snapshots<br> And that’s your lot.<br> Roll on next year<br> T’will soon be here.</p> <p>© <em>Frances Pallett</em></p> <p> <small> <a href="http://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/08/17/holiday_time~2823353/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>holiday-timeholidaypoetrytravelhttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/08/17/holiday_time~2823353/#commentshttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/08/06/a_dragonfly_took_a_liking_to_my_freshly_~2763751/tag:worditright.blog.co.uk,2007-08-06:/2007/08/06/a_dragonfly_took_a_liking_to_my_freshly_~2763751/Mon, 06 Aug 2007 13:40:59 +0200 <p>A poem dedicated to a wonderful moment, to sharing nature; for only in poetry can we truly appreciate what it is we see.</p> <p><strong>A Dragonfly took a liking to my freshly washed jeans</strong></p> <p><img src="http://data4.blog.de/media/935/1859935_e2a414b024_s.jpeg" alt="dragonfly" vspace="5" hspace="5"></p> <p>A dragonfly took a liking to my freshly washed jeans.<br> Hung out on the line,<br> In fitful sunshine.</p> <p>It landed, proudly displaying its clear gossamer wings,<br> Holographic gleams<br> Of shimmering green.</p> <p>Closer and closer I edged towards its graceful beauty,<br> Amazed at the sight<br> Of one not in flight.</p> <p>Minutes passed, I dwelled with the eternity of silence<br> And to memory,<br> Wrote each quality.</p> <p>A tiny work of art, dappled with vibrant elegance.<br> Small sections knitted,<br> Perfectly fitted.</p> <p>My jeans were dry but I lingered to gaze at the splendour.<br> Privileged to see<br> Nature so closely.</p> <p>Then the breeze tickled my neck and as quickly as it came<br> Wings fluttered and left<br> To find jeans still wet.</p> <p>© <em>Frances Pallett</em></p> <p> <small> <a href="http://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/08/06/a_dragonfly_took_a_liking_to_my_freshly_~2763751/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>naturedragonflyjeanspoetryhttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/08/06/a_dragonfly_took_a_liking_to_my_freshly_~2763751/#commentshttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/08/04/dreams~2755369/tag:worditright.blog.co.uk,2007-08-04:/2007/08/04/dreams~2755369/Sat, 04 Aug 2007 18:07:32 +0200 <p>An award-winning poem, to soothe and calm your fears, to ease you into Saturday night and to wish you pleasant dreams when your head finally hits the pillow.<br> <strong><br> Dreams</strong></p> <p>Fear has no place here, neither<br> Doubt, nor shame, nor death.<br> I am very much alive, though<br> Not awake. Just drifting till morn,<br> Drawing strength with every breath.<br> Faces new and faces old, enmesh<br> Themselves and become one, friend or foe<br> Eyes can't discern, yet no harm<br> Will come. The script is mine<br> To tell. It will be so.<br> It is my special time, the night,<br> When sleep refreshes me with dreams<br> Of fantastic images painted on<br> The insides of my eyelids, so<br> Nothing is as it seems.<br> Clocks bear no intrusion here, hour<br> Hands play silent on cloudy dials.<br> No time to call on the dream<br> Stories' fate. Forgotten frowns<br> Usurped by morning smiles.<br> How then can I favour so much, this<br> Time, each dream, each hazy night,<br> When often I remember not how I<br> Spent the hours behind closed eyes,<br> Unrecognised in fresh daylight?<br> It is because I have the chance,<br> The power to create moments, new<br> And unreal. To change to relive<br> This worn out life. And it is<br> Because I can dream of you.</p> <p>© <em>Frances Pallett</em></p> <p>Wishing you all a relaxing and pleasant Saturday evening <img src="/img/smilies/icon_cool.gif" alt="B)" class="middle" border="0"> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/08/04/dreams~2755369/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>nightpoetrydreamshttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/08/04/dreams~2755369/#commentshttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/08/03/how_i_am_feeling_this_morning~2748174/tag:worditright.blog.co.uk,2007-08-03:/2007/08/03/how_i_am_feeling_this_morning~2748174/Fri, 03 Aug 2007 09:57:32 +0200 <p>A poem to describe the lethargy, illness-related-fuzziness and general Friday morning feeling of wishing the working week would just end:</p> <p><strong>Brain fog</strong></p> <p><img src="http://data4.blog.de/media/842/1851842_cc6e9d96d2_s.jpeg" alt="j0308953" vspace="5" hspace="5"></p> <p>Brain fog,<br> Head smog,<br> Cannot think<br> For pie.</p> <p>Drowned out,<br> Frowned out,<br> Thoughts fade<br> And die.</p> <p>Eyes droop,<br> Flies swoop,<br> Craziness<br> Abounds.</p> <p>Head falls,<br> Bed calls,<br> Laziness<br> Is found.</p> <p>© <em>Frances Pallett</em></p> <p> <small> <a href="http://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/08/03/how_i_am_feeling_this_morning~2748174/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>poetryfridaybrain-foghttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/08/03/how_i_am_feeling_this_morning~2748174/#commentshttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/08/01/a_poem_for_wednesday~2737225/tag:worditright.blog.co.uk,2007-08-01:/2007/08/01/a_poem_for_wednesday~2737225/Wed, 01 Aug 2007 10:43:04 +0200 <p>Ok, so it has nothing to do with Wednesday but today felt like the right time to share some more poetry with you <img src="/img/smilies/icon_wink.gif" alt=";)" class="middle" border="0"><br> <strong><br> My Little Tree<br> </strong></p> <p><img src="http://data4.blog.de/media/146/1833146_dc7e3b292e_s.jpeg" alt="DSCF0014" vspace="5" hspace="5"></p> <p>I look at you, my little tree<br> And wonder, do you look at me,<br> Or is it just the air we breathe<br> That makes us feel the same?</p> <p>I've watched you grow and sometimes wilt<br> And wondered, often out of guilt<br> If I'm to blame for your demise,<br> Or if my own is fault enough?</p> <p>I show you where to find the light<br> And wonder, do you sleep at night?<br> Whilst I lie restless, open-eyed,<br> Afraid to let the dark inside.</p> <p>I count the spots upon your leaves<br> And wonder, if such marks conceal<br> The pain and torment life has caused,<br> Or if that pain is mine, not yours?</p> <p>I look at you, my little tree<br> And wonder, if I rightly see<br> A withered plant upon a shelf<br> Or a mirror image of myself?</p> <p>© <em>Frances Pallett</em></p> <p>Ok, so the tree is a little on the large side for sitting on the shelf, but it is a lovely tree don't you think? Picture was taken whilst walking in the grounds of a National Trust Property - Charlecote Park, I think <img src="/img/smilies/icon_idea.gif" alt=":idea:" class="middle" border="0"> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/08/01/a_poem_for_wednesday~2737225/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>treepoetrywednesdaymy-little-treehttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/08/01/a_poem_for_wednesday~2737225/#commentshttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/07/30/title~2726956/tag:worditright.blog.co.uk,2007-07-30:/2007/07/30/title~2726956/Mon, 30 Jul 2007 14:25:42 +0200 <p>I was set the task some time ago, of writing a short story in 100 words. It is a great writing exercise, especially for someone like me who likes to be generous with words. I was given the title and left to my own devices...here is the result:</p> <p><strong>Out of the gravel there are peonies growing</strong></p> <p><img src="http://data4.blog.de/media/998/1841998_62c97ef223_s.jpeg" alt="peony" vspace="5" hspace="5"></p> <p>Out of the gravel there are peonies growing. Peonies my mother planted and lovingly tended, now trampled by tyre treads and small shoes; blood red reminders of a shrouded past.</p> <p>She got cancer and we tarmacked the garden. Yet here were newborn crimson heads thrusting their way into my guilt stained domain.</p> <p>I parked my car over them, tried to uproot them. But I was holding her hand, pulling her back.</p> <p>Her tormented face. So soon forgotten.</p> <p>"Mummy, look! Another flower!"</p> <p>Tears, on fresh petals.</p> <p>"Why do they make you sad?"</p> <p>I would have to tell my children.</p> <p>I gave her the tablets; I killed Grandma.</p> <p>© <em>Frances Pallett</em></p> <p>If anyone wants to suggest another title, I'll happily give it a go <img src="/img/smilies/icon_smile.gif" alt=":)" class="middle" border="0"> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/07/30/title~2726956/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>wordsstoryshort-storywritingwriting-exercisehttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/07/30/title~2726956/#commentshttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/07/25/kids_talk~2700235/tag:worditright.blog.co.uk,2007-07-25:/2007/07/25/kids_talk~2700235/Wed, 25 Jul 2007 18:02:25 +0200 <p>"<strong>Children are gleeful barbarians</strong>"<br> <em><br> Joseph Morgenstern</em> (1968)</p> <p>And here's something I penned earlier, a poem about the sheer bliss of irresponsibility that is childhood.</p> <p><strong>Busy Doing Nothing</strong></p> <p>I have not time to tie my shoes,<br> To wash my hands or face.<br> I have not time to sit and choose<br> Which room I’ll next deface.<br> I have not time to learn my sums<br> Or read another book.<br> I have not time to clean my gums<br> Or give my pets a look.<br> I have not time to put away<br> My toys, or make my bed.<br> I have not time to find a way<br> To turn the walls back red.<br> I have not time to eat my tea;<br> I hate fish stew and rice.<br> I have not time to brush my hair<br> Or let you bathe the lice.<br> I have not time to help you out,<br> To smile or laugh or sing.<br> I have not time to please, for I’m<br> Busy doing nothing.</p> <p>© Frances Pallett</p> <p>Ringing any bells yet?</p> <p>Have a pleasant evening all <img src="/img/smilies/icon_mrgreen.gif" alt=":>>" class="middle" border="0"> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/07/25/kids_talk~2700235/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>childhoodbusy-doing-nothingchildrenpoemchildrens-poetryhttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/07/25/kids_talk~2700235/#commentshttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/07/23/a_little_something_to_combat_the_rain~2685692/tag:worditright.blog.co.uk,2007-07-23:/2007/07/23/a_little_something_to_combat_the_rain~2685692/Mon, 23 Jul 2007 11:51:26 +0200 <p>Endless drips down my window pane,<br> Sap the strength from my working brain<br> And I'm sure, yes I'm sure that it's summer again<br> Yet the sun is still masked by a deluge of rain!</p> <p>Ok, so it may never stop raining, but here's a poem to take your mind of your soggy shoes and 3-days-wet washing:</p> <p><strong>The Beach</strong></p> <p><img src="http://data4.blog.de/media/419/1821419_7b867f6edb_s.jpeg" alt="cornwall beach picture for word it right blog" vspace="5" hspace="5"></p> <p>Cascading waves with crests of white<br> Frolic in fanciful delight,<br> Submerging swimmers in frothy heights.</p> <p>Their squeals of joy as waters break<br> Across the sandy shore, will wake<br> The sleeping beach-bum, ready baked.</p> <p>Handkerchiefed head, secured with band,<br> He, shaded, guards his grainy strand.<br> sun bed deployed and windbreak manned.</p> <p>But threat of attack ends with the sea.<br> Where lurks the grey finned enemy,<br> Patiently gliding hungrily.</p> <p>Bikini-clad bathers now laid bare<br> To the perilous depths of the ocean's lair,<br> Blind to the sign saying 'SHARK, BEWARE!'</p> <p>Cascading waves with crests of white<br> Frolic in fanciful delight,<br> Swirling round swimmers in fearful flight.</p> <p>© <em>Frances Pallett<br> </em></p> <p>P.S - picture was taken whilst on holiday in North Cornwall but can't remember exactly where <img src="/img/smilies/icon_rolleyes.gif" alt=":roll:" class="middle" border="0"> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/07/23/a_little_something_to_combat_the_rain~2685692/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>rainthe-beachsummerrainingpoetryhttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/07/23/a_little_something_to_combat_the_rain~2685692/#commentshttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/07/20/my_blog_poetry_challenge~2669365/tag:worditright.blog.co.uk,2007-07-20:/2007/07/20/my_blog_poetry_challenge~2669365/Fri, 20 Jul 2007 11:42:41 +0200 <p>Half an hour ago I challenged myself to write a poem with all the top blog tags for the last 24 hours. The tags were:</p> <p><em>art, blog, blogging, economy, entertainment, fiction, food, friends, fun, funny, Harry Potter, health, humour, leisure, life, love, men, music, news, poetry, politics, sex, travel, work and writing</em>.</p> <p>And this is the result:<br> <strong><br> The Art of Blogging (it's really quite funny)</strong></p> <p>The art of blogging is rather like life;<br> Hard work, yet fun and with rather less strife.<br> A blog can have fiction, music or news,<br> Be laced with humour or left to bemuse.</p> <p>Thoughts are posted and read at your leisure,<br> For your entertainment, a veiled treasure<br> And rather like sex, or good politics<br> There's nothing their ramblings and moans can't fix.</p> <p>Onwards we blog, making friends, making good<br> The poetry of love, the love of fine food.<br> Improving our health, improving our men,<br> Dreaming of travel and writing again.</p> <p>And in this economy of blog feeds,<br> Where we trade our feelings, wishes and needs,<br> Harry Potter himself could not conjure a spell<br> To make us stop blogging, to make us not tell.</p> <p>© <em>Frances Pallett</em></p> <p>Ok, so it's hardly worthy of fame but I challenge you to rise to the occasion and pen something better <img src="/img/smilies/icon_lol.gif" alt=":DD" class="middle" border="0"> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/07/20/my_blog_poetry_challenge~2669365/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>sexblogginghealthworkfunblogfictionharry-potterhumourfunnyentertainmentlifeleisurefriendslovemusicwritingnewspoliticspoetryartfoodeconomytravelhttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/07/20/my_blog_poetry_challenge~2669365/#commentshttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/07/19/quotation_for_the_day~2663155/tag:worditright.blog.co.uk,2007-07-19:/2007/07/19/quotation_for_the_day~2663155/Thu, 19 Jul 2007 11:55:13 +0200 <p>Not enjoying the day at work? </p> <p>Everyone else basking in the rare sunshine whilst you are slogging (or blogging) away?</p> <p>Wish you could give it all up and do something mind-numbingly droll?</p> <p>Well don't because as Joseph Conrad said in the <em>Heart of Darkness</em></p> <p>"<strong>I don't like work--no man does, but I like what is in the work, the chance to find yourself</strong>"</p> <p>And if you are still struggling to put pen to paper (or finger to keyboard) and produce anything worth saving, take heart from Anthony Trollope's quote from <em>Barchester Towers</em>:</p> <p>"<strong>There is no way of writing well and also of writing easily.</strong>"</p> <p>Have a lovely day all and enjoy the sunshine <img src="/img/smilies/icon_smile.gif" alt=":)" class="middle" border="0"> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/07/19/quotation_for_the_day~2663155/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>quotesunshineblogginganthony-trollopejoseph-conradquotationworkdayhttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/07/19/quotation_for_the_day~2663155/#commentshttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/07/18/poem_for_the_day~2656343/tag:worditright.blog.co.uk,2007-07-18:/2007/07/18/poem_for_the_day~2656343/Wed, 18 Jul 2007 09:20:41 +0200 <p>Poetry is as good a way as any to get your brain engaged for the day. This one is for all those who, like me, enjoy history and archaeology:</p> <p><strong>Relic</strong></p> <p><img src="http://data4.blog.de/media/442/1821442_5132dc0042_s.jpeg" alt="Fran\" vspace="5" hspace="5"></p> <p>Monument of the distant past,<br> Bestow on me your knowledge vast<br> Of peoples long gone to the sky<br> and let me relish with mine eye,<br> The beauty of your simple lines<br> And stories stamped in your designs;<br> Crude etchings drawn with graceful paw,<br> Embodied histories stark and raw.</p> <p>No greater purpose have you served<br> Than now, in a museum, observed.<br> Where eyes undress and fingers maul<br> Your surface stone, your hidden core.</p> <p>Artefact of ancestral late<br> Deliver your culture to its fate.<br> Time, forever on your side,<br> For Earth's dial you can override.</p> <p>Priceless wonder, I gaze in awe<br> At the craftsmanship of those before;<br> My modern day is not that far<br> From the ancient history that you are.</p> <p>© <em>Frances Pallett</em></p> <p>Picture is of a carving at Wenlock Priory, Shropshire. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/07/18/poem_for_the_day~2656343/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>poetryarchaeologywenlock-priorydayhistoryhttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/07/18/poem_for_the_day~2656343/#commentshttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/07/17/quotations_for_the_morning~2649750/tag:worditright.blog.co.uk,2007-07-17:/2007/07/17/quotations_for_the_morning~2649750/Tue, 17 Jul 2007 08:53:22 +0200 <p>For those who have had a bad night (screaming babies, snoring partners, troublesome toddlers/teenagers, aches, pains, migraines and aeroplanes):</p> <p>“<strong>No man knows till he has suffered from the night how sweet and dear to his heart and eye the morning can be</strong>.”</p> <p>Bram Stoker, <em>Dracula</em></p> <p>And a word for the wise, who may or may not have forgotten to have their bowl of soggy cornflakes or slice of toast and jam:</p> <p>“<strong>We had our breakfasts--whatever happens in a house, robbery or murder, it doesn't matter, you must have your breakfast</strong>.”</p> <p>Wilkie Collins, <em>The Moontstone</em></p> <p> <small> <a href="http://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/07/17/quotations_for_the_morning~2649750/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>breakfastnightquotationwilkie-collinsbram-stokerquotation-for-the-morningmorningthe-moonstonedraculahttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/07/17/quotations_for_the_morning~2649750/#commentshttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/07/16/work_overload_quotation_for_the_day~2644514/tag:worditright.blog.co.uk,2007-07-16:/2007/07/16/work_overload_quotation_for_the_day~2644514/Mon, 16 Jul 2007 13:08:36 +0200 <p>For all those, like me, who are currently so busy that they have lost all track of date, time and reality. For those whose heads hurt from repeatedly looking at nonsensical figures, for those whose legs hurt from running up and down the stairs and for those, like me, whose pens are burning holes through paper and whose keyboards have RSI:</p> <p>"<strong>The secret of the truly successful, I believe, is that they learned very early in life how not to be busy. They saw through that adage, repeated to me so often in childhood, that anything worth doing is worth doing well. The truth is, many things are worth doing only in the most slovenly, halfhearted fashion possible, and many other things are not worth doing at all.</strong>"</p> <p>Barbara Ehrenreich (b. 1941), U.S. author, columnist, taken from <em>The Cult of Busyness</em>,(First published 1985).</p> <p>Enjoy the rest of your working/writing day <img src="/img/smilies/icon_wink.gif" alt=";)" class="middle" border="0"> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/07/16/work_overload_quotation_for_the_day~2644514/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>workwritingworkingquotationhttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/07/16/work_overload_quotation_for_the_day~2644514/#commentshttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/07/15/time_for_a_little_indulgence~2638407/tag:worditright.blog.co.uk,2007-07-15:/2007/07/15/time_for_a_little_indulgence~2638407/Sun, 15 Jul 2007 13:27:17 +0200 <p><strong>Chocolate</strong></p> <p>You truly are one of life's pleasures,<br> I keep you hidden, my secret treasure<br> And seek you when I'm feeling lost,<br> I'll never share you at any cost.</p> <p>I long for you once you are gone,<br> You seem to make right all that's wrong.<br> My friend, my love, my cherished dear,<br> You are the one who keeps me here.</p> <p>My body takes you without a qualm,<br> Your soothing presence maintains my calm.<br> My tongue delights in your embrace,<br> You put the smile back on my face.</p> <p>You plague my mind, both day and night.<br> In your wickedness I delight.<br> I could devour you oh so fast<br> But love to make the pleasure last.</p> <p>Hands twitch 'til you come undone,<br> Disrobing you is half the fun,<br> And in your nakedness you start<br> To satisfy this hungry heart.</p> <p>For each desire you fill, I'm left<br> Desiring more and hoping to get<br> Another fix of your velvet touch,<br> For sweetness, you have turned to lust.</p> <p>And when my moment's passion dies,<br> All that's left before my eyes<br> Is evidence of where you've been,<br> But you are nowhere to be seen.</p> <p>You conquered me and then you fled,<br> My heart and stomach turned to lead,<br> Gasping for the breath you stole<br> In giving freedom to my soul.</p> <p>And though your leaving caused me pain,<br> We can perhaps begin again.<br> For you are never truly gone,<br> There's always more where that came from.</p> <p>© <em>Frances Pallett</em></p> <p>Aah, poetry for the soul!</p> <p>If only eating chocolate was as calorie-free as writing about it! <img src="/img/smilies/icon_smile.gif" alt=":)" class="middle" border="0"> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/07/15/time_for_a_little_indulgence~2638407/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>indulgencewritingpoetrychocolatehttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/07/15/time_for_a_little_indulgence~2638407/#commentshttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/07/15/sunday_s_quotation_a_thought_for_the_day~2638018/tag:worditright.blog.co.uk,2007-07-15:/2007/07/15/sunday_s_quotation_a_thought_for_the_day~2638018/Sun, 15 Jul 2007 11:58:48 +0200 <p>“To-day we love what to-morrow we hate; to-day we seek what to-morrow we shun; to-day we desire what to-morrow we fear.”</p> <p>Daniel Defoe, <u>Robinson Crusoe</u> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/07/15/sunday_s_quotation_a_thought_for_the_day~2638018/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>robinson-crusoequotationthoughtdaniel-defoesundayhttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/07/15/sunday_s_quotation_a_thought_for_the_day~2638018/#commentshttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/07/14/wake_up_wake_up_for_morning_is_here~2632250/tag:worditright.blog.co.uk,2007-07-14:/2007/07/14/wake_up_wake_up_for_morning_is_here~2632250/Sat, 14 Jul 2007 08:47:27 +0200 <p>Saturday morning poetry for the not-yet-with-it:</p> <p><strong>Wake up!</strong></p> <p>Saturday morning arrives with a bang<br> As the door crashes open and there the kids stand.<br> Wide eyed and bedraggled, not yet sugar-hyped,<br> They swarm round the bedroom, arms taking a swipe<br> At anything that moves and things that do not,<br> Including the babe asleep in her cot<br> and Daddy, snoring, blissfully unaware<br> Of the imminent state of domestic warfare...</p> <p>...then, with eyes still two slits on my still-sleeping face,<br> I slip under the covers and await the embrace<br> Of six arms and legs (two of which are mine)<br> And I'll know, then, to get up, cos it's breakfast time.</p> <p>© <em>Frances Pallett</em> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/07/14/wake_up_wake_up_for_morning_is_here~2632250/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>saturdaypoetrymorningwake-uphttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/07/14/wake_up_wake_up_for_morning_is_here~2632250/#commentshttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/07/13/why_do_we_work~2628315/tag:worditright.blog.co.uk,2007-07-13:/2007/07/13/why_do_we_work~2628315/Fri, 13 Jul 2007 14:16:55 +0200 <p>It's that Friday feeling again. The weekend is so close you can almost smell the beer and take-away curry and you are 'clock-watching' every few minutes just so you can convince yourself that 5pm (or whatever time you can wrench yourself away from work) is getting nearer.</p> <p>Here's a socio-comical (I think I may have invented a new word here!) insight into the life of a Paris Plongeur (a hotel dogsbody), which might just make you glad you have the job you hate:</p> <p>"I think I should start by saying that a <em>plongeur</em> is one of the slaves of the modern world....His work is servile and without art; he is paid just enough to keep him alive; his only holiday is the sack. He is cut off from marriage, or, if he marries, his wife must work too. Except by a lucky chance, he has no escape from this life, save into prison...[Plongeurs] have simply been trapped by a routine which makes thought impossible. If <em>plongeurs</em> thought at all, they would long ago have formed a union and gone on strike for better treatment. But they do not think, because they have no leisure for it; their life has made slaves of them."</p> <p>Taken from George Orwell's <em>Down and Out in Paris and London</em>, 1933.</p> <p>Anyone wishing to convert from their nice, 9-5 office job to plongeur-dom should contact Washers-Up Anonymous or the No-Prospects Recruitment Agency for further advice and counselling.</p> <p>Well, in reading this you have just got yourself 3 minutes closer to the weekend <img src="/img/smilies/icon_wink.gif" alt=";)" class="middle" border="0"> </p> <p>....(and in writing this I am eleven minutes closer to drowning my creativity in a large bottle of real ale) </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/07/13/why_do_we_work~2628315/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>george-orwellweekendfridaywritingworkhttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/07/13/why_do_we_work~2628315/#commentshttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/07/12/anyone_fancy_a_game~2621504/tag:worditright.blog.co.uk,2007-07-12:/2007/07/12/anyone_fancy_a_game~2621504/Thu, 12 Jul 2007 13:35:50 +0200 <p>To all the after-school runners, the dinner-time football stars, the Sunday league has-beens and the armchair athletes, I give you this....</p> <p><strong>The Game</strong></p> <p>There's a fire that burns inside me, a deep rooted desire<br> Giving me the strength I need to see it through.<br> Inspired by the embarrassment defeat may deal,<br> I breathe passion. Passion is my fire.<br> Adrenaline gushes through each vein, pulsating<br> Like a disease consuming me whole.<br> Blood boils as I sense the challenge loom.<br> I see nothing but myself, nothing but my fight.<br> All else seems trivial, all that matters is this.<br> My mind foresees the end, anticipated glory.<br> Fighting 'til my head pounds, my legs ache,<br> Only victory can take these pains away.<br> Bruised and battered and blighted,<br> I bear the scars of a beaten man, yet<br> I have not lost until the final whistle is blown<br> And I am overcome by ruin.<br> My eyes cease to focus. Sight dominated<br> By the diminishing supremacy each mistake brings.<br> I want to run but my legs have given in<br> And I resign, my part played and lost.<br> Returning to the room from which I came,<br> The passage losers and winners alike take.<br> I smile at those who succeeded, they<br> Beam glory, whilst I wallow in decline.</p> <p>© <em>Frances Pallett</em></p> <p> <small> <a href="http://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/07/12/anyone_fancy_a_game~2621504/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>poetrygamethe-gamesportsports-poetryathletesfootballhttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/07/12/anyone_fancy_a_game~2621504/#commentshttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/07/11/and_now_the_daylight_is_gone_a_poem_to_s~2617604/tag:worditright.blog.co.uk,2007-07-11:/2007/07/11/and_now_the_daylight_is_gone_a_poem_to_s~2617604/Wed, 11 Jul 2007 20:35:17 +0200 <p><strong>Night Night</strong></p> <p>Night night,<br> Sleep tight.<br> Keep your woes<br> Til daylight.</p> <p>Night night,<br> All's right.<br> Shut your eyes<br> Til daylight</p> <p>Night night,<br> Stay bright.<br> Save a smile<br> Til daylight.</p> <p>Night night,<br> Less light.<br> Dream of me<br> Til daylight.</p> <p>Night night,<br> Sleep tight.<br> Keep my kiss<br> Til daylight.</p> <p>© <em>Frances Pallett</em></p> <p>A little corny I know, but it's all I could come up with in the three minutes before I head to bed to immerse myself in a good book. (note to self: might work as a lullaby for hyperactive toddler)</p> <p>Sweet dreams all</p> <p>x x </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/07/11/and_now_the_daylight_is_gone_a_poem_to_s~2617604/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>bookdreamslullabysleeppoetryhttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/07/11/and_now_the_daylight_is_gone_a_poem_to_s~2617604/#commentshttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/07/11/only_in_sleep_poem~2615643/tag:worditright.blog.co.uk,2007-07-11:/2007/07/11/only_in_sleep_poem~2615643/Wed, 11 Jul 2007 15:35:18 +0200 <p>Yes I know it's only 3.30pm on a Wednesday afternoon but I feel as though it is much later and much darker than it should be and I have been busy <a href="http://www.worditright.co.uk">writing</a> all day, so why not indulge in a little nighttime poetry?</p> <p><strong>Only in Sleep</strong></p> <p>When darkness drapes the glare of day,<br> Inviting nightly imps to play.<br> The dying man drinks to his health;<br> Rises above the sterile bed<br> And toasts the organs that have bled<br> His now forsaken wealth.</p> <p>When darkness drapes the glare of day,<br> Drawing dejected eyes away.<br> The prisoner hails his release;<br> Dissolves the iron bars of might<br> And blends into the black of night<br> Where freedom will ne'er cease.</p> <p>When darkness drapes the glare of day,<br> When structured thoughts begin to stray,<br> The waif stirs in his mother's arms;<br> Snuggles into the breast that bore<br> His tiny self some years before<br> And shields himself from harm.</p> <p>When darkness drapes the glare of day<br> And tired converts kneel to pray.<br> The poor man loafs in profusion;<br> Strokes each note to befriend its worth,<br> Beholds the token cost of mirth<br> And tears it in confusion.</p> <p>When darkness drapes the glare of day,<br> When dawn crusaders lose their way.<br> A realm of promise is unfurled,<br> A decent and forgiving world.<br> A legacy we would like to keep<br> But can only visit when we sleep.</p> <p>© <em>Frances Pallett</em> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/07/11/only_in_sleep_poem~2615643/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>writingsleepnighttime-poetrypoetryhttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/07/11/only_in_sleep_poem~2615643/#commentshttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/07/11/where_is_summer~2614133/tag:worditright.blog.co.uk,2007-07-11:/2007/07/11/where_is_summer~2614133/Wed, 11 Jul 2007 11:08:05 +0200 <p><strong>Where is Summer?</strong></p> <p>Where is summer, did we miss it in June?<br> Was Summer a day that rose with the moon<br> And set with the sun when the morrow was come?</p> <p>Did I blink and miss the blistering heat,<br> A beach full of sand underneath naked feet<br> Which burns at noon but soothes at night?</p> <p>Where is summer, will July bring its sun<br> Or will we still be searching when August is come<br> And winter's upon on before we know when?</p> <p>Where is summer, for September is near<br> Long days will grow shorter 'til Christmas is here<br> And we'll sit in hope for the following year,</p> <p>Where is summer?</p> <p>© <em>Frances Pallett</em> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/07/11/where_is_summer~2614133/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>poetrysummer-poetrysummerhttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/07/11/where_is_summer~2614133/#commentshttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/07/10/useful_sites_for_copywriters_like_me~2608763/tag:worditright.blog.co.uk,2007-07-10:/2007/07/10/useful_sites_for_copywriters_like_me~2608763/Tue, 10 Jul 2007 13:51:13 +0200 <p>I've come across some useful sites for freelance copywriters this morning and whilst I haven't had chance to look at them in any depth - heavy workload at the moment - they do appear to contain some useful articles, links and advice.</p> <p>If you are an aspiring copywriter, semi-professional copywriter or just someone with a responsibility for writing something, check these out:</p> <p><a href="http://www.copywriting.co.uk/index.php">All Copywriters Now</a> - has some useful forums as well.</p> <p><a href="http://www.freelanceuk.com/copywriters/index.shtml">Freelance UK</a> - for media, creative, writing and PR.</p> <p>No doubt I will find myself, in several months time, referring back to this post to find these but if anyone checks them out in depth and would like to share their views on how worthy they are, please let me know <img src="/img/smilies/icon_wink.gif" alt=";)" class="middle" border="0"> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/07/10/useful_sites_for_copywriters_like_me~2608763/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>freelance-copywriterscopywriterscopywritingwritinghttp://worditright.blog.co.uk/2007/07/10/useful_sites_for_copywriters_like_me~2608763/#comments