Try the following prompt and see if it can't help get your mind all abuzz with fresh ideas for a story or poem:
You are walking along the beach carrying a bouquet of forget-me-nots. Why? What beach is this? Were the flowers a gift? Or are they a gift for someone else? Leave it in the comments or keep it to yourself, just as long as you write SOMETHING down!
xoxo,
Raquel Ivelisse
1 comment:
It is clear to everyone's sight, that I am your birthright.
So transform me into the ocean, having the same type of clout, for which the beach is empty without.
Oh how I crave the wave of a warm breeze from your lash!
For you are my get away.
In the day you plant new perspectives, that flower at night into a bouquet of incentives to give you more.
How was I to know you were so insecure?
Alas, I am only the moon which has fallen asleep on a bed of sand, and woke to bask in the glow of your sun.
By Daryl Dorsey
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