Posts Tagged ‘writing’

Verbal Feast

August 1, 2014

Whisk in some words
Sift in some syntax
Simmer some simile
Stir in a soupcon of sass
Mix in some metaphor
Render some rhyme
Knead in some nouns
Add adverbs and adjectives
Marinate with meaning
Parboil with plot
Garnish with grammar
Drizzle with description
Serve page-side at once.

By Kerry Ellen, 2014


Results from six word memoirs prompt:

May 7, 2009

These were fun – hope you enjoy!

By Kerry – Kezza – Cordelia – © – 2009 –

  • Loathe acronyms but must pay bills!
  • Lonely child hurts, heals, helps others.
  • Many wrong turns finding my way.
  • She writes – creates – transforms – art heals!
  • Yes, healing is a lifelong process.
  • Fused in fire, annealed in hope.
  • Were Pen’s pupil, finding my voice.
  • Kerry Ellen, Glass Artist: Surprised Sheila!
  • “Good onya, Kez!” – Believe in yourself!
  • Soul Food Café – Global Sisters Salon


October 13, 2008

   I am haunted by stories that want to be told, that want me to tell them, that want to be heard, that want a writer to help them have their say. 


   I am haunted by characters that want me to describe them, observe them, record them, show, not tell, how they lived and why they made the choices they did and give a glimpse of what they might have been.


   I am haunted by words that dance just out of sight.  I know just the right word, but it won’t come when I need it.  Three hours later, there it is, grinning and hopping in plain view.


   I am haunted by plots that might work, if only I could figure out the missing pieces, plots that imply they are plausible, but they lie, they lie!


   I am haunted by endings – it could be this, or that, or something else – but what SHOULD it be?  “Let the characters tell you” – but they suddenly join a mime troupe and leave en masse.  Pesky protagonists!


   I am haunted by peer reviewers who cried “trite, trod ground, showing, not telling” and my own fear of failure.


   I am haunted by authors and teachers and readers and by the muse herself.  I want to please. 


   Like a child resisting going to sleep, I beg, “Just one more story…”



By Kerry Vincent © 2008

A writer’s manifesto

September 2, 2008

Why didn’t I ever see it before? Writing is all about connections – with myself, with others, with past, present, & future – connections with characters, how they interact, connections with plots, how events impact other events, how situations affect us, how we respond emotionally…


I write to speak to scream to whisper to shout to teach to learn to tell to show to try to give to share to parade to deepen to unfurl to open up to look within and see what is is.

I connect with the verbs & parts of speech with what I know, what I’ve learned what I still want to learn –

And where would writing be without readers? That’s a connection too – writers write for readers and readers encourage the writers to keep going….

I write because I can

I write because I have to get it out

Or I want to show you something

I write to create order of chaos

I write to explode safely on paper

I write to practice my talent my gift my duty my journey

I write because oh why the hell not?

I write because teachers encouraged me

I write to make people laugh or smile or forget their troubles for awhile

I write to get closer to God

I write because I wish I lived by the sea and I don’t so I just imagine the beach so I can smell the sea again and almost feel the warm sun on my shoulders and see the glint of silica in the sand

I write because I can’t experience things I want to – not enough time or money or opportunities –

I write because I can’t help writing

I write because I love the process

I love creating it keeps the blues away

or better yet it lets me face my blues and tell them which way to go –

I write because it heals

I write because it empowers me

I write to transform my pain

I write to keep from going crazy

I write to save myself from boredom

I write to please teachers and readers and myself

I write to play with words, my little friends
I write because stories help me make sense of the world

I write because what I produce often surprises me

I write to answer questions I didn’t know I was asking

I write and I keep writing whether anyone else ever reads my work

Because when I quit writing once before

It felt like my soul had been raped,

Profoundly robbed of something so very precious.


By Kerry Vincent © 2008


May 21, 2008

Laurel Crowns are awarded to Soul Food Community members who make art and writing a daily practice and regularly publish and support the creative endeavours of others at the Pythian Games.


— Last week I was awarded a Laurel Crown – I was so thrilled – because the honor came from peers I cherish and respect — click the link to learn more:

(deep curtsey)


The Dark Muse

March 15, 2008
(Inspired by Soul Food Cafe prompt to give thanks to a creative ally)
He fears the blank wall but he must face it.  The pen burns his hand but he cannot let go.  The words are ghosts that haunt his body and his mind.  He does not want to see them, but there they are, a cold presence, that must be released to find peace.
She watches him.  She will not let him go.  He must face his fate, dree his weird.  He has things to say, things he does not know, that he will not know until he says them, until he writes them on the wall of his soul.
He is naked.  He can hide from himself no longer.  His way is lonely, but he must go on.
He nurses at the dragon’s teat.  He sucks the danger, spits the poison,  sacrifices himself to save his people. 
No one knows of his silent suffering,
but a few others chained to the Muse.
It is the way of the artist,
the salvation of creativity’s soul.

Wild Vine

March 8, 2008


I wrap myself around art

like a wild vine wrapping around a garden stake.

it supports me, lifts me from the dirt, shows me the sun,

provides order in a chaotic world.

Art whispers, “So much is possible!”

I belong in this victory garden;

it’s where I grow.

(Kerry Vincent Copyright 2008)

Hedgehog’s Starry Night

February 17, 2008
The little hedgehog sat at his kitchen table and wrote his Aunt Mercedes a letter. He told her how white the moon had shone last night, and how there were so many stars sprinkled in the skies, and how he stood there in the cold night air (shivering just a little), and wished she could be beside him to share his wonder.Somehow, just writing to his Aunt about the night sky made him feel that he had shared the beauty with her, even though they lived many burrows apart.

“That must be what this writing is all about!” he thought. “All this scribbling is more than just my pen scratching the paper – it’s magic! I can make someone feel like she’s right beside me, sharing something special, and it even makes me feel closer to her, although she lives far away. Why, words are wonderful! You can play with them all you like, and it doesn’t even cost you a penny!”

Hedgehog smiled to himself, folded the letter, sealed it in an envelope, and hummed all the way to the nearest mailbox. He opened the flap and slid the letter down the slot, saying, “Here you go, Aunt Mercedes, a lot of love and a little magic is on its way to you!” The door slammed shut with a staisfying bang.

“Writing is such fun – I should do it more often,” he thought, and whistled as he waddled all the way home.