Maydays: Poem – Free Verse – Erin Hanson – “People Are Not Poetry” #Maydays



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Thank you to K.L Caley of new2writing for hosting #Maydays prompts. Today’s prompt is about loving your flaws. 

I’m going to cheat a little today. There is this poet, whose poems I often find on Pinterest. She is talented and writes wonderful poems about loving your flaws and being satisfied with who you are. I hope you enjoy this piece by E.H. or Erin Hanson. 

To follow Erin on Instagram go into the link. 

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http://www.littlewishingstar.wordpress.com

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http://www.pinterest.com

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

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Writing 101: Day 3 – Secrets


Prompt: Secret – one word prompt.

Why do people have trouble keeping secrets I wonder? We all have some, big or little secrets. My Mom would always say when I was younger things like: “Amanda needs to go to Kingsway” then to me ” don’t tell your Dad I went shopping.” Or she would tell me to hide the evidence of fast food when we would bring it home every once in awhile before my Dad came home. Those were tiny secrets between us.

My Dad still does this too. He will say to my Grandma, “Amanda is tired and needs to go home now” when we visit. What he means was that he wanted to go home because he was tired. I’d roll my eyes at this secret.

When I was in University two of my best friends liked the same guy, we’ll call him James. One of them started going out with James and the other would talk all about him. I hated being in the middle of this drama. It wasn’t fair to me or my other two best friends and finally the friend going out with James told the girl who liked him. She was mad at me especially because we had been friends since high school. But I was close friends with the other girl too, so I didn’t think it was fair of her to be mad at me and not my other two friends. For awhile the friend who only liked James wouldn’t talk to me. But once the friend who was dating James became engaged to him, my friend who liked James realized her error. Funny enough, the friend who became engaged to James didn’t end up marrying him. It was such a big secret at the time, this drama I felt trapped by; but now I don’t think it’s as big as I thought it was. But to tell you the truth I’m not as close of friends with the friend from high school, but the friend who didn’t marry the guy she was engaged to, is still a close friend.

Secrets are such funny things. We feel so desperate to keep them at the time, then realize it wasn’t so bad to have that secret told whether they are large or small secrets. But then there are things you never tell, no matter how long it’s been. I never told my Mom how much I actually drank when my parents had to pick me up from a pubcrawl. I said twelve high balls in two hours, it was more like eighteen high balls and half a bottle of root beer schnapps. But I was twenty-one and could handle the one day hangover. Today I’m not much of a drinker, just some wine on the weekend of a couple of drinks. But I still think my Mom would be horrified of the amount. I’m sure my Dad had more of an idea, but he never said a thing. 

Secrets are strange. They can be really funny, when you wondered how can your friend like such and such a guy, what does she see? Or, that the person you were seeing and broke up with, your friends never liked. Or secrets of self-sabotage, you can see someone messing their life up the same way over and over again. But you can’t really say anything, because you don’t want to hurt their feelings. I’ve had experience with that. Sometimes you have to let people make their mistakes until they realize what they are doing. Telling them the truth can end friendships or at least add distance to them. 

I have a few secrets, but I don’t like to tell, too many people have opinions. And like I said, those can be dangerous. 

Writing 101: Day 1 – I Write Because…


Prompt: Why do you write? This is a question you can answer again and again, as your response might evolve over time. You may have already addressed it in a previous blog post. Some bloggers also use this question, and variations of it, to shape their bios and About pages. Why am I here? Who am I? Why do I blog?
Sorry, I’m a bit late starting Writing 101, but here is Day 1.

Writing is as breathing. It happens without me being fully aware of it. An idea strikes across my mind, something is triggered. And I go onto my blog and I write. I often write a poem. I think for me that is my most free writing of all. But I like writing about picture or word prompts. I enjoy it when I am prompted by some experience I am having in life, or an idea I read about in the paper or on the Internet, or what I see on the news. I am prompted by other writers and their exquisite pieces or blogs. 

I love that in writing you are always learning. Learning to make connections to your audience, to reach out to them on a subject. I love what you perceive from their responses to your writing, and I love how with time one’s writing improves. I have learnt when to cut my writing to a couple hundred words or less in flash fiction. Often, this is difficult because you have to make every word you write mean what you want it to mean. I have learnt to “show” not “tell” my reader what is going on. I still struggle with that. I have learnt to be descriptive, to widen my vocabulary. And I just love to play with words as if they were puzzle pieces you are desperately trying to make fit into a puzzle. Words are also like chess pieces and only you know how to move your pieces to reach your final masterpiece and take the King. 

Writing is living, it’s a way to see a situation clearly. It’s a method of purging myself of sorrow or frustration. It reminds me of times past when I read over it again. It inspires me to try out things in life because with writing you need experiences to talk about it. Writing has allowed me to meet people all around the world. Writing is how I make it through the day and what keeps me up at night. Writing is truly breathing. If you want to know what’s in my heart, see what I wrote, it’s more apparent then my spoken words. I am the fire, and the written word fuels me.