Writing Prompt
Writings
Writings
VISUAL PROMPT
You sit down at your cozy desk to try to push through writer's block, but the only inspiration you have is your cat...
Writings
They say nothing is like being curled up with a good book
But what curls up in such a distinct manner?
A fluffy, furry friend that judges your grammar
Can cats read?
No, of course not! That’s absurd!
Perhaps it’s just a coincidence that a book lies curled in a calico’s fur
Her eyes scan the pages
But just out of flickering interest
It’s nothing unbelievable no one else has witnessed
Oh, but her...
I’m sitting here and all of a sudden have writer's block. It seems that writing is not my strongest skill, but one I am interested in continuing and my biggest critic is sitting at my desk staring at me with what looks like an expression that could have so many meanings. His name is Mitttens. It's all I could think of, because when my hands were cold in the winter, all I had was a pair of mittens,...
Now, from reading this story's title, you are probably thinking… is this man a drunk? Well, I guess you could call me that. I’ve finished my 3rd glass, and things are starting to feel a bit wonky. Wavy. Maybe wavy is a better word. The funny thing is, though, my cat also has the same name as this title. And now you probably think you are sure of it. “He must be a drunk,” is that what you're thinki...
** When we’re trying to improve,**
**by siting in our rooms.**
**staring at our decorations,**
**since we don’t know what to do. **
**We look out and stare at nature **
**saying “wow**
**my world’s a treasure.”**
**for a second our minds rest,**
**while we’re trying process. **
**one more thought is all we need.**
**“maybe i’m not good enough?”**
**Then we turn and see a cat,**
**At a window, so r...
As the candlelight glows
So do your amber eyes
Golden like the sun
With dark flecks full like the moon
When winter comes
No flowers bloom
As you sit on my desk, purring aloud
My hand flowed through your fur,
soft as velvet night
Here I read another Psalm
Silence, like the crickets at night
Not worried about
The whispers in town
Making their judgements
Leaping abound
What a wonderful compan...
Inky fluffs –
white clothing despair –
bringers of bad luck
to those with superstitions.
O’ Hallow’s Eve mascot,
arched and hissing –
364 other days
of cuddly void piles.
Paint my wardrobe
with wayward fur,
your tiny, blush tongue
and bright, shining eyes,
the only cracks in your
sable armour.
Emissary of night,
rumble box of love,
sleep away the day.
Arise at d...
The window is closed and yet it flickers. With every overwhelming wave of frustration a sigh escapes and the flame, flick, flick, flickers. A yawn escapes me, my eye lids feel of lead and they begin to drop, slow and heavy. But I must not falter, it is my destiny that I finish what must be done here. But the flame, those ever present sighs, the way the flame dances against the air, seductive, enti...
For a while, my cat has been getting more action than me. She’s housebound at the moment, a result of this action, so we’ve been spending a lot of time together. I watch her everyday and she slinks around the house, a stealth yet angry movement. Her midnight fur often glistens in the afternoon sun, the shadow of her pregnant stomach reflected on the floorboards. Other cats have come to call for he...
I smooth out the notebook paper on my desk and begin to write, only, I can’t. Sitting there, I push my pencil on the desk, waiting for inspiration, but my mind is blank, like a big, black void that ate my thoughts up. I grab a cup of coffee from the kitchen and trot back to my spot at the desk, when I see a fluffy, white intruder. Smiling, I pat Snow on the head and lift her up onto the desk. “Got...
I sit at my desk looking for something to write about. I think of all the things I've seen today that could be a story.
A kid in a puddle? Naw. A truck that splashes mud on a teenagers car, and his reaction? I shake my head. I look about the room. I can see the crowds walking past through my window. I could write about what I imagine that tall, gentlemanly old man’s story must be or the frustr...