Category Archives: Sonnet

Apr11

TALES OF TALE SPINNING

Posted on April 11, 2021 by Stu

TALES OF TALE SPINNING

The A to Z Epics, More or Less

I started Tale Spinning at the beginning of 2011 as an offshoot of BornStoryteller. The latter went more towards non-fiction, rants, comparisons, and observations. Tale Spinning: an experiment in creative writing was the space I needed.
Since then, I’ve gone through periods of both non-stop writing and those “dry” spells, where nothing inspired or motivated me.

Joining the A to Z Blogging Challenge in April 2011 was one of the smartest moves I’ve ever made. I’ve pushed my own boundaries over the ten years, always looking for that “challenge.” Taking risks is stimulating. A lot of what I write is expressing what is burning within me at the moment.

Which is probably why I have trouble continuing plunging into the worlds and characters I’ve built over the years. The roller-coaster upheaval of my life during these last ten years have jaggedly flowed from euphoric to complete and utter numbness. This isn’t a pity party. Just stating the facts, ma’am.

Many bloggers/writers I have “met along the way have become family. What is “Family is Chosen” for $2,000, Alex?” (Man, I miss Alex Trebek. Right now, I am Team Levar Burton to become the new host. Reading Jeopardy Rainbow!). It’d take me the rest of the day (it’s early here) to point you all out, but my thanks and love are hereby sent. I even met the woman I love writing these blog posts during that first A to Z. Present tense, even though we are not together anymore.

Shit happens.

Anyways.

List Time. In case, you know, want to read past (and present) A to Z attempts. Each set starts with A on April 1st of that year. There might be a few preceding posts/teases over the years as I tried out the new voice I was shooting for.

A TO Z POSTS

2021: Liquid Time (Current Series)
2020: Nightmares from an Unbleached Soul (Lyrical Poetry, 25 posts)
2019: A Car In the Woods (Science Fiction/Horror/Thriller, 27 posts)
2018: The Abysmal Dollhouse (Serial Paranormal/Horror story, 26 posts)
2016: Case Files of Inspector Khazarian Rovas (Serial Detective story, 26)
2014: Road Signs (Drabbles-100 words Exactly, 26)
2012: The Apartment Building: Swan Rise (Serial drama, 26)
2011: The Lesser of Two Evils (attempted SciFi satire, 23 posts)

Here’s something not A to Z that I’d love to get your feedback/comments. I keep getting drawn back to it on an emotional/mental level, but have not added a thing to it in quite a while. These were written during the summer of 2011.

The Kitsune-Mochi and Fox Saga

Apr4

Who Do You Write For? Some AtoZ biz

Posted on April 4, 2021 by Stu

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WHO DO YOU WRITE FOR?

SOME A TO Z BIZ

LIQUID TIME

In case you did not notice, I am taking a huge leap/risk in style, content, and formatting with LIQUID TIME. So, who am I writing for? Just for myself? Just for the audience? 50/50?

Most times it is for myself, to see how far I can stretch, hone my skills. How, on later rereads, does it hold up way past the due date of the emotions that pummeled me while writing. I take risks. Not every one of them pans out. Some lead me to different approaches, different research, different observations of life.

On the readers hand(s), I do do my crafting for the reader(s) as well. I look for commentary, what pleases, what doesn’t, the whys behind either stance one takes. Suggestions are taken in the (hopefully) intention’s delivery, as a “have you thought about…?” or “Would you consider…”; a way that I construe as just that: a suggestion from another’s POV.

Suggestions, for me to think about, to possibly add to, delete, or turn things around. They are given to support, encourage, and give the author a different POV lens to consider.

I do not take demands into consideration. Nor the comments that essentially read “If I was the author…” or “You should not…” Well, you aren’t the author, that’s in my hands. As to the “should not…?” Really? Really?

“No” hasn’t a place here in Tale Spinning. My cranky two cents, plus inflation.

LINKS LINKS LINKS

Liquid Time Postings

2021 Theme Reveal

Liquid Time: A Portent

ABSOLUTE 31,536,000

BACKWARDS

CONTINUANCE

A to Z Main Link & Blogs to Follow

Blogging from A to Z April Challenge 2021

TOSSING IT OUT

THE MULTICOLORED DIARY

BLOG OF J LENNI DORNER

THE SOUND OF ONE HAND TYPING

THE GREAT RAVEN

SASCHA DARLINGTON’S MICROCOSM

BREWING COFFEE, TWISTING WORDS & BREAKING PENCILS

ATHERTON’S MAGIC VAPOUR

THE CURRY APPLE ORCHARD

WEEKENDS IN MAINE

Iian KELLY-FICTION WRITING

KEITH’S RAMBLINGS

THE OLD SHELTER

I will post more blog links I follow later in the week. Please visit & leave them a comment

Thanks, All.

Feb8

Too Often: a Villanelle

Posted on February 8, 2021 by Stu

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Too Often, by S. Nager

Walk away. Walk away. Alone. Apart

Be dismissed, discarded, a second thought.

Now hide every piece of your broken heart

Love fractures, splits, by an uncaring dart

Shattered pieces, a broken soul is taut

Walk away. Walk away. Alone. Apart.

With love’s ending comes a yearn to depart

Disregarded love that never was sought

Now hide every piece of your broken heart

Each time, within your grasp, a fresh new start

Drifted, drifted, gone, even though you fought

Walk away. Walk away. Alone. Apart.

What was conceived more emotion not smart

Gave of yourself love could not be caught

Now hide every piece of your broken heart

Dreams of fidelity, hopes to restart

All dashed and ignored from a life so fraught,

Walk away. Walk away. Alone. Apart.

Now hide every piece of your broken heart

***************************************************************************

Author’s Note:

I used the poetic form of a Villanelle for the above poem. This is my first attempt as this was new, to me. Dylan Thomas’s “Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night” is a prime example of this poetic style. It is a 19 line poem with 5 Tercets (3 lines) that follow an ABA rhyme pattern, and one Quatrain (4 lines) to end the poem. Its rhyme pattern is ABAA. The last two lines of the Quatrain are the Refrain (which I crafted first) and they are used in the 2nd to 5th Tercet, intermittently. Thomas use of the 10 syllables per line harks to Elizabethan/Shakespearian Sonnets.

This was a bit challenging at first. I’m glad I tried it. I’ll probably do more, as I did with Sonnets over the years.

Remember: comments are always welcome.

Nov3

Sonnet: When The Time Is Right

Posted on November 3, 2020 by Stu

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“There comes a time when people get tired of being pushed out of the glittering sunlight of life’s July and left standing amid the piercing chill of an alpine November. Martin Luther King, Jr.

OIP

Intimidation tactics are useless

Where the many are set upon as thieves

These are times punctuated through much stress

With hopes that all of our fears are relieved.

Hateful, scornful words meet extreme actions

Quiet shattered by jeers of discontent

The deep divide of opposing factions

It puts roadblocks in the way, we are rent

Yet, if the tide was to turn to the truth

The consequences in dire dispute

Thoughts and prayers may not be the needed sooth

To mend what has been sundered by refute

What impending years that we will pass through

Steps can be taken for our lawful due

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☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

This was a blog challenge: Simply 6 Minutes from Stine Writing

The rules for the challenge: Use today’s prompt (The MLKjr quote above)

Write for SIX Minutes. When your timer goes off, you are done.

Post on Stine Writing blog or on your own with a link on that blog’s site.

I did the above in under six minutes, where I had enough time to make sure there were ten syllables in each line.

I know; I shouldn’t edit, but, c’mon. It’s a sonnet. 🙂

Aug16

Take Love: Sonnet & Tanka

Posted on August 16, 2020 by Stu

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TAKE LOVE: Sonnet

Unfilled to the deepest depths, ardor fails
Pushing love away, Pulls love back again
Games you play, yet I come, no magic, stale
Enchant me with ardor not constant pain.
 
See a Bee searching for pollen to thrive
Deterred of flower's unopened petals
Across barren fields, darting to survive
Sharp blade edged, pierced deeply among nettles.

Yet, still, betrayed by the memories shared 
Raptured embraces, hands entwined, we run
Kisses, smiles, our bed, enticed feelings bared
Blind to the vanishing you, soon undone.

Stagnant, I, bereft of your caring grace
The Bee wanders, black void drops into place.

TAKE LOVE: Tanka

Disdain withers love,

No give, only take; heart speared

Putrefaction

Trampled flowers, compost tossed

Paths of dirt leading nowhere.

Aug7

HUZZAH!

Posted on August 7, 2020 by Stu

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Amanda-Palmer_Photo-By-Kahn-and-Selesnick_1

Amanda Palmer © Photo-By-Kahn-and-Selesnick_1

HUZZAH!

by Stuart H. Nager ©

What is unknown appears known; of this, I am uncertain. Perchance beguiled, for last I knew I was there but, alas, here I be. This path through trees lacks familiarity, copses gnarled but tidy. A hedge I found to assist my invisibility, a vantage point to confuse me further.

So many passed by, speaking in words yet understood. I scent of fresh hops filled the air, roasted meats, and the stale sweat produced by the heat of the day. This was familiar, but the rest? Skin hues, the variances of body types, the way they laughed, swore, or what I took as such, were a jumble only experienced in the largest of gathering towns and cities.

Swords! In the distance, a clang of swords. Blade upon blade, the shrieking of steel. Cheers, mirth, sad wails erupt from that direction. As one, what I glean to be a crowd, yells, “Huzzah. Huzzah. Huzzah!”

I am undone.

My feet lead me away from the hedge, into the ebullient throngs. My spirits lift somewhat, having spirited away a mug of foul ale. Yet, I quaff to a drop as the mug refills. Foul but fair, I merrily wander to explore my thoughts and this strange happenstance.

The lasses are comely; the lads as well. Their states of modesty thrown to the wind. Music is precise. I join in the dances encountered, elevating the pleasures of all who participate. Some of the cavorting was of my accord. More of the repellant beer made its way into my hands and down my gullet. I skip off to find what I shall find. A need for the small forest calls.

Ho! A pair of churlish ruffians. Drunk, their lazy attempts to lay hands upon a lass are buffeted away. Yet still, they take no heed. She, red-headed and fair, yells with no results for assistance. Ah, this language is beginning to open. Help she will have. Swifter than an arrow, I am beside her.

Drolly, I smite the louts with my sharpened wit, enough so that their desires for the pretty turn to anger towards myself. I lead them on a merry chase, up and down, forward and back, until the befuddled duo collapse into heaps. Thanking them for this escapade, I return to the lasses.

She of red hair awaited my return, mischief in her eyes that complimented my own. She takes my hand as we become unseen behind a large oak. Their language is becoming more explicit still.

“Huzzah!” fills the air throughout.

~ ~ ~ ~

Sunlight is fading, and I still find myself here. Megan of the red hair has left, alas, alas, alas, with friends dragging her away. She made a promise. Surprisingly, I gave one in return. Yet, the day has passed, more sweet beer drowning melancholy away.

Something has been pulling me throughout the day, drawing me further. Except for my Lord, I am nobody’s plaything. It was easy to turn this away with the ethereal emissions of the masses. Now, so few remain. This “Ren Faire,” as Megan related, closed down at true nightfall.

I give in to the call.

I have reached a series of small but fierce pavilions. Each draped with runes, gemstones, carvings, feathers, and lace, enveloped in candle glow. I walk down the lane, peering into each. Women, swathed in rich earth tones, turn their heads away as I come upon them. Except, this one ahead.

She is waiting for me, knowledge in her eyes.

I know her as well.

“Sprite,” she warbles, her withered countenance neither friend nor foe.

“Crone,” adding a shallow bow to her presence.

“Inside.” She hesitates. “Please.”

I follow. She deigns to sit on a wooden stool while I stand, examining her craft. The damask cloth covering her centerpiece table is of the highest quality, the colors swirling as they lay in place. I would say hypnotic, laying down such schemes myself.

“He was angry with you. Anger festered for a long while. The King almost commenced a Wild Hunt. My Mistress lured him to her bower. No Wild Hunt was issued. It was she who moved you here.”

**“I see,” thank you, My Queen, for this gift. “I still owe him my fealty.”**

“No, you do not. The King has withdrawn any compulsion over you. Residing as far away, and as long, as the Queen and King have, He has no need of you. Anymore.”

This news. I never wished for it. Yet, I surprise even myself at times.

I glowed inside. It felt. Good.

“What will you do now, Robin?

The question was an excellent one. For the first time, I feel befuddled.

“I do not” was left unfinished. There was a tap on the pavilion frame behind me. I turned.

A vision appears before me. Be still, my aching.

What a glorious smile. She holds out her hand. Our eyes meet. Our hands join as one. Megan leads me away from the pavilion.

I hear the crone: “Mistress, what fool this Puck be!”

Could she not stay quiet?

Her cackles followed us as we left the faire.

Together.

Huzzah!

! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

This week, Shut Up & Write offered their monthly five-day challenge with the Prompt Theme of

Through a Stranger’s Eyes

Each day’s prompt was to give your character’s POV through their very first time at a specific place, meeting another, etc. No length restrictions. Any style of writing. Any genre.

I took on the challenge, even with the growing number of projects that I am involved with. If you’d like to read the five in order:

August 3rd: First Impressions: Planet Earth a twinkling defense

August 4th: Holiday Study: Trick or Treat Samhain

August 5th: Extreme Sports Lemmings to Slaughter

August 6th: Modern Exercise Level

August 7th: Big Events: Ren Faire Huzzah! (above)

COMMENTS ARE ALWAYS WELCOME

Jun21

Sonnet: For

Posted on June 21, 2020 by Stu

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It suits you, the radiance that you glow

More comfortable in being alive

Overcoming hurdles released in rows

Each day will move surpassed helping you to grow.

Each year, every passing one you may dread

Detach those thoughts! Appreciate your self

For who you are; soul has been lifted, fed

Love blooms all around; take into thyself.

Yet, the mind does a terrible misdeed

Challenges of past can still rule your head

Doubt comes charging, inside the heart does bleed

Fighting inner wars, fears you may concede.

Gladly forward, face every single day

Strength you have always had will lead the way.

May28

Sonnet: With You

Posted on May 28, 2020 by Stu

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SONNET: WITH YOU

Sleeping woman

Sir Frederic Leighton Flaming, June 1895

My hope for you is restful sleep tonight
Your curls I moved; gazing upon beauty
My wish is for your dreams, wild with delight
Watching o’er your rest, my loving duty.

Curtains blow in; a cool summer night’s air
Eyes closed, lips pursed, a notion of a purr
Lying beside you, this comfort we share
I kiss at your neck’s nape; you barely stir

But, how would you sleep if I blew away?
No longer in your life, would nightmares sing?
Could emptiness consume; so love decay?
Tears would worry angels.  A bitter sting.

My heart is yours always; our love aligned
In sleep you take my hand, fingers entwined.

*************************************************************************************

What makes this a Sonnet?

I am using the traditional English pattern/Shakespeare’s sonnet sequencing. 14 lines. Three quatrains followed by a couplet. Ten syllables on each line. The rhyme scheme is abab cdcd efef gg. There are other variations: the first and second quatrain, joining the two into an eight-line stanza(the octave), in eight-syllable lines. The third quatrain and the couplet together are a sestet, with only six syllables used per line. I prefer the Shakespearean or Elizabethan style. The first two stanzas are the setup. The third stanza presents a possible conflict or hurdle to overcome. The couplet resolves the tone of the first two quatrains. Or they may not. A poet purist will see it only set up that way. Other “dabblers” have the artistic choice.

Just write.