Skeleton Architecture

Beneath the ground, within the diamond pressure of mountains, the wyrm had slept for so long that her body had considered stone. But she had not stayed all these years to shrug off her own precious flesh, sinew, and bone for mere minerals. She might wind around her sparkling stones, but she would not become them. Instead, once or twice upon a millennium she would stir, just slightly, her body undulating along its length as she stretched, muscles reminding themselves of their flesh. It was only a shift. Even that was enough, she knew, to split the earth itself. Once she had had sisters, and with the moving of their bodies, they had forged new continents. Once all the wyrms had roamed the surface, gorging on the creatures there, growing fat on other's flesh. She had grown the biggest of all her sisters. When the sleep came she and her sisters had coiled their way down, shifting the very plates of the earth to make their beds. For millennia she had felt her sisters shifting in thei...

Do you do any of those photo challenges on Instagram? I used to do it more than I do now, but I still take part in the So Good in Every Way  fortnightly themes (sometimes), and the Snap Happy Britmums daily prompts (again, sometimes). Todays prompt was words, and I was sitting in my kids' school this morning, waiting to help out with walking a bunch of kids to another school, and thinking about how the rhyme, 'sticks and stones' has changed as schools have become more cognicent of the long term damaging effects of verbal bullying. When I was a kid we taunted bullies that words would never hurt me. My own eating disorder, other self harming, and so much other stuff can testify to the nonsense of that. Now my kids are taught the rhyme 'Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can really hurt me.' and it's true. Physical violence is rubbish, but we should never underestimate the long term harm of verbal violence. Hence my poem today. It's almost a ...

Hello there! Today (21st March) is World Poetry Day. To be honest, I didn't know this until Vic Welton shared a poem on her blog earlier today ( here ). She got some glorious goodies from Viking, which I'm jealous of, but I too can write about the joy of poeming, even without fancy stuff (although Viking , if you're watching, I'd love some freebies 😉), so here is my poem about why I write poetry, and underneath that are some links to awesome poets you might like to check out. Why do I write poetry? For poetry makes words into silly-putty to bounce ideas around and mould to our meanings. For poetry is a way to speak my truth to beauty and in that, reflect your own. For poems are small, and sometimes tiny and can be crafted and smoothed, embellished and made just so, and they might even find a new home. For I read and listen to poetry and find I must join in: take your words and swallow them to set my own words free. Ⓒ Cara L McKee 21/3/17 As promised here are some...

That prompt from Sara at Mum Turned Mom, 'Embrace', has got my mind wandering down all sorts of rabbit holes, I shared one with you yesterday , and here's another, about the sort of embraces you probably shouldn't have ever had. Probably. One peculiar night when there was just us we drank the bar. I said  you could do  better than that whispering nothing who dangles your heart like a bored cat's toy. I said  you could have me and knew I'd gone too far to stay. I walked home on feet that wanted to return to you. Buried my fear of repurcussions in instant noodles and there you were! Swinging on the lampost, grinning through the window. I smuggled you in. Drunkenly fumbling in bouts of incompetence. You kissed me, said we could brave the storm if you could shelter in my heart. I offered shelter but you caught her sparkling thread and returned to whispers. Ⓒ Cara L McKee 28/2/17