CYOA – Complete Novel

CYOA, Writing

Dear Readers,

Finally, I have completed my CYOA (Choose Your Own Adventure) novel, with the last chapter’s and epilogue’s fates’ being decided by me instead of the readers. I have formatted the novel in word and converted it to a PDF for you to read. I recommend using this option for computer users.

As well as this, I have created the book formally using a software called Blurb Bookwright. The only free option was to download the book as an Ebook, with files available for Kindle / eReader and Apple iPad. You can find these below!

Saving Audrey – PDF file (for PC / laptop users)

EPUB3 file (.epub), viewable on Apple iPad® devices

KF8 file (.mobi), viewable on Kindle devices and reader apps.

Thanks for all your support and encouragement during the writing process of this book. Enjoy reading and reflection.

Olivia, expression through the lens (and words)…

P.S. See here for the category of “CYOA”.

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Chapter 6, PART 1- Reality is Real

CYOA, Homework, Writing

Note:  Thank you all for your comments and contribution to bringing this novella together (sort of!). I have thoroughly enjoyed writing Saving Audrey and have found it immensely beneficial as I was motivated to do something productive while on my computer (this can be hard sometimes!). Unfortunately / fortunately, this is my last formal chapter, however, in the next few days, I will be posting an epilogue to wrap up the story. 

The time restrictions have meant that the participants of the CYOA challenge have had to think and plan their stories thoroughly and improvise in terms of elaboration and an uncomplicated resolution. This story would have involved a lot more content without this time restriction, however, I will make do. I do apologise for the abundance of “things” left unexplained… I have left these for you to imagine.

Last week, we experienced the aftermath of Daphne’s death and Audrey seeking help and support on Facebook. Last week’s votes were:

  1. 1
  2. 5
  3. 2

The obvious winner is option b, which entails Audrey continuing her search for support and finding it, with her new friend (suffering a similar reality) taking her to the places where they find happiness and inspiration together. THIS IS PART 1 OF CHAPTER 6. So the readers don’t have too much to read, it will be split into two parts. Please read on…!

! Audrey, you have one new private message!

I hear my mouse produce a hollow click as I snap to the destination my computer is providing me. Controlling, manipulating, seeming to mock the pain I am drowning in. The pain I am aimlessly flailing in, panic and devastation dragging me under a surface of hope. The surface was unbroken, but as I obey Facebook’s command, the tension is broken, a new hope revealed.

dear NinjaGirl654 i saw your avatar on the “click for support” chatroom last night. So useless. i just wanted to tell you that if you need any support, don’t go to that useless bunch of ignorant morons. i checked out your profile, and am so very sorry about all that has happened. a rough couple of weeks, huh. you guys seemed so close. my mum died a month ago, from a bicycle crash. i miss her so much, she was my best and only friend… I know it’s a touchy topic for us both, but i just thought it might help us both if we maybe met up some time, perhaps have a coffee together? let me know what your thoughts are. i understand if you aren’t up to it though. ❤ J best wishes until we (maybe?) meet? p.s im not some weirdo creepy 60 year old dude…!! my name’s Juliette btw, im 14 and go to school at st john baptist college.

From UnlovedKittie

I brush away the tears with frustration, hope, appreciation for this girl who has offered to help me, to kindle a friendship with one another. I feel my lips form a strange shape, happy, as tear collides with them, my fingers placing themselves cautiously on the keyboard so as to reply.

Reply to Unloved Kittie:

You’ve made me smile for the first time in 3 weeks. since I heard her laugh, saw her smile… can we meet at the café on theron street. 11am tomorrow?

My fingers react prior to my mind. I watch as the page informs me that the message has been sent. Stupid. Really stupid decision. Instantly, the inky blue notification box appears on my screen.

Okay, awesome! Meet you there…

From UnlovedKittie

 

Part 2 will arrive soon! Do you think this is the right decision for Audrey to deal with her pain? Will it pay off, or is a disaster to come, a friend or an enemy? Find out in Part 2!

Olivia, expression through the lens (and words)…

Chapter 4 – Tears

CYOA, Writing

Note:  Thank you so much, all my readers for voting and commenting with such encouragement!  I am so sorry this chapter is post SO VERY late and the terrible excuse, however, I have been quite unwell the past week, and needed a break from brain exertion! The votes for last week are as follow:

  1. 6 votes
  2. 0 votes
  3. 6 votes

We have another draw!  Both options were popular with me as well. Option A was the option of which I planned to work with in the novel’s overview, again. However, option c seems to have a less dramatic or severe take, while still having an interesting effect on the story. Option A was the option where Daphne died because of the crash, with option C being Daphne suffered from amnesia.

I am so sorry to have to do this to my readers, but I have to choose option A! Let’s see where this takes us… If you would like to read about the car crash itself, please go to Chapter 2 – Oxygen!

“I see her. All day, every day. I see the pucker of her skin as she smiles. I see the way her eyes gleam with such iridescence, the colour of the sea on a beautiful day, you know? When she forgets all the rubbish she had to put up with and truly laughed.” The path of a single tear is imprinted into my cheek.

“I see her eyes inflame, burning red blood, dripping with the heavy duty mascara as she cries. She was so insistent on applying that mascara. Every morning. She said her lashes were thin, even though they were the most beautiful I had ever seen. They were…” Speaking in past tense creates an agonizing reality, and the pain in my heart intensifies. She was alive. She is dead. Gently, the wind whispers, mocking my grief.

My realization is interrupted by the voice of our new family counsellor, an “esteemed psychologist” who was recommended by the hospital.

“I understand.” She responds, the indifference etched onto her face providing no comfort. I feel my legs take me from the living room in rage. How could she understand? My sister, the person I loved the most in such a life of misery – gone.

Pain numbs my mind as I marvel at the metal entrapment that was my sister’s mini. Daphne. Gently, cautiously, my head rotates towards the wheel, tears gushing from my eyes,  causing my face to sting as the tiny droplets make contact with numerous wounds. Her face is peaceful as the red fluid dribbles into and from her mouth. Her eyes, typically fluctuating between 50 vivacious shades of green lie dull, lifeless and rolled to one side. Her chest barely flitters up. Down. Up. Down. Flat.

The last I saw of her, before her spirit rose to the heavens, free of the pain that haunted her for so long. The last time I saw her before the sirens came and took her away, shaking their heads as they discovered her pulse was non-existent, her deformed sister to discover that reality moments later… That was the last time I sat in the passenger seat of the Mini, as I watched her drive… as I watched her drift into oblivion. As I watched her die.

The tears do not come as I muster the courage to enter her room, the bed still unmade from Tuesday morning. I feel the mattress convulse beneath as I slump onto it, my crushed arm, encased by a dull black cast resting on her pillow. However, the tears will not come.

Daphne’s door creaks open as my parents enter, Mum’s face inflamed with grief and Dad with empty, shadowed bags outlining his eye contour. Not a word need be said. They simply lay on their dead daughter’s bed, her pungent, minty fragrance still lingering. I let them hug me, and for a wholesome 10 minutes, the tears come. For a wholesome 10 minutes, we cry our tear beds dry, until we cannot cry any more. We cry for her, for the life that she lived, and what she would have lived…

Sorry again it is so late! And that it is so depressing! I have some less depressing options for you to vote on! Only two options this week!

  1. Audrey receives a letter from her sister and she leaves home to find her sister, who is alive!
  2. This isn’t a fantasy story. Daphne is very, very much dead. Sorry. Audrey goes onto Facebook to console herself, and meets someone with a similar story. They make friends and this new person takes her on an inspirational journey after meeting where she discovers happiness and beauty in a world of such misery.

Olivia, expression through the lens (and words)…

 

Chapter 3 – Quinoa

CYOA, Writing

Note:  Thank you so much all my readers for voting and commenting with such encouragement!  The votes for last week are as follow:

  1. IIII votes
  2. 0 votes
  3. IIII votes

We have a draw!  I do agree with the voters that these are the most likely and relevant options for the current generation, a take I aim to portray. Option A was the option of which I planned to work with as seen in the novel’s overview.

However, option c seems to have an interesting and relevant take, portraying the character to have the typical attitude of a teenager suffering from FOMA (fear of missing out) and attending a party she was made aware of through Facebook, the consequence not worth the negligence in popularity. Since the vote was a tie, I decided to run with option one, however incorporate aspects of option 3! Enjoy!

*****

Anatashia Lockwood: Gurl watchu doin?

NinjaGirl: Sleepin. Sittin. Livin.

Anatashia Lockwood: Gurl. Ma gut is cryin! U got 1 sad life.

NinjaGirl: …thx “bestay”

Anatashia Lockwood: Imma gonna help u get. a. life. Nathan hostiin a partay 9.00 at northstreeet pub. U need to come gurl! Do it 4 u. and me. Don’t wanna be seen with u when u don’t even come to Nathan – the most popula guy in school’s partay. Plz galpal. Say YES!!!!

NinjaGirl: Um… I can’t… res…ist…don’t…do this…to me!!! Fine. I’ll come – 9.00. How could I miss out? 1 word is wat that would be: embarrassing… ;D

My eyes flicker between the breaches of reality and my digital paradise, abbreviated slang appearing on the screen as my nimble fingers glide across the keyboard. I watch as they type an automated response – the reaction any “usual” teenager would expect to such an invitation. An invitation that cannot – should not be overlooked, without the person jeopardizing what is labelled as their “social rating.” I shouldn’t care about my “popularity”. But I do.

The disappointment formed within me evolves into the convergence of various hormonal emotions. I should not have agreed to attend “Nathan’s” party – I’m above that, above the usual teenage influences and attractions…

The iridescence my eyes usually possess dulls as I stare at the predetermined words. Shortly after an agonizing flight, my head begins to throb rhythmically as a tedious mauve vastness suddenly threatens to scald my retinas.I have departed for the day, the motion sickness extreme, unbearable.

Fresh morning air is what I need. The clammy warmth of my room lingers as I thrust my shutters open, a crisp wind sweeping and incinerating any humidity. A golden haze seems as though it has been respired throughout the atmosphere, resting and illuminating the street with an ochre glow. My world is ethereal for 27 seconds, before I am awoken from the temporary stupor by my mother’s squeal.

A series of profanities precedes the attention-seeking explanation for my mother’s anger.

Quinoa! How on earth could I have forgotten QUINOA!” I flinch as what sounds like a plate is thrust to the floor, the result of her temperament. I manage to recover the names of my sister and I amongst the babble.

“Audrey! Daphne – quinoa from Aldi. Now. Every packet in stock.” I stare at the porcelain shards scattered hazardously across the tiles of our kitchen, my mother’s cheeks flushed with frustration.

Little did she know the consequence her impatience would bring.

I watch mockingly as Daphne draws a misshaped silver coin from her pocket. My mother fumes with rage as her daughter’s intentions are revealed.

“Heads.” She ejaculates as the coin is tossed through the air…

*****

I slump into the comforting fabric of my sister’s Mini as she spins the key, jerking the motor to life. The imprint of my mother’s victory fades as I glance at Daphne, barely clothed by a threadbare jersey and tight-fitting jeans. Her hair lies in a bundled mess, twisted messily into a bun. Nothing unusual… is my assumption, until our eyes encounter one another’s.

Concaving circles penetrate her eye contour, sinking miserably and allowing her low cheekbones prominence. Her eyelids droop, little resistance barely exposing the cloudy hazel pigment of her eyes, dappled with red veins that surge through the whiteness. I feel my brow furrow as concern for my sister intensifies. I will purchase the quinoa, we shall drive home and she will sleep. Rest. Rejuvenate.

That’s what would have been, had my sister not taken her daily sedatives not ten minutes prior. The sedatives that should have only taken effect an hour later, but didn’t… Flickering shut for not 5 seconds, my sister’s eyes lose sight of their surroundings, her brain powerless over her actions. I notice this too late. My reaction is delayed and I simply watch as the car swerves towards an oak.

Daphne crashed the car. All because we picked heads.

I do hope you enjoyed this week’s installment of Saving Audrey! Here are this week’s options!

  1. Daphne crashes the car (as in Chapter 2) and emergency services surround the Mini. As Daphne and Audrey are hauled to safety, Audrey wakes up to discover her sister has died from severe head trauma.

2. Subsequent to crashing the car (as in Chapter 2) Audrey and Daphne are rushed to hospital, Daphne remaining comatose for several weeks.

3. After the crash, Daphne and Audrey are dashed to the nearest hospital, Audrey awakening to her sister lying in the bed beside her, one million machines connected to her body. She comes to learn that her sister is suffering from severe amnesia.

Thanks for your support and let me know what you would like to happen below!

Olivia, writing on a whim…

Chapter 1 – Capital F

CYOA, Homework, School, Writing

Note: the overview in the previous post is merely my ideal story unfolding, however, you, as readers and voters, can redirect that story in any which way I present to you…

face..

The cursor flashes expectantly as I thump in the letters of my desired destination.

facebook

One word. One word chosen from an infinite amount. A sheltered, convenient escape from inevitable suffering and pain. That is all I need – my treatment – and then I will be hauled into reality once again, unpleasant veracities greeting me. As I snap my cursor to the suggested search of Facebook with a capital F, a blue login page welcomes me, the final stage of transit before I am plummeted into a fantasy.

Email or Phone: ninjagirl@blackbeltblue.com

Password:

On the Internet, I can be anything. No one will know. I don’t have to be the 13-year-old nobody shadowed by her suffering older sister, invasively nosy mother. I can be anyth-

As I reach to type my password, the hollow and frustrated sob of my sister suggests my comfort.

She’s crying, again. The arrow on my screen hovers over the red cross, imprinted in a desolate corner, and with reluctance, I hear the click as the boarding gate snaps shut. Instead, a monotonous mauve background burns my eyes. I flip the laptop shut and glance at the fluorescence of my alarm clock. 11:58PM.

She can’t sleep, again, stress seizing and tensing every bone. It’s as though she is relinquishing her sanity, when she encounters a stress attack. The insomnia has majorly affected her – Mum was told today that it has developed from an acute to chronic condition. But it’ll all be over soon…

As I nudge the door, I see that Daphne’s eyes are inflamed, burning the crimson red of blood as she weeps. Her body trembles in my embrace, opaque mascara dripping from her lashes. Across the room, a cluttered mass of studying material occupies her desk.

“Year 12 bugs, huh.” My pathetic attempt at comfort.

I don’t hear an answer. Just a reassuring squeeze that she hasn’t lost it completely.

It doesn’t stop till 1:07AM, when her bleeding eyes droop and mascara-stained lids enclose her vision. Our arms are wrapped around one another and we are one…

a) Audrey awakens in the morning, sprawled out on her sister’s bed, the house and Daphne’s bedroom vacant of its owner…

b) Audrey awakens in the morning, sits at her desk and enters her digital fantastical world before a devastating calamity…

c) Daphne receives an anonymous letter structured in verse, and its composer unusually familiar…

Olivia, writing on a whim…

Choose Your Own Adventure – Saving Audrey

CYOA, Homework, School, Writing

Dear Bloggers / Photographers,

As you may know, a fresh term has dawned on us, bringing new projects to complete! Last term’s project entailed students engaging in a Passion Project, where I learned about photography.

This term, we are assigned the task of writing our unique Choose Your Own Adventure novels. This entails the writer posting a chapter each week, and asking the readers to vote on an outcome, requiring the writer to continue the story based on their choice.

Below is my character planning, voluntary (Self-designed) book cover and overview (blurb) outlining my story.

Saving Audrey-page-001

Cover Designer: Olivia Cejnar using Canva

overview

Audrey would have won the coin toss if she’d chosen heads. Her sister wouldn’t have driven them to Coles under the influence of sedatives that should only have taken effect an hour later. The car would have remained under a protective layering of steel casing and Audrey might have posted her latest photography collection on her Facebook page by midday.

Her sister would have fallen asleep, engaged in the thrilling plot of another sci-fi novel. Their mother would’ve had to adapt to the lack of quinoa in the fridge instead of insisting Audrey and Daphne buy every 250 gram packet Coles had in stock.

Perhaps Audrey would have noticed her sister gulp down the sedatives as she slid her hands onto the steering wheel.

Daphne certainly wouldn’t have fallen asleep and crashed the car.

Audrey would have won the coin toss if she’d chosen heads. Her sister and best friend would not have died in the seat next to her, the windshield coated in a blood that shimmered as blue and red flashing lights surrounded their heavily damaged Mini.

But Audrey picked tails.

~~~~~

Protagonist character profile

Name: Kessinger, Audrey

Age: 13

Origin: Australia, WA

Relations: Kessinger, Daphne (sister, deceased); Kessinger, Easton (father, alive); Kessinger, Cordielle (mother, alive)

Pastimes: Photography, posting photography collections on Facebook

Best friend: Daphne Kessinger (sister)

Diagnosis: Severe Traumatic Brain Injury, comatose for 3 months

~~~~~

sub character profile

Name: Kessinger, Daphne

Age: 17

Origin: Australia, WA

Relations: “ Simmons, Jason (boyfriend)

Pastimes: Reading, studying, sleeping

Diagnosis: Insomnia – treatment: sedatives

Fatality: Fatal Traumatic Brain Injury

~~~~~

I do hope you remain engaged in my novel as I progress through it and stay tuned!

Olivia, writing (and photographing) on a whim…

Imperfection

MyPhotography, Writing
008

Photo Credit: Olivia Cejnar (me!)

lemon smile
you bear a
disposition of
ignorance of
beauty

your vibrant arms
enclose me
an embrace of
warmth
melting the frost
layered upon
me in
a cold world

without you
vivid
ablaze with ethical
perfection
what would this world be?

frozen, numbed
no sun to thaw
the envy
bitterness
sabotage
the imperfection
of Earth

Olivia, writing (and photographing) on a whim…

Must Be Love

MyPhotography, Poems, Writing

Photo Credit (x3): Olivia Cejnar (me!)

IMG_0335

IMG_0317

IMG_0443

a swelling of
the heart
every inhalation brings
sweating of
my palms
of scalding fires
when I see
you
your piercing eyes
burn
infusing my world
with
the sweet fragrance
crisp taste
of something
mysterious
and new
this must be love

Olivia, writing (and photographing) on a whim…

Crimson Canopies

MyPhotography, Passion Project, Poems, Writing
695

Photo Credit: Olivia Cejnar (me!)

 

deep, chestnut skin
cracked, dehydrated
crimson canopies
burning
catching alight as they
brush the sun

Olivia, writing (and photographing) on a whim…

Ivory Saffron

Create, MyPhotography, Passion Project, Poems, Writing
IMG_4395

Photo Credit: Olivia Cejnar (me!)

ivory saffron
melts into lilac blush
fragile fingers, blemished
reach towards a luscious nectar
effervescent champagne tears
dapple wounded petals
verdant greens contrast
starkly

Olivia, writing (and photographing) on a whim…

At Witching Hour…

Life, MyPhotography, Passion Project, Poems, Writing
Photo Credit: Olivia Cejnar (me!)

Photo Credit: Olivia Cejnar (me!)

titian blush
seeps through
ethereal clouds
igniting, smoldering
gliding across
forest canopy
mystery of
decrepit dwelling
its occult
its secrets
concealed by twilight
at witching hour

Olivia, writing (and photographing) on a whim…

Passion Project – Wk 1

Create, Homework, Life, MyPhotography, Passion Project, Poems, School, Writing

Dear Readers,

eiffel tower passion

Photo and Editing Credit: Olivia Cejnar (me!)

May your imagination drive you towards your star. The star with your name branded onto it. Pursue that gleaming treasure, no interstellar experience required, for discovering your passion is worth each step. Some stars may prove bigger than those of others, but beauty is certain for all. Dream. Live. Love.
– Olivia Cejnar (me)

What might this mean for you? Whether you have decided on a career already, perhaps you are battling with yourself in the midst of selecting a lifetime wish, or possibly, you are determining which subjects you shall elect for middle school.

Pivotal decisions are inevitable in life, no matter the stage you may currently be within. However, the fundamental approach to persevering through these times is to bear in to bear in mind you. Train your eye to that shimmering star, the one that has your name scribed into it.

follow your passion

Photo Credit: daviddewolf.com

No matter how big that star is, despite how its reputation may be perceived in society, love conquers all. Therefore, be resilient, courageous, be bold and worthy of capturing your star. Achieve the dreams that you want. May this be anything that catches the path of your eye.

The importance of chasing your dreams and your star has been acknowledged in our school, resulting in a thorough and personal task to be completed over the course of 9 weeks. The project is regarding the subject of passions, and has proved quite a revolution in school projects / homework for us! Our accustomed view of tedious, tiresome homework has changed, and an innovative spark of stimulating and motivating ideas has created an animated attitude concerning homework.

passion project

Photo Credit: Olivia Cejnar (me!)

I suspect, after paragraphs of my rambling on about the importance of loving what you do and doing what you love, be eager to know what the project is! It is, in fact, a Passion Project (as you may have gathered from the image). This task is entirely personalised by the student, meaning that they may choose their project, so long as there is an educational value in the task.

One popular idea is to gather a portfolio of childhood recipes and create a cookbook based on this. The learning aspect of this is to learn how to cook, how to design an appealing cookbook and potentially how to create recipes. Another popular idea is to write a short novella, and for some, illustrate it. The learning feature of this project is learning the details of planning a book and the tedious process of writing it. This particular project incorporates many details that prove time-consuming, but exciting.

cookbook

Photo Credit: Exit Interiors

Initially, my mind was spinning with potential projects that I could choose, however after reflecting on these possibilities and summoning my introspective conscience, I decided that none of these particular projects proved correct for me. A few of my preliminary thoughts are as follow: After playing the violin for eight years and becoming fairly advanced, I thought I could incorporate my passion and adoration for music into my passion project. Such musical ideas included composing a violin concerto. I decided to discard this though, simply because this would prove to become less exciting than it seems, after the first few weeks. I needed something light-hearted and intriguing that I could become engrossed in throughout the entire period of time we were carrying out our projects for.

violin

Photo Credit: Olivia Cejnar (me!)

My second musical idea was to thoroughly research a small selection of composers (preferably composers whose pieces are already in my Suzuki book) and put this information into a suitable sized book. Following this, I would prepare a piece from each composer to perform at the presentation day. Being who I am, I would find the latter part of project slightly embarrassing and daunting. I did consider simply taking this part out, however then the project would become slightly dull.

Similarly to many other girls in my class, the idea of writing a novella did appear in my mind due to my passion for writing and ‘painting with words’. Despite this adoration and sense of tranquillity when I write, I have never seemed to have the will power to write more than five to ten pages of a book! I have since discovered that descriptive, free verse poetry is the writing that I love. You can view my poetry and photography in the posts below, and in the category labelled ‘Poetry’.

passion is the key

Photo Credit: Olivia Cejnar (me!)

From this idea and a sudden love, if not obsession with photography, I developed my Nobel Prize winning project solution. During the holidays, I discovered this photography obsession of mine, from my mum’s iPhone (8megapixels) to my Dad’s Samsung Galaxy S4 (13 megapixels) to the (fairly rubbish) 12 megapixel digital camera. Using a digital camera is easy and takes photos that are fine even perfect for a family simply wanting to capture memories without any hassle, but I wanted more, I felt restricted by these cameras and not having the ability to experiment with aperture, shutter speed or ISO.

Photo Credit: pixabay.com

I wanted to incorporate my passion for writing and poetry with photography. As you can see if you click on the ‘MyPhotography’ / ‘Photo Editing’ categories, I have been taking macro shots with the digital camera and uploading it to my blog. As an addition to this, I have found wonderful inspiration and have discovered poetry photography, or photography which is written about and described using free verse photography. A few of the blogs that have acted as an inspiration to me include: The Ancient Eavesdropper Raindrops, Passion Through Poetry, Nina Joan, The Darkroom Nerd and more… See my blogroll for more.

Long story short, I have decided to do poetry and photography as my passion project. The learning aspect of this is that I will learn how to use an SLR camera and demonstrate these skills by taking photos and experimenting with aperture, shutter speed and ISO. I will then be writing free-verse poetry about these photos and posting it on my blog. For the presentation of the project, these posts will be put in a portfolio and made into a book.

Keep posted to see my project develop!

Olivia, writing (and photographing) on a whim…

Memory Capture

Life, MyPhotography, Poems, Writing
voigtlander_bessa-r2m_camera_style_quality_ultra_3840x2160_hd-wallpaper-41493

Photo Credit: Wallpapers You Need

 

flickering heartbeat
of shutter
captures
conquers memoirs
of our life
light playful
bouncing, invading
reflecting, enhancing
our recollection of
the most extraordinary
memories

Olivia, writing on a whim…

Butterfly

Create, Poems, Writing
Cabbage Butterfly. (1) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015

Cabbage Butterfly. (1) Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2015

A gentle heartbeat
of flapping wings
as they drift lightly
on a summer breeze.

The vibrant song of
a blooming floret like a stand
as a cabbage ‘fly’s beating wings
halts to a
s t o p.

Olivia, writing on a whim…

Clouds

Create, Poems, Writing

My first abstract poem, inspired by photographic poets in blogroll*.

IMG_4890

Photo Credit: Olivia Cejnar (me!)

Clouds
weightlessly floating, gliding
across a blue mass
as it bleeds
from sun’s searing touch,
gilded with its golden glow.

Olivia, writing on a whim…

P.S * = scroll down for blogroll to see my poetic inspiration.