Category Archives: The Dark and The Ugly

Poems from the dark and dusty corner of my imagination.

An Apology

The Dark and The Ugly 3 Comments

It’s been a hectic couple of weeks, and my mind hasn’t been in the right place to write.

A family member has been very poorly in hospital and I would rather focus all my attention on that at the moment than writing.

I received some very kind words from Wendell A Brown and I can not thank you enough for you helping me smile in a dark time.

I apologise to the wonderfully talented C.P Singleton42 for being unable to finish my Alphabet Zoo, and completing his A-Z Challenge with him. I promise to read your challenge between hospital visits and wallowing in self pity. Hehe.

I will be taking part in Aprils Big A-Z challenge as I already have some notes, scribbles and a plan. I am looking forward to it, but for now I shall be taking an indefinite break.

Hasta luego
amydot

Lost

The Dark and The Ugly, The Stories of the Northlands 1 Comment

I seem so far away,
That my head’s been torn apart,
My mind has gone miles today,
I’ve misplaced my tired heart.

My eyes see thoughts and thinkings,
And the world becomes a blur,
Far in an unknown distance,
I feel not me or ‘her’.

I’ve left behind my muchness,
Or sealed it in a box,
Behind my face of toughness,
Im broken and I’m lost.

The Fears

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I recently read a post where the blogger decided to share their fears. I liked this, because my brain decides that I have loads.

Since being little I have suffered from night terrors, In other words I scream in my sleep. At what? Well anything, the thing is when I wake up in fits of panic I have no or very little idea of what I am scared of. But of those I do remember, I have been frightened of a Polaroid camera that was sat on a shelf, a boat, spiders and Dracula. In fact usually they are totally irrational.

But like everyone I have some fears in ‘real life’ too…

Heights – Been trying to conquer this for a while now, by trying things like abseiling the Tyne Bridge and climbing York Minster. Climbing to the top of York minster led to a mild panic attack whilst on all fours, refusing to stand up. I was talked through it by a guy with a very strong german accent. He pointed to a rickety wooden ladder up the side of the building and said “at least you don’t have to climb that ladder”, helping me up and onto the next lot of stairs, to an amazing view…. Wouldn’t do it again.
It hasn’t done me any favours, my boyfriend recently went up to the Skydeck in Melbourne, Australia, and I got the willies from even the photos. He is certain he’ll get me to go up there, but I’m rather certain I won’t.

Masks – Ok I admit, this one is irrational. I blame horror movies, proving that anyone in a mask is going to murder you and chop you up with a butchers knife. Kabuki masks are by far the worst, it’s the whole emotionless or blank expression that unnerves me. Even opening the door to five year olds on Halloween is a challenge.

Woodlice – yea those horrible grey scuttling creatures. Spiders, although not being their biggest fan, I can do the whole pop a glass over and throw them outside, but Woodlice are a different story. I have once been confined to the bathroom for an hour and a half till my brother searched the whole of the house to get rid of it!

Am I dramatic? Absolutely. But I blame my mother, and the almighty freak-outs when a butterfly comes near her.

So do you have any fears?

Inspiration: World’s Hide and Seek Champion

The Dark and The Ugly 6 Comments

I feel recently I have lost the talent for writing that I once had, rhyming was my first language at one point and I oozed creativity. Now I feel I am struggling and lost and way out my depths.

Research and writing has begun for Aprils big A-Z challenge, giving myself plenty of time to prepare, I feel 2 months is no way enough time for a whole alphabet. Warming up with Alphabet zoo I kinda feel back at school, writing a poem for an English project and throwing words together and hoping they’ll just ‘do’. But really I’ve lost all the love and excitement I once got from writing.

When I first started the blog, my first post was Javisnail, something so silly it was about a snail that travelled the world. But still when I read it back, I get a little buzz from some of the verses and even chuckle at myself. I miss that.

My best work was all around the same time, I could write a poem on a walk with my dog, while speaking with friends, an idea would just pop to mind, but I don’t have that feeling anymore and I’m desperately trying to find where its hiding, but it appears that inspiration is the hide and seek champion.

A great deal of inspiration came from a friend of mine, my creativity bounced off his and his quirky conversation always made my mind think in a different and humorous way, which is always a great ingredient for a poem. Being native Spanish, his curiosity in English was always hot topic, and it made me think alot more about our language.

It’s such a sad thing when you make such a good friend, they change how you think about things, and makes such an impression on you, yet one day, out of the blue, you’ve grown apart. And now there’s not even a hello.

Although I found my poetic side when I met him, I know I’ll find it again, I’m not ready to give up on writing, it will just take alot more practice.

The Dark and The Ugly 1 Comment

Found some inspiration! 🙂

Author, C A Middleton

As this is my the first poem of my NEW book, The A to Z of a Wandering Mind ©2013 CpSingleton I  should reblog it.

I may also reblog one or two more. That doesn’t mean you should let languish in the vaults of Kindle. GO GRAB A COPY!!

ant

A is for Ants.

Ants are the coolest insect,

Much cooler than the fly.

Unless they sting your rear, that is,

Or march off with your pie.

They’re not hairy freak-a-zooids like

The spider in the loo,

Who waits for hours on end

To scare the living be-jeepers out of you!

And they don’t roll bits of pooh,

Like the filthy Dung-Beetle does.

Or flap their wings to make a terrible noise

Like the moth or bee or wasp’s buzz

They don’t graze on their family or

Puke on to their food.

They kindly work together and

Are mostly never rude.

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La Criatura de los Muertos

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With battered bones and broken teeth,
There dwells a creature they call the creep.
Whose eyes are blind and slits of red,
But do not rest within his head,
For In his palms, so quite sly,
Here you find this beings eye.
And in it’s fingers long and thin,
He searches on the waves of wind.

Of nothing more than skin and bones,
With arms so slightly over-grown,
Resting upon a tabled feast
A heavy breath escapes the beast.
Til a grape is stole and placed,
To her lips for just a taste,
The creep he rises off his seat,
For warned she was not to eat.

She runs on down a narrow hall,
And draws a square upon the wall,
As she pushes with all her might,
He comes on closer into her sight.
With a limp he shuffles near,
She drops her chalk in clumsy fear.

She pulls a chair and draws again,
Above her head a doorframe.
With a push it opens wide,
She stumbles and begins to climb,
’til she is up out the floor,
And left the creature behind the door.