Original Poetry: The Dancing Hands of Time


A picture of an antique silver-colored pocketwatch on a black background. The face is creamy white. The numbers are black and larger than you might expect. The watch has a sweep second hand at the bottom and the circle of that small dial actually cuts off part of the "5" and "7". The face of the watch says  "Molnija" centered below the 12 with "Made in USSR" along the bottom. The time is 5 minutes until 9, and 40 seconds. The watch has a silver-colored chain but the clasp appears to be either tarnished or made of a metal similar to brass. Photo taken from: https://pixabay.com/photos/pocket-watch-time-antique-clock-6060604/?fbclid=IwAR0Gvn2xsORgFAsBzsNYe8dJdopL9djr4cWzS9Xqg5DqAAadcMnj3690YqQ

An old watch keeps time in my pocket.

Does it show the time of the day?

Or spin away the remaining hours of a lifetime?


With numbers big and bold,

And hands covering the face of old

I take out my treasure

And watch as the hours spin away.


The second hand dances around the watch face,

As the minutes crawl on by

I’m hypnotized by the circular motion

As I watch the hours fly into the abyss

And the days of my life spin away


Original Poetry: Snow Drifters

As I sit out on my front porch,
Surrounded by the autumn wind
I think about the coming snow
In far away cities and towns
Where winter will soon begin.

I picture a small cottage
With a family seated by the kitchen fire.
As travelers drift along
To find their heart’s desire
I See these weary drifters
Walking through the snow
Following the distant light
Leading to the hillside cottage,
With a warm fire all aglow.

What brings these weary Travelers
Out in the winter wind
Are they on a mission
Where will the journey end?

Will they make it through the bitter cold
Or find shelter for the night?
Will they follow the beaten path
Or turn toward the fire light?

Let’s pray they make it safely home
In the blinding snow
Let the firelight Lead them
Where ever they must go.

Inspirational photo to get the creative juices flowing
pen and paper

The following exercise was inspired by this poem, which I wrote out on my front porch, yesterday afternoon. Listen to the windchimes in the podcast episode linked below or listen to the nature sounds around you and write a story, poem or essay about your favorite season. Feel free to email your pieces to annwrites75@gmail.com. If you decide to post your pieces on your blog, be sure to link back to this post, so my readers and I can share them.
Link to my podcast episode:


#amwriting, podcasting

A writing prompt and a Story to share

Today I went shopping with my parents and I heard this random comment at Wal-Mart. The comment was something about umbrellas and chairs.
Listen to the most recent episode of my podcast: writing prompt, umbrellas and chairs https://anchor.fm/inspirational-journeys/episodes/writing-prompt–umbrellas-and-chairs-e3ruop

to hear the story behind this prompt

#amwriting, Uncategorized

Writing prompt: Bleed Ink

Hello everyone,

Tonight I have a challenge for you. Before I give you the writing prompt, let me explain how I became inspired to publish a post like this.


I was listening to The Jen Lowry Writes podcast last night, and Dr. Jennifer Ikner Lowry gave us listeners the following challenge: She said that she was talking to her students about her love of The Hobbit, when one of her students told her that she must bleed ink. Pardon the paraphrase, Jen. That compliment prompted her to challenge us to write a poem, short story, blog post or whatever strikes our fancy on the topic of bleeding ink.


On the heels of this challenge, I’d like to pose a few questions for you to consider. Do we writers mentally bleed ink? What if we physically bled ink instead of blood? Would our wounds turn into words on the page, or do our mental wounds do that on a daily or every other day or so basis?


My answers to these questions are as follows:

prompt photo

If we physically bled ink, I don’t think writing would be any easier for us. If we bled ink, we’d have ink stains instead of words wherever we bled. However, I do believe that as writers, some of us mentally bleed ink, because there are those writers who use pen and paper to write down their thoughts, while there are those of us who mentally bleed words onto a computer screen as ideas form into our heads. On the other hand, the printers that writers and/or publishers use to transfer the written words from the computer or mobile device onto the physical page, are the tools that actually bleed the ink.


Now, it’s your turn to take on this writing prompt. You can either answer my questions on your own blog or in the comments below, or you can take the words “bleeding ink” and turn them into a poem, essay or story of your own and share your creative piece on your blog. No matter what challenge you choose to undertake, please share your response in the comments, or leave a pingback to this post in your original blog post.


Until next time, I hope you have a lot of fun with this prompt. Happy writing and God bless you.


A memorable garment from my high school days

Hello everyone,
First of all, I want to apologize for not posting in a while. With all my professional work and trying to find a freelance writing job in the past few weeks, I have been out of the loop. One more thing that kept me from posting, was the fact that I have had two bouts with Celulitis, one of which put me in the hospital for a few days. But, enough of that, I’m back in full swing now, and I have a special post for you today.
Today’s topic is a memorable article of clothing. To answer the first question from a writing prompt I received via email from my writers group, The memorable garment was a formal dress that I wore for my first Valentine’s dance, when I was in either eighth or ninth grade. It was made of a taffeta-like material, and I wore a puffy crinoline underneath. I don’t remember what color it was, but I do know I liked it.
My mother got this dress for me at one of the dress shops in Cordele, GA back then, but I don’t remember the name of the store. Back in those days, I didn’t pay attention to store names, because some of them have gone out of business by now, and you can’t get fancy dresses like that at WalMart, so you have to go to a women’s clothinging store like Kayto, or Goodie’s.
I don’t remember any conflict that was associated with it, but I do remember my mother balking at the price, because it was $75, I believe. All I know was the note from the school said that I had to have a formal dress. I may not be answering the questions in the prompt in order, but this is kind of the order of things as I remember them.
This dress wasn’t associated with one person in particular that I remember, I just associated it with the dance itself and how much fun I had that evening.
To answer the final question, I have no idea what my mother did with that dress after I wore it that night, she may have even put it in my cedar chest.
Let me ask you the questions that inspired this post. Feel free to leave your answers in the comments below, or create your own memorable post.

1. What did the garment look like?
2. Where did you get it?
3. Who or what was it associated with?
4. Do you remember some sort of conflict you encountered while wearing the garment, or that was associated with it?
5 Where is the garment today?

Happy reading, blogging, and have a blessed day.


A Writing Challenge

The reason behind the challenge

Hello fellow bloggers, writers, and readers, I want to do something out of the ordinary. I found this writing prompt when I was looking for inspiration for a short story several years ago. I don’t remember the website, but for this challenge, I’m going to get a little creative, so just note that the inspiration for this challenge was someone else’s, but the idea for this challenge is my own.

The challenge

Write a short story, essay, or poem using the words “your mother/my mother,” etc. It could be a story centered around Mother’s day, an essay about a fond memory you have of your mother, or it could be about someone else’s mother, the choice is yours. Here’s the fun part: see what you can come up with in fifteen minutes. If you plan on taking on the challenge and writing it in a blog post, use the tag writing challenge so I can see what you come up with. You can also write your piece in the comments below. However, If you view this on tumblr, use the tag #writing challenge, if you want to use this writing challenge for inspiration. Happy writing, and God bless.


A letter to writers block

Here’s a little something fun for all us writers. I found this particular writing prompt on a link that Nikki Woods tweeted. I am wide awake, and I gthought I would tell dear old writers block what I think about it getting in my way when I want to write. After reading my letter to writers block, why don’t you share your own letter. Ok, here’s my own creation. 

Dear writers block,

Hello there my unwanted friend, you and I need to have a serious heart to heart talk. You know how you always like to hang around when I want to write, and you disappear when I want to get some much needed sleep, like now? Well, I’m demanding thet you put a stop to this right now!
I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, (well, maybe I do) but it’s for the sake of writing. Why not come around when I want to sleep, and leave me alone during the day when I want to write. That’s the time I need you to disappear like yasterday’s garbage. I mean, you keep me from writing when I need to write, and you go away when I want to read, talk to my friends, or sleep. So do me a favor, and let me write, when I want to, not on your schedule.Ok?
not so respectfully,

A writing challenge

Hello everyone,

One of my twitter followers prsented a writing challenge on her blog, and I was inspired to pass it on to you. Using the words Crash, Baboom, and snow, please come up with a brief bit of free writing. You don’t have to worry about grammmar spelling, and punctuation, just write for ten minutes using these three words. I’ll start  us off.

The wind blows as snow swirles around a small two-room cabin in the woods. A young woman stands at the kitchen window waching the snow fly, when she hears a crash coming from somewhere off in the distance. “What was that?” she asks herself as she bundlrs up into her warmest clothing to step outside into the wind and snow. As she steps outside, a tree falls on top of her little cabin with a baboom!

I know that I haven’t written for exactly ten minutes, but you get the idea. Now it’s your turn. You have ten minutes. Ready? Set? Go!