Look, it wasn’t me.
Next door’s cat is a sly minx and has now done a runner, laughing her paws off.
Don’t they realise I have no idea how to open the bin, let alone get things out the wrapper?
Besides, I prefer toast………….. hot and slathered with butter, dripping down my chin and smacking against my lips. Mistress likes to share. Master is a different matter.
Yet they pointed the finger at me, told me I was a bad boy and sent me to the dog house.
It’s not fair. I only wanted a taste………… just a little taste…… as it smelt so heavenly just out of the oven and all…….
Now they’ve changed my name to Crusty.
*****For any participants that do NOT like restrictions, please feel free to participate in any way you would like. It is great to read the contributions!****
Set up a timer or sit near a clock so you can keep track of the six minutes you will be writing.
You can either use one of the prompts (photo or written) or you can free-write.
Get ready and write for 6 minutes, that is it! Can you write a complete story? Can you think of a new Sonnet? Can you write 400 words? 400? 500? There are no restrictions on what kind of writing you do, but you should try to be actively writing for six minutes.
After you are done writing, include your word count and then post back to this page #Simply6Minutes or include your link in the comments section. Pingbacks are enabled.
*Feel free to leave your work completely unedited. I believe it is good to see, especially for new writers, that even very seasoned writers don’t write a perfect first draft.*
Have fun, challenge yourself if you’d like, read and respond to others’ posts.
Funny, but I always considered myself growing up in the 80’s because that is what I remember when thinking back to being a kid. In actuality I grew up in the 70’s. I don’t know why I find this so weird or why I can’t get it straight in my mind. I think if I had to choose I would still have chosen to grow up in the 70’s. The 80’s were so…like…oh my God!…like…cliche…like….like, you know?
There is an old tale with a name I forgot that talks of the wind on a day when its hot about cream in a cup for a kitten brand new about a shimmering star or a home left askew It tells of the sin of a man left forlorn with a grin on his face waiting to be reborn so the conduct you see rises up across miles or uneasily close with the crying and smiles
I try to hear you but I can no longer listen my thoughts are askew my mind is amiss I stare but cannot see you I reach out but cannot feel you I breathe you in but cannot smell We are together yet so alone wasting away in each others presence waiting to say goodbye
As written here: It’s obvious that I am asking you to write a soliloquy, but I would like you to make an effort to include some clear examples of one or more poetic devices of your choosing in your self-talk
Oh, why did I think I could taste the sun to experience the lemon sweet and sour when the setting of the sun takes out the heat and leaves me hearing the tic tic as the sun slips below the horizon?
Come along with Ernie and listen to his story of strength, hope and discovery in a story so painful you want to reach in and offer your support and wisdom, hoping that there is a good ending to it all.
Ernie Liverman found strength in opening the doors of the past, reliving the pain through memories, of a horribly abusive childhood and the lonely life he had for so long. When you first start reading this story you want to scream out, “Why didn’t anyone help him?”. It is astonishing that a mother could inflict such pain on a child that she birthed but it did happen, and it was awful. Ernie’s bravery in telling the truth, telling the stories that were buried deep, has helped him lose some of the pain that had been trapped.
Throughout Ernie’s story you will continue to ask questions about his father and the lack of involvement, or his sister and what she may have endured. You may want to scream at Ernie to take some of the help that was offered to him, to tell him to go back and take that chance just to see what would happen. Obviously, going back cannot happen but by he has taken a chance by putting it all down on paper and freeing his mind. It has been therapeutic and has its own healing power.
I give this story five out of five stars for its honest synopsis Liverman presents without leading the reader toward a shocking halt. The horrors he speaks of are awful but the feeling of power and hope he emulates through each page of his story is full of light and ambition; a need to survive. This is a must read for anyone who has ever felt alone or mistreated, or for those who work with children that might need help reaching out, exposing the truth, and living a healthy and happy life.