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(This is dedicated to Carl) Your face is fading from my memory Your form Dispersing In the cold winter night In the condensations on the grass that look like teardrops And my vision is blurred Fin ©asamvav111

Begin by music what lyrics had shunned, Evanescent feelings that shan't be returned, Forever is a long time if you are not a friend, Every limit mortal as time's sickle bend. Yet I bequeath my heart and desire, To you and your lot I cast in my fire, A flame everlasting shall flourish in me, Like a flower that blooms only for the bee. 31/12/16 ©asamvav111 Wishing everyone of my friends, near & dear ones, far & farces, enemies & rivals A VERY HAPPY NEW YEAR.

Predestination Staring at the blue sky To the distant pasts that glittered in the stars Unseen, unfound, hidden beneath the fluffy clouds Lying on the concrete Hard truths and harder are the choices that exhumed The sins of the father reflected on the Lamb of God Floating skyscrapers Diminishing breaths that’s building upon the layers of Foggy winter morning’s urban bustling rabble 14/10/2016 ©asamvav111

Good stories never end. They just begin a new chapter. Fragments were our destiny. Our fate doomed the first time I saw you smile. Your eyes were filled with the moist heat of the mid summer mango grove's shady effervescent infrangible delight. Your movements took shape in the delicate prowess of a mountain leopard. Your form undulating to the beats that broke down the unyielding barrier of disaffection. And your gentle grace that stoked the hopes of an arid wanderer. But it wasn't to last forever. We only receive fragments as our due. When I finally held you in my arms, your pliant silhouette unresisting my fervid advances, we soared to the high heavens of unhindered pleasure. Under the influence of the myriad drugs that I had mixed in your drinks all evening, you kept repeating your mantra in stilted breath. "This is not happening to me." Yet it did. We had our sweet moments together. The moments I immortalized in the waiting eye of the lens. Thus our fragment shall forever be mine. My own love child, a secret to cherish and protect. Yet it pains me to see you walk away, amnesic of my passionate embrace. To see fear crowding those eyes that once held bequest of a rest, it cuts me deep. Shattering me in the many fragments that were once you and I. 18/08/2016 ©asamvav111

You kept telling me how I took up all the space in our relationship. How you needed to get away To get a way around the things in your head... Blasphemy. I believe I was still in your head. And stuck in the chambers of your heart, Your entrails shackling me to the walls of inferiority. Understanding your grudging affection Took up most of my daylight, yet you kept Asking for more... more space in your head. More air to breath, you sought out the nearest Island of wasted youth. More experiences, You needed more sensations, to expound The theories on space in relationships. I kept enabling you. I provided you More space, more air, more sensations. And when I finally went bone dry, Not a tear to spare, Your rampage stopped. I felt violated. I wanted to throw up. I couldn't. I wanted to cease to exist. I couldn't. And when I looked up towards the sky Bereft of all hopes of all illusions of all boundaries and burdens, I found myself attrited in the returning sunshine. 09/08/2016 ©asamvav111

Extreme Unction Unloved, Unkissed, Unconfessed sins Of hidden romances, Daring lusts to reach the heavens of Unmuted affections. Uncouth, Unknown, Undesired attraction Of objects lost, To deny the existence of Unseen memoirs of transgressions. Unforgiven, Untold, Unending love. 15/05/16 ©asamvav111

Happy Friday everyone! And if you didn't notice, it's Friday the 13th to boot! Do you have any Friday the 13th superstitions? If so, let me hear em! Just for fun, I'm going to do a "special prompt" for Friday the 13th, on top of our regular prompts. Since we missed prompts last week, I'm also including the newest Poetry Prompt for you. Have fun writing, and don't forget that prompt responses can be posted in GA Stories, but any under 1K must be posted as part of a collection! Special Prompt #1 Tag - Friday the 13th It's Friday the 13th and you're having a movie night with all your friends. You're having a marathon of the Friday the 13th movies. You've just put the second one in when you get a creepy phone call and start hearing sounds from outside. What was said in the phone call and what sounds are you hearing and who, or what, is making them. Prompt 498 – Creative Tag -List of Words Use the following words in a story : a pen, a blonde wig, a bag of groceries, a swan, and a deck of cards. Prompt 499 – Creative Tag -The Achievement You going to working long and hard on your project. It is taking years to get to this point but you have finally completed it. What is this major achievement? Poetry Prompt #20 Write three Found Poems on the themes of 'Loss,' 'Memory,' and 'Celebration.' Your source material is The Dead, by James Joyce. You may decide if you wish to explore metre in your poem or not, or rhymes to accent certain parts. You may also wish to consider using a repeating section as a refrain. Let your imagination run free, as long as you allow the three principal themes to guide your creation of three freestanding works. You can learn more about Found Poetry in the thread. For our featured Prompt Responses, I decided to take a look at the poetry responses from Poetry Prompt #19:

It's time for new prompts! You were probably beginning to think they were never going to go up, but here they are! And guess what! We also have a new poetry prompt in the forums. Have you checked it out? If not, don't worry, we've included it to make things easier for you. Don't forget, prompt responses under 1,000 words must be posted as part of a collection. Prompt 490 – Creative Tag – List of Words Use the following words in a story : A man’s ring, a dish rag, a pillow, a snake, and a ticket. Prompt 491 – Creative Tag – The Find You and your best friend have gone out shopping for a surprise gift. You wander into this cute boutique and discover what you feel is the perfect gift. What was the find? Poetry Prompt #19 - Lullaby The prompt: Write lyrics to accompany George Gershwin's piano version of his composition, Lullaby. On the video, the place to begin setting the words occurs at minute 0:27. Choose any metre and rhyme scheme you think appropriate. You also decide if you want to write a song about sleep, or a song to put someone to sleep. You can read more about it, here. Now, I decided for this weeks prompt responses, we're going to look at the Poetry Prompt #18:

Who's missed the weekly prompts? It's been a few weeks since we posted some new prompts to help spark some ideas, but they're back. Not only do we have two new prompts for you, but for those that missed it, we also have the new poetry prompt for you! Don't forget that anything under 1000 words needs to be in a collection and that authors are allowed 5 different collections without Admin approval. Prompt 478 – Creative Tag – List of Words Use the following words in a story – roses, bacon, a frog, balloons, and new sneakers. Prompt 479 – Creative Tag – Wishes You and two of your close friends joke about what would make the perfect date. Each of you list five things that are absolutely necessary to make the perfect person. You read the list of items and wish you could find one person who encompassed them all. The following day the three of you go for coffee and spot someone who seems to be created out of your list of requirements from the night before. Who is this mystery person and is he there to fulfill your wishes or make your lives a nightmare? Poetry Prompt 18 – Rubaiyat write one four-lined Khayyám-style Rubaiyat on the theme of 'your muse' (with or without references to drink and pretty boys ). In addition, write one multi-stanza Interlocking Rubaiyat based on the sights and feelings stirred in you by watching Ambrose Bierce's short story, . Use the consistent line lengths you think are best for the individual poems, and follow the basic rhyme patterns for the two types of Rubaiyat. For our featured prompt response today, I'm using Aditus' response to Poetry Prompt #17: You can read the rest, here.

Through the magic that is GA staff who never seem to sleep (we're always watching you, so be afraid, be very afraid!) the Prompts are coming to you slightly late, but not so much. Ever get bogged down on your serial posted story? The novel you're dying to write just not flowing? Take a break and enjoy one of the prompts brought to you by our very own prompt guru, Comicfan! This week, we're also featuring a poetry prompt from AC Benus, too! As always, if your responses are under 1,000 words, make sure you're posting in a collection. Prompt 470 - Creative Tag - The Pants Today is the big day for you. Everything seems to be going well until you dropped your pen, bend over, and your pants split. With your meeting about to start what pants are you now forced to wear? Prompt 471 - Creative Tag -List of Words Use the following words in a story - a gift, a sandwich, handcuffs, silk sheets, and a ring. Poetry Prompt 117 - Childhood Verse The prompt: write two Childhood Verses, one from a kid's point of view, and one from the perspective of an adult. For the first, recall a particular way that you used to like to play, and tell the reader about it. For the grown-up poem, remember those times when you were a child and did not want to go to bed; write the poem from the POV of the adult trying to make you fall asleep. You can use any stanza pattern or rhyme scheme you feel best conveys your concept. To learn more about this type of poetry, click here. For the feature this week, we're taking a look at Carlos Hazday's response to Prompt #468: ​To read more, click here.

He sleeps beneath the blossoming bows of jasmine in this breezy summer night. The call of the flowers fills the hearts of lonely travelers afar. Flowing from vale to vale, its fragrance beckon to the weary legs, Like the sirens who had once enticed the returning Greeks. And as they arrive what do they behold! A solitary bed, Nestled under the Jasmine and Elder grooves, Requiem for a love long lost. Angels sigh in the wind As sweet petals descend upon the grave of my beloved. The silver of the moon cradle my sweet in blissful repose. ©asamvav111

Colours of Love Paint the whole city blue and red, In Colours they come and in Colours they fade. My Colourman comes in a haunting snow, Pristine white when everything glow. He comes silently by my broken window, Softly sauntering like a sad old shadow. Glimpses by my broken window pane And lo what he sees, the old me again. Stuck in my bed in perpetual illness, Waiting in line for my turn with patience, Bereft of all but skin and bones, Sadist as always I am a sight to behold. Yet unlike most that come by my death-bed, I’ve failed so far to scare him to dread. He waits unerringly through the frozen night, And flees just as swiftly as the sun comes in sight. Yet he never utters a single word, Yet his eyes ever speak nothing but love. He colours the leaves and the petals and the pool, He colours distant meadows sheltered and cool, He colours my soul just as he colours the nature, As if I, too am an important creature. But, I know in spring when he’ll come by my window, The bed will be empty and I, one of those shadows. Then shall I be finally one with my love? Together we’ll colour the Heavens above. So here I ask you to do this small favour. Consider this as an affectionate endeavour. Please colour the city Blue and Red, So swiftly my lover finds my desolate bed. And we’ll bring colour to your life in dark shade, For in Colours they come and in Colours they fade! 18/01/2013 ©asamvav111

Nature Silence disconnected, Wrath unleashed. Beneath your playful surface, I fear I sense a dead man, who wants to be alive once more; To feel the passion, the anger, the greed and the lust; All that connects one to life. Silence disconnected, Wrath unleashed. Create a world of meaningful challenges; One, who creates all, hadn’t been true to his soul when he created our world. We need a new world; a world of peace and silence. Silence disconnected, Wrath unleashed. Why create another world full of challenges? So, thus we return to the source, the bottomless cup of ambrosia, That supplies us all that we need most and may be some that we detest; Yet we cannot forgive them, who had once destroyed. In silence we shall await their destruction. Silence disconnected, Wrath unleashed. 2008 ©asamvav111

Casey at the Bat, the poem by Ernest Lawrence Thayer, was first published in the San Francisco Examiner 125 years ago today. The Outlook wasn't brilliant for the Mudville nine that day: The score stood four to two, with but one inning more to play. And then when Cooney died at first, and Barrows did the same, A sickly silence fell upon the patrons of the game. A straggling few got up to go in deep despair. The rest Clung to that hope which springs eternal in the human breast; They thought, if only Casey could get but a whack at that — We'd put up even money, now, with Casey at the bat. But Flynn preceded Casey, as did also Jimmy Blake, And the former was a lulu and the latter was a cake; So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy sat, For there seemed but little chance of Casey's getting to the bat. But Flynn let drive a single, to the wonderment of all, And Blake, the much despis-ed, tore the cover off the ball; And when the dust had lifted, and the men saw what had occurred, There was Jimmy safe at second and Flynn a-hugging third. Then from 5,000 throats and more there rose a lusty yell; It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell; It knocked upon the mountain and recoiled upon the flat, For Casey, mighty Casey, was advancing to the bat. There was ease in Casey's manner as he stepped into his place; There was pride in Casey's bearing and a smile on Casey's face. And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat, No stranger in the crowd could doubt 'twas Casey at the bat. Ten thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt; Five thousand tongues applauded when he wiped them on his shirt. Then while the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip, Defiance gleamed in Casey's eye, a sneer curled Casey's lip. And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air, And Casey stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there. Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped — "That ain't my style," said Casey. "Strike one," the umpire said. From the benches, black with people, there went up a muffled roar, Like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant shore. "Kill him! Kill the umpire!" shouted someone on the stand; And its likely they'd a-killed him had not Casey raised his hand. With a smile of Christian charity great Casey's visage shone; He stilled the rising tumult; he bade the game go on; He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the spheroid flew; But Casey still ignored it, and the umpire said, "Strike two." "Fraud!" cried the maddened thousands, and echo answered fraud; But one scornful look from Casey and the audience was awed. They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain, And they knew that Casey wouldn't let that ball go by again. The sneer is gone from Casey's lip, his teeth are clenched in hate; He pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate. And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go, And now the air is shattered by the force of Casey's blow. Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright; The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light, And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout; But there is no joy in Mudville — mighty Casey has struck out.