Lets trade our swords for roses and surrender into each others arms, sending lust-filled battle cries into the night.

A quick poetic thought based around the idea of lovers being on opposing teams. I've been hooked on the BBC series The White Queen recently (more specifically the relationship between Anne Neville and Richard iii). The Tudor period is one that has always fascinated me and the divide between the Lancastrian side and York side is such a strong divide that if two people on opposing sides they would have to put their feelings aside.

Floral Decay

A room full of floral decay
That bittersweet smell of mixed perfumes
Lingers, and the waft of stale summer air
Waltzes down the aisle
That awkward time stuck between
A blistering summers day
And the ice frosted night
A note to congratulate the bride
And the groom
That couple that wont even last the night
Divorces are expensive I think
As the pen hits the paper

As part of a task I was given a random: object, setting and time of day. I got: a wedding in a church, a letter and the afternoon. I really don't know how this managed to take such a depressing (yet comical) turn as I was planning on something rather romantic.

Blackened Frost

Sea of flowers , bursting with petals
stained  a solemn yellow tint
through years of death and decay
A demure hurricane wanders through
With blackened frost
A selcouth sight of the night
Thrusting back the whitened sky of yesterday
That threatens tomorrow nights dreams.

In this poem I took inspiration from the extraordinary poet Emily Dickinson who in many poems reinvented words, for example the adjective white was used in the quote "Dare you see a soul at the white heat?" as a colour of love and danger, in the same poem the colour red is also described as "fire's common tint". It is perhaps Dickinson's reinvention of popular word connotations that makes her work so interesting, it causes the reader to re-think what words mean to them.
I explored the meanings of the following words, not changing their meaning but the connotations that go with them.
Flowers: natures gravestone 
Yellow: A sour colour of mourning and age
Black: a friendly warm colour of hope and prosperity 
White: A colour of danger and mourning 
Hurricane: A welcome gust of wind and drizzle 
Frost: A friendly feeling of presence (similar to the feeling of being hugged)

On The Mantelshelf

The glistening ornaments shone in the misty sunlight, crystals, glasses of green and red- diamonds, the children giggled, wide eyes gazing into the empty cottage. Through fear the wind may catch the door, they creaked it open slowly and before shutting the latch behind them. Like boys in a candy store the girls marveled at the decorative creations, glazed eyed and open mouthed.Millie, being only 16 and still violently naive, stretched out a hand, leaning towards an old oak music box, before having it violently snatched away by Lou. "Do you want to wake her?" she hissed silently before resting the box back in its place.

Picking a random paragraph in a book of childrens stories I put pen to paper and chose to continue the story with just one more paragraph. Knowing nothing about the story (after having read only one paragraph) i chose to focus on the naive nature of the two girls and their child like facination with the ornaments on Miss Parsons mantelshelf.

I pray the flowers teach me how to blossom,
To open my mind with the morning dew,
Keep firm roots and let the path of the wind guide me

Betrothed To My Burden

If you should find yourself
Unbeknowingly betrothed to my burden
Smite it down
Tear at its dreams, its hopes and its passions.
Do it so, with lack of lust
No compassion nor craving for its eternity
No infinite love, or never ending cycle

The Tale Of Mrs Appleton- child literature experimentation

A timid creature, of around fourteen years, although no one knows for sure, Mrs Appleton is an elderly hedgehog who lives at the bottom of Young Spring Woods in an old cottage tree stump, made of antique oak.
Loved by all the animals, Mrs Appleton is never short on visitors and a fresh pot of tea is always brewing on the chance that a passer-by might be in need.
The winters are harsh and hibernation is a curse for those who love a clean house but spring greets the animals with a warm smile and fresh flowers filling old jam-jars, along with a collection of new-born lambs and chicks, each coated in a thick home-made jumper knitted with the finest sheep's wool and by the most delicate hands.
Mrs Appleton may be old but her home is always thriving, giving the story-teller a host of new tales to tell.
One thing is certain, as certain as the leaves are green, Mrs Appleton is loved by all she meets.

Iv been dabbling in the art of child literature recently, taking inspiration from one of my favourite childhood authors Beatrix Potter, this short story explains the life of an elderly hedgehog called Mrs Appleton. The tale above is aimed at a child audience and although I know little about children I have always had a passion for their literature. The story below follows the same tale but is aimed at a more adult audience due to the extended vocabulary. The idea of an enchanted forest with live animals carrying human traits is a concept that can be enjoyed by all ages and I wanted to translate the story so that it could be.

The Tale Of Mrs Appleton (Adult version) 
A timid creature, of around fourteen years, although no one knows for sure; with fragile spines made of porcelain and eyes that glitter, with a distant youthful viritity. Her age shown only through the journey mapped around the fragile lines of her eyes.
An aesthete, a precocious raconteur with tales to fill a thousand hearts and a delicate smile; neither wifty nor naive, but eloquent, knowingly blessed by the land.
Her cottage filled with tea stained air, built up over years of passers-by and dust dancers, unsettled by the sunrise through the bark encrusted windows, peering over to the selcouth forest named Young Spring Woods.