My blog for creative writing and for solo gaming with dice
I’ve written another poem inspired by one of the images from Kevin’s No Theme Thursday (04/04/24).
You admire me with smiles
when on the stage I sing.
But do you know the sorrow
from which some of my songs spring?
Image from thebeginningatlast9.com
On her writing blog Reena Saxena has provided the word ‘transition’ as the word prompt for this week.
I’ve been feeling a bit down lately, partly because I’ve acquired type 2 diabetes, with its symptoms of weariness and blurred vision, and partly because I’ve given up smoking a vape and turned to Nicotine Replacement Therapy in the form of a mouth spray.
On the 14th of March, with a blood glucose level of 20.0, I was admitted to a hospital emergency ward where I spent several hours. That was a new experience at least, reading the poetry of Edgar Allan Poe in between blood tests. I’ve been taking insulin and avoiding sugary food and drink, and my blood glucose levels are slowly declining. As you can see in the photo below they are now at a seven day average of 14.1. I’ll be seeing a dietitian later this month and the aim is to get my blood glucose level down to 7.0.
I’ve written a poem in free verse about being a diabetic and a former smoker.
I’m in a transitional phase
From smoking a vape to nicotine sprays
A quit smoking aid
From healthy to diabetic and weary
Not seeing clearly
Vision now bleary
Tired with diabetes mellitus
I find my writing arduous
And all things an encumbrance
I’ll do some cleaning
To give a wasted day some meaning
I’ll stop writing now.
![{"capture_mode":"AutoModule","faces":[]}](https://dansgamingblog.files.wordpress.com/2024/04/a-transitional-phase.jpg?w=656)
On Sammi Cox’s writing blog the weekend writing challenge is to write a poem or a piece of prose in exactly 37 words, using the word ‘temperature.’ I’ve written a poem in free verse.
I remember the end of a cleaning shift.
I was pleased to have done a good job.
Nature turned down the temperature,
With a night of cooling rain,
Glistening on street trees.
Better than any air conditioner.
This is a poem inspired by one of the images from Kevin’s No Theme Thursday (03/21/24).
In her still, grey hall she waits alone.
She has lost her realm, her healthy lustre.
Her skin is pale like ashen stone.
She sighs, and finds she cannot muster
the heart to sing with her winged friends.
Pale petals fall upon the floor.
She thinks that callous Death intends
to make her wait before his door.
Image from thebeginningatlast9.com
Inspired by another beautiful image from Kevin’s No Theme Thursday (03/07/24), I’ve written a haiku.
The pine-scented wind
Does not stir icy water
But still the sun glows.
Image from thebeginningatlast9.com
On his writing blog Kevin provides a set of images and invites writers to write a poem or a short story based on one or more of the images. In response to Kevin’s No Theme Thursday (02/22/24), I’ve written a short story which includes my second attempt at writing a haiku.
Image from thebeginningatlast9.com
Continue reading “Lady Mura Ithorma”On her writing blog Reena Saxena has provided the word ‘change’ as the word prompt for this week. In response I’ve written two vignettes about two individuals’ views of social and technological change.
One hex = six miles
Happy New Year readers! Here is the final instalment of Freblun’s adventures in the Temple of Madathak, although it is not the end of this solo Exemplars & Eidolons campaign. I’m now going to focus on my creative writing and will return to Freblun’s adventures sometime in 2024.
In the previous adventure the warrior Freblun, having returned the four captive youths to the hamlet of Drothorn, used King Othtar’s Shield, which functions as a magical teleportation device, to return to the Temple of Madathak. He came to the underground chamber of Dratharg, the high priest of Madathak. Freblun found that he Dratharg was keeping the two women from Urkothan, who had been slaves of the cultist Kulsev, in his chamber. Another of his prisoners was Naran, the beautiful daughter of the sorceress Evendra of Bluestone Tower. Dratharg told Freblun that he also had Medron, a man from Bruld who accompanied Freblun on his previous adventure, kept prisoner to be sacrificed to Madathak.
After fighting and slaying Dratharg, Freblun set Medron free and told him to guard Naran while he used King Othtar’s Shield to return the two women from Urkothan to their home. Freblun and the two women appeared on Urkothan, the moon, near Arzek’s Rock which is sacred to Droithara tribe of Urkothan. The two women came from the Droithara tribe and were named Altheela and Teshana. They left Freblun to return to their village in Thonoom, the forest of giant mushrooms that grows near Arzek’s Rock. Before they could reach Thonoom, Altheela was attacked and killed by a grodgath, a huge lizard-like monster. Freblun killed the grodgath, and handed King Othtar’s Shield to Teshana so that she could use its power to return the two of them, along with Altheela’s corpse, to her village of Tholzon.
In Tholzon, a village of stone cottages, Freblun gave Altheela’s corpse to the chief. Teshana went with some other women of the Droithara to tend to the corpse in a mortuary hut. Freblun was approached by Dabentha, a woman whom he had rescued from the cultists’ banqueting hall in the Temple of Madathak in an earlier adventure. Noticing his loneliness, she took him back to her hut to treat his wounds and provide him with a night of pleasure.
Freblun is a sixth level warrior with eight Facts and six Gifts.
Continue reading “The Temple of Madathak – The Dungeon: Part Ten”
On Sammi Cox’s writing blog the weekend writing prompt is to write a poem or a piece of prose in exactly 67 words, using the word “rhythm” or any variation of that word. I’ve written a prose poem inspired by the Turkish Romani (Gypsy) belly dancer Didem Kinali. As I explained in my previous short story Aneta the Cleaner, the Roma or Romani people come from India. The Turkish style of belly dancing is heavily influenced by Romani female dancing, which in turn is related to the dancing of the women of the Kalbelia people of India, who are musicians, dancers, and snake charmers. Didem Kinali performs a belly dance that is very similar to the snake dance of the Kalbelia women, which is based on the swaying movements of the cobra. I’ve drawn an illustration to go with the poem.
In Istanbul she dances, spinning swiftly to the rhythm of the snake dance, the dance of her ancestors of distant India. In a dark room of pillars she dances, not beneath the desert sun of Rajasthan. But it is the same dance of beauty, of swiftly moving curves, of the Kalbelia women of far away India. The movements of a cobra in the body of a woman.
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