Unclear Glass

The glass is scratched from being washed
by a dish washer for years.
Tiny salt crystals deepening into the glass surface,

engraving their own unique salty existence
into random lines.
Looking through, the world is scratched.
Just deep enough to show.
She drinks her coke from the glass.
And the point of it all is unclear.

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© Kate Ruston and Happy Little Narwhal 2016. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Kate Ruston or Happy Little Narwhal with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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My e-Books:

From the Watchtower

The Blind Kings Sons 

Harry Potter and the Gothic Genre 

Two Poems...

Faithless Sleeper

Why is it easier to end in anger?

My life, it seems to end with your dagger.

But is that better than living in mortal danger?

I stopped dancing with a branding poker,

I stopped consorting with a jeering joker,

And for what! I seem to have lost a lover,

Who filled my world with joy and wonder,

Who asked me to trust him and more over,

Said he would be there, always, forever.

Yet I stop. I seem to live in slumber,

In this world I’m a helpless dreamer,

And you protect me, the faithless sleeper,

And you’re devoted. But you love her!

In reality, you’re a little shocker!

You string me along but now its over.

I’m not playing your game any longer.

Because of this, I am much stronger.

Google Images

Dummy

Is this fear I feel, my dearest good friend?

Is the trust you seem so happy to break?

Is this awful feeling ever to end?

From this feeling will I ever awake?

Will you give back how I was before?

Will you leave me alone, so I can live?

Will you answer if I choose to implore?

From that first feeling, my hatred I give.

Can I simply forget all of this?

Can I? Of course I, it’s silly to ask!

You and your friendship I will dismiss.

I know who I am; I don’t need a mask.

Two Poems by Kate Ruston, first written in 2011, 2nd in 2009.

Thank you for reading. Please show your support by clicking like, commenting and following.

Please check out my e-books on amazon kindle.
All works Copyright Kate Ruston 2014

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My e-Books

The Blind Kings Sons (£0.99)

Harry Potter and the Gothic Genre (£0.99)

My art @ Deviant Art

Something to try...A Writing Exercise

"Look at the photograph on the insert. Imagine you are there. Describe what you see and your thoughts and feelings as you look around."

Write Prose...

The walls tower  awkwardly by my right. They stare at me... judging me and bickering their thoughts. Silently. Under foot the gritty sand nibbles at my soles and mock my blisters. A glint of water in the distance looks scared. As I approach it, it retreats. Crouching, I can study the sea life. Crustaceans, none of which I've ever seen before. Shrill reds and salty stenches greet me. I back away.

I haven't seen any one for days. I think I'm going in circles. Just round and around this island and I cant climb those cliffs though I can see some more stranded in the sea. They look lonely. Outcast from their brothers... like me. As I pause, I notice a bird ... or bird like thing.  It isn't stranded here. It wasn't abandoned. And for this I hate the bird! How did I get here? How can I leave? Do I want to?

There is something oddly familiar about this scenery.  Something strange about the sinister solitude, yet some how... it's comforting. Its like a sickly blanket of air washing over me. Sticking to my skin in the ever lasting twilight. Murky. Gray. Lethargic. Inescapable.

Change into poetry?

Something of a Nothing

I long for a place that we can be free.

I wish the walls to fall into themselves.
This place our watchtower cannot see,
A place where we can express ourselves.

The water retreats as we approach it,

Most things do in this barren landscape.
The cliffs stare down and together commit,
Crimes repressing us here, we can’t escape.

It seems so far, far away from us now,

And I’m sure both our thoughts collide.
Yet we both are aware they will never allow,
For us to forgive and learn to confide.

The walls may hold highest in this plane place,

But freedom’s nearer to love than to haste.


A Poem and Prose by Kate Ruston

Try with this photograph above and my own photographs below. Have fun and post your work.

Thank you for reading. Please show your support by clicking like, commenting and following.

Please check out my e-books on amazon kindle.
All works Copyright Kate Ruston 2014

Like us on Facebook

My e-Books

The Blind Kings Sons (£0.99)

Harry Potter and the Gothic Genre (£0.99)

My art @ Deviant Art