Skeleton Architecture

Sara at Mum Turned Mom is ending The Prompt. I know. I'm gutted too. But you know, all good things and all that, so here I am taking part in the last one, because I missed the first. This tanka is inspired by Sara's prompt - ENOUGH - and by a conversation about endings and beginnings I had recently. Perhaps for every ending there isn't a beginning, but there is space. That space can hurt sometimes, but it is a space for possibilities. I think. I might be wrong. Endings can hurt so much that it's difficult to notice the space, sometimes the space is covered in rubble, and it can take a long time to slowly, gently, clear it away. I know Sara will find things to grow in the space The Prompt leaves, and I hope her ideas enjoy their space to bloom. the last one!

This is inspired by a prompt from Sara at Mum Turned Mom. One that I almost missed, so it's appearing out of order - sorry! The prompt was - PURPOSE - which made me think of all the things we use for something other than what they were made for and what a joyful thing that can be.

It has been ages since I've joined in with Sara at Mum Turned Mom's regular Prompt. It's on my list, but my list has got out of hand lately, so I was delighted when I got a reminder from Sara in the form of her very own tanka, go check it out here . Her theme this time was 'CAPTURE', and this is what I came up with: I'm joining in with The Prompt. If you're quick you can join in too!

This week's Prompt at Mum Turned Mom (link below) is perfection .  I start my Rose book (which I'm going to do an overhaul on, because I think I'm working out why no one wants to publish it) with a consideration of perfection, which is of course, unattainable, although a near miss is pretty good. We will keep aiming for it though, and beating ourselves up for not achieving it. It's a word that seems to get talked about a lot, particularly when considering beauty, and makeup. I am a big fan of makeup. I love black eyeliner, especially teamed with a smokey eye and minimalistic lipstick. I have been known to paint trees on the side of my face, and that's all good. I love watching people do makeup. I follow Illamasqua and Jonysios on Instagram, and they are both awesome feeds, with totally unnatural, brilliant looks. I love it when it's unnatural. I mean, if you're going to put colours on your face why not go wild and have fun? The thing that creeps me out...

Today I'm linking up with The Prompt over on Mum Turned Mom by Sara, with this poem about whispers. I promise, there are no bodies. Although it's been close a few times over this Easter holidays, with people taking it in turn to be ill, so we've hardly done anything and are all stir crazy! It's my turn now, and I'm feeling better this morning, so hopefully we are done and ready to eat all of the chocolate. Whispers Words whispered in ears light up eyes with the sweet warmth of secrecy but wait:      in whose ear will these words be whispered? Because a whisper winds itself along its way becoming something new. Ears pass to eyes, to lips, to the world and are not, as you know, for real secrets. Real secrets will be whispered to the wind,        to the weeping willow,                        to the West. Words on bodies must be whispered to the bees. Will the whispered wor...

I don't seem to be achieving much at the moment. I'm trying to write a synopsis for the Rose book, and in doing that I'm losing confidence in the story (which is me, not the story). My youngest stressed me out by tumbling all the way down the stairs and hitting her head (she seems fine if sore), and my middlest child is out of sorts, which is constantly worrying me. I am finishing up with very little useful brain.  Anyway, I saw that Sara at Mum Turned Mom  had suggested the prompt 'High' this week, and it reminded me of the song of the same name by New Model Army , which considers how irrelevant all our concerns are when seen from the top of a hill. There are lots of other songs with a similar feel, but I like New Model Army, so I headed to the top of my local hill to see and hear what I could see, singing to myself another one of my favourites by them - I Love the World .  I've ended up with a poem inspired by I Love the World (for the structure), and...

Sara at Mum Turned Mom has chosen the word 'potential' as her latest prompt. To be honest, I was stuck there for a while, but then I was thinking about gravitational potential energy and Wile E Coyote, and I came up with this poem, which I've also done a reading of on Facebook live ( click here for that ): The Potential This poem, poised on the precipice has potential to kill you dead. To whistle its way down to a million-mile-away valley floor landing in its own mini-mushroom puff. But it won't. You'll just beep, and run on by or maybe pause for a moment wondering why it's poised just so, was it put there on purpose? Or has its context  been whittled and abridged away? Perhaps you see my design in balancing this poem here with all its potential. Pause a while longer,  and you'll see yourself in it. Ⓒ Cara L McKee 27/4/17

Last summer we gave our neighbours a gift and swapped homes for a little while with a lovely family who lived in Barcelona. They had a great time exploring Scotland and getting to know our neighbours while we enjoyed being hot in Barcelona. It was incredibly hot, there was a reason the Barcelonians wanted to escape to Scotland, but we enjoyed making friends with their kitten and chilling out in their gorgeous home in the day time, going out in the evening when the heat was more tolerable to explore gorgeous Barcelona. Things we loved most were:  Seeing La Sagrada Familia - we didn't go inside because the kids didn't want to, but there's a great play park behind it where we watched parrots fly and admired the building. Shopping around Las Ramblas - so much fun and lots of silly little shops. The area has a reputation for pickpockets but we were fine with our purses tucked away. The CosmoCaixa museum - this was a fantastic visit, we adored the museum which had so...

I gave a workshop yesterday about poetry, about inspiration and communication. I talked about being part of this thing here in the wonderful world of online wherein different people can come together to write their responses to a prompt (I use the prompts set by Sara at Mum Turned Mom) and encourage each other, inspire each other, big each other up. I love it.  After the workshop I realised I hadn't found anything for the latest prompt yet. This morning I sat down and thought about crashes, about women being told they're a car crash waiting to happen, about my beautiful friend with her dangerous decisions, which I must admit I resented. But I was there anyway. This poem is for her. Crash You turn, twirling and I hold on to your petticoats, layers of tulle rendering you the only woman worth seeing. You spin, darling, dancing, all eyes on you and when you crash down  in some strangers room it is I who will guard you, who will barter over bodies. I carr...

Happy New Year! I hope you've had a great Christmas and New Year. We did, although it was a bit quiet. The last week of the holidays dragged, mainly because I got a stinking horrible cold on January 1st, which is making me feel totally rotten. Ugh. Anyway, things are going pretty well on the writing front. I had two poems out last month, and I also got shortlisted for the Great British Write Off, which was totally unexpected, and kinda lovely. I've also had lots of things rejected, and failed to get placed in my local writing group's competition. I worked really hard on that poem and I'm annoyed with myself for not doing better, I'm trying to tell myself it's all subjective, but the usual suspects got placed again. Maybe it's just not my audience. I am slightly gutted that Maddy at Writing Bubble is going to be too busy to run the What I'm Writing Linky this year, but so glad that she's got lots of interesting things on. However, Sara at Mum T...

This is a poem I wrote in response to The Prompt from Sara at Mum Turned Mom . I first wrote it thinking of the current situation in British politics, but in the darkness of the terrible event in Manchester recently it also speaks to that situation. I am so sorry for all those who lost loved ones, who were hurt, who were terrorised by the bomb that went off in Manchester.  I am also sorry for all of our young men and women whose fears are targetted by groups like ISIS.  There is always an increase in racism and in anti-immigrant feeling after an event such as this, whipped up by those who wish to keep the people divided and voting for those that would keep the rich rich and the poor in 'their place'. We all get caught up in things, and it is always important to question our thoughts, as well as what we're told.  We do not have to stay on this road to division and hatred. We can stop, help each other, just as the people of Manchester came together to help each o...

Hello! I'm joining in with The Prompt for my poem today, using the theme of 'glass'. I wrote this over coffee at Costa in Largs, watching the world go by and pondering over how many people watch the world go by through a Costa window (other cafes are also available), and how the things they see vary depending on where they are. I tried to highlight the things which exemplify Largs for me. But I'm also cognisant that spaces that seem the same are different for different people, so even if you've been to Largs you might not recognise mine. Through the glass Through the glass while the sun shines brightly I see Ina driving her daughter who leans on her window, watching the ferry unload a bin lorry, peculiarly clean with its cargo. Through the glass while the sun is bright I see a little girl with ginger hair and teal hairband, hands shoved firmly in the pockets of her dark green woollen coat. Despite the cold she wants Gerald...

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

Did I mention that I'm a massive fan of George RR Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire and of Game of Thrones? I spend far too long listening to long podcasts about the History of Westeros (honestly, it's fascinating). Anyhow, the lovely Sara at Mum Turned Mom's writing prompt for this week was SNOW , so there was only one thing on my mind. I am very much aware that as well as writing this about Jon Snow, I've written the Edge of Doom inspired by a photo of Kit Harrington who plays Jon in Game of Thrones, so I'd like to take a moment to stress that I am not interested in Jon that way . He's so very young, and so very näive. If anything I'd just want to look after the boy and maybe make him a nice warm bowl of soup. If I was shipping myself with anyone in Game of Thrones then I think that despite his myriad flaws I might be looking at Petyr Baelish, because you'd want to be on his good side! Mind you, I'm probably best off out of it.  You kno...

Hello! I'm down in the dumps at the moment. It's February and the rain is falling. Everything is cold and dull and wet, and staying in has ceased to be all hygge and lovely and become incredibly tedious. Not that we're staying in all the time, but I long for days of warm sun and lunch outside, of not constantly cleaning up muddy kitten prints (although they're doing great outside and having fun, which is good). My Mum is moving house today, which is brilliant for her, as her old house was too big and needed too much work. It's fine for me as well, but I'm rolling about in memories today, of all the things that happened in that house, all my memories, all the memories shared with others who aren't in my life now. It's weird to think that I won't ring that pull-bell again. It's weird to think that I won't need the memory of which steps creak. I'm busy doing lots of writing at the moment. Bitty stuff of poems to go with a photograph...