People get rings like those of a tree (but ours are under our eyes).

Part of a larger work, I Used to be a Shark. Small musings.

People get rings like those of a tree (but ours are under our eyes).

Most of the times I begin something, it is with a spurt of creativity, and I want to write. It isn’t always so, such as now; but I do feel that, seeing as finding self-worth from marked progress would be a nay-sayer to the hopeful actuality, I cannot delay. People are tired. I am among them, and I sympathize; I would even if I wasn’t among them: how could someone with the wiles of today rest peacefully at the hope of tomorrow, when tomorrow is clad the same as today?

If I did not have to think, I would say that sometimes I might be happier. Still, for the times when thinking is the thing to do, the small solace it brings is worth that price… Which might be worth more? well— that is the question to answer.

A very wordy explanation might be due, but pray it might not be written where a shorter one would suffice. For my purposes, no answer would suffice. Now I am just rambling… Intelligence is ironic that it might be put to use in silence but seldom aloud. It is always said to be a shared thing, and for what it’s worth as a stupid thing, that’s odd. My discourse of course isn’t what makes something intelligent, but why we continue to slave as a collective people in this age. We are tired, and I, here among the “we,” show sympathy. I would even if I wasn’t among the “we.”

I began to think that, had not someone at some point sat down and thought of why he had decided to do what he just did, what was his reason for moving at all, much less to think about thinking of a reason, we would all arrive very differently to a conclusion of the purpose of life. I do not mean to say that people tire of purpose, regardless of what that purpose may be. I do say that they tire of the constant quest to maintain that purpose. Put simply, those things we must do that aren’t what we really are here to do, but are necessary to able to keep doing our purpose. A mild difference. I know. But from mild to miles between. Our trouble is with this maintenance. The space in between doing what matters that actually kind of does matter.

Absolutely we should not set ablaze a people as a forest. But if a tree, when cut open, displays a charred ring— I mean to say a fire that it survived in its youth or really at any point— and has grown, we might know that the non-thinkers can get through the toughest of times.

Without meaning to.

It’s the thinkers that have the trouble greatest of all.




Drip drip drop

everything underfoot, kind of dead grass

leaves brown, red, brown, red, brown, red, brown, red



that sphere.

ridges, vines, something black, black tinsel,

pink lights,

something in the moon, wind, clouds, wind.


…the Earth says switch…


Drip drip drop

sweets, pies

something in the air there is,

graves still fresh,

not the death season,

the cold season,

the cold, maybe, but not the white snow.


…the Earth says switch…


Drip, drip, drop

second draft,

maybe every gourd is grown just for this,

scythe for carving,


leaves like rusted paper,

some faces in those gourds.


…the Earth says switch…


Britannica, Oxford, colloquial sometimes,

the dead plants, maybe, people, maybe,

but not dead,

just ripe to harvest,

and our season,

leading into the Holly King,

not yet Yule,

but a Mabon tablecloth,

Samhain tablecloth,



…the Earth says switch…

Duets on Dawn and Dusk

Circa second grade :p but they made it into Poetry While You Wait!


It Is Dawn

The sun will rise, the moon will set back,

the skies will flush with pink from black.

the dew will rest like hazy blue,

a zephyr lifts flower heads, waking a few.

among shallow trunks of aspen trees,

there lives a dust, pallid, like Brie.

a soft whisper wind comes calmingly down,

from gates of the heavens, such a peaceful sound.

ripples are lifeless until dragonflies,

by dawn there is light, yet to flood the skies.




It Is Dusk

Dark and calming, bittersweet,

the glassy sky of fire.

swaying clouds now fall away,

be gray as nighttime dire.

needless to say the cobalt sky

’tis pouring down the stars,

and china glazed up in their midst

is leaving tiny scars.

twinkles so very far away

and the water crested sky

are murdering the last of sunny rays,

the darkness waiting looks but shy.

mindful teachings leave in awe

and sometimes underneath its bough

leave people, dreamers asking why


Recycling Mythology?

This past year I read the Canterbury Tales (not in its entirety, but a good chunk). I’ve written a few short tales in verse form, and I really like the tight-ship of keeping with a good rhythm and rhyme. And shucky darn, Sir Geoffrey Chaucer made my little heart happy.

I’ve read the Bhagavad Gita, the Odyssey, the Iliad, and [regrettably] some of Beowulf, and I’m always really impressed by the use of verse for such long pieces. I wish I could read Old English or Sanskrit or classical Greek so I really got a sense for things, but for now I’m pretty happy that the modern age does its damnedest to cater to us English speakers.

Anyways, after reading a few other myths I’ve been getting an urge to try my hand at making a longer verse piece. Basically, recycling the plot into rhyme. So far an original piece is going pretty well, and I thought I’d share a bit of what I’m working on later. I figure it’s easier to come up with a plot that suits my rhyming needs before I try to make myself into a wannabe-super-writer. But the thought’s there.

My tale is featuring a maiden (because maidens are the middle-aged waitresses of the character tropes, overworked and pretty easy to find). She’ll go on a few adventures trying to find the Lord of Knowledge so she can learn about *things* (which things? I don’t know!) Right about now she’s having her first sashay with a decrepit river nymph/creature. Spoiler: river nymph is bad. But because we need someone who doesn’t know the rules about not talking to stranger river nymphs, we use a maiden.

And everything comes full circle.


Currently I’m on the hunt for some dank tales– shouldn’t be hard, because mythology folk know how to tell a cutthroat story. And, you know, can’t stray too far off brand. (BONUS: the comfort of having a lot of descriptive morbid vocabulary).

In the mean time, I think I’ll give my thesaurus a break for a little so it can get its beauty rest before I abuse it to find a good word fit!

getting started!

So, this is kind of the bread and butter of writers, unless it’s not, in which case the story lines end up really sucking. It doesn’t matter how many visual sequences you have or how cool your character names are if the muse isn’t going anywhere!
Rarely can we tap our muse on the shoulder and say, «I’m ready now!» Therefore, my best suggestion (and your best bet) is to carry a notebook, or at lest a pen. Write down what you feel, what you see, anything you do or can use for later. I’ll talk later about believability.
I also recommend taking up a dream journal. Most of my best thoughts and plots come from my dreams, and while I do have a great memory for that sort of thing, you may forget the moment you wake up- so write it down!!! Also, some people just «don’t» dream, but I still recommend writing down something anyways, you know, to «get the thoughts flowing.»
I’ve talked before about altar-egos for doing various tasks (which sounds a bit psychopathic, but I promise it’s not). Basically, when you’re busy doing random things, i.e., washing the dishes, vacuuming, etc.; stop and think about how different types of people would view those tasks.
Some examples:
An optimist on washing the dishes would think, «wow, my kitchen will be so clean!» «This water is warm.» «It’s nice to pause and do this simple task while looking out my window to a beautiful view!»
A pessimist on yard work might feel tired, slouchy, or annoyed at the hot/coldness of outside.
So, this will help on the aspect of creating believable writing that is relatable and entertaining. Save those average experiences and think up some witty, funny, snarky, etc. ways of describing the things around you.
Some more examples:
A frazzled college student washing the dishes might think: «my hands will be so dry after this, and I have studying to do, but I’m so hungry! Wow, is my sink drain really this gross? That’s gotta be cleaned… God, I wonder which chapter will be the hardest to memorize…»
Seeing as these are basic, random thoughts, they’ll add a touch of realism and personality while not being overly distracting from the storyline and enhancing and giving depth to the character. 🙂
Thanks for reading, and more next time!


Hello! My name is Devin Rose and I’m a writer 🙂 you’ve found my website where I post my works, including poems, short stories, and novels. You’ll also find writing tips and pictures. Happy writing!