In the Grasp Of the Scythe

Poem about death

Today’s writing exercise: Writing what comes.

Reading all the news reports about the deadly terror attacks in Paris, my heart was heavy and my fingers twitchy. Twitchy to empty myself of the weight in my head and swelling in my chest. Not sure if what came out makes sense; there is no specific rhyming pattern or meter, but it was what my heart wanted to say. Continue reading

Advertisements