Posted in Writing

Writing Growth

Your growth as a writer is important. After all, the better you get, the better your story/poem will be. When that happens, your reader response goes up. You also want to please others with your writing and getting better at it will accomplish that. Below are some ways to advance your writing skilks:

  • Write Everyday: You might not feel like writing everyday, but if you write something…anything for just 5 to 10 minutes, it’s still something. Oftentimes, that 5 to 10 minutes turns out to be longer without you realizing it. What writing everyday is doing is getting you into a habit. Great! That’s what you want.
  • Use Writing Prompts: These are particularly useful when you don’t know what to write about. Plus, if you don’t feel like writing, it’s a great way to get you writing something. Keep in mind, 1 prompt can be used for a number of different stories/poems. The internet is full of writing promt list. Just type that into Google Search
  • Get Feedback: I know, no one likes to be told they need improvement. We all enjoy hearing how good we are. BUT…hearing how you can improve will raise you to that next level.
  • Read from the Best: Read works from some of the best authors you enjoy reading. Do not copy them, but learn from their stylistic choices. Then use what you learn to improve YOUR style.
  • Take Classes/Courses: Talk about beneficial. This is an opportunity for you to ask questions and sharpen your skills as a writer in a more in depth manner.
  • Read Books about Writing: There are so many books out there on the subject of writing. Whether you are writing fiction, non-fiction, or poetry, you can find books on the different aspects that go into each. From story structure to learning how to incorporate emotions into your characters. These books will help you. Some of them even have exercises so you can practice.

Have fun with your writing growth journey. I promise you it will be a great adventure in and of itself.

Posted in Poetry

The Brink by L. M. Montes

I saunter to a jagged edge
to watch the sun go down
behind the ocean’s salty bed.
As the sky dims to ebony,
the ivory stars blink
their eyes and watch
me from the vast
expanse of the heavens.

The heavy mists
which evening brings
lifts upward to envelop
and imprison me
as night befalls.

I cannot see
the craggy edge
that looms so far below—-
the mist has cupped its
hands on my eyes,
so the cliff I would not view.

Panic grabs my fearful head,
I cannot move,
for if I do,
I topple till I’m dead.

Posted in Poetry

The Past by L. M. Montes

Looming—-
in the shadows of time,
skeletons of a haunted past,
like Satan’s fury—-
they test and tease,
taunting and afflicting until he’s pleased.
This plaguing past that will not die,
shall eat me from way down inside,
it travels—-
flamed obsession—-
My head it whirls and twirls about,
it stalks my smitten soul,
I try to rid these tentacles of time,
but still it slithers—-
there it lurks—-
a staring stranger,
forcing, reaching, grabbing, glaring—-

I’d like to think the past is gone,
but still—-
it shall remain taboo,
always there,
can never undo.

Posted in Poetry

Angels in the Mist by L. M. Montes

Your love is my strength,
It gives me warmth,
When I touch you,
Your love sings to me.

When I close my eyes,
You are there,
When I dream of you,
Your presence fills my heart.

But now you are gone,
The Lord has taken you away,
Your spirit and your love,
Are angels in the mist.

Long ago you stepped into my world,
You fed my mind,
And held me tight,
Throughout our years of gold.

So when the wind blows,
Your love floats back to me,
I cherish all you are,
Like flowers in the Spring.

Posted in Poetry

Evening’s Light to Darkness by L. M. Montes

With slowness I walk,
a dimness so gray,
the air is a coolness,
that lasted all day.
Low hung the clouds,
the darkness reached down,
then sprung back and faded,
as the air moved around.
Lighter grew the evening,
and air warmed the soul,
and hung but just a moment,
’til evening turned to coal.

Posted in Poetry

Worry by L. M. Montes

I sat on the beach and counted grains of sand,
but then the wind took them
and they flew from my hand,
perhaps I should refrain,
from acting in disdain,
some things should not be counted
just enjoyed from day to day.

The little things that worry crawl and bite like ants,
but then a shoe stomped them
and they fell from my pants,
perhaps I should rely,
on Jesus not the lie,
because He is the only one
to help me when I cry.

By L. M. Montes

Posted in Poetry

To Choose by L. M. Montes

I stand before a hall with many gateways,
deciding which to choose grips hold my mind,
waiting to pounce life’s lioness awaits,
or could it be the love of one so kind.
Decisions rock on waves so vast and fraught,
just open one and peer inside to see,
so in I walk without thinking or thought,
’twas a lioness charging after me.
I spun to run the door it laughed and shut,
revealing darkness shadows playing and such,
a light beamed round a corner calling out,
so I followed but found the light of doubt.
perhaps if I had thought decisions through,
I would have gained a love so great and true.