Archive for December, 2014

Quoted in the Grove:
Art is a collaboration between God and the artist, and the less the artist does the better.
~Andre Gide

The position of the artist is humble. He is essentially a channel.
~Piet Mondrian

I think God has visited me.
~Georg Handel, on completing his oratorio, “Messiah”

I think it’s possible to write something, for me to write something, that even God might like. […] Not as a soul seeking salvation, but just as entertainment for God. This may be blasphemous to say, but I believe it.
~J F Powers


Posted from the Grove:
A quick reminder that this Thurs, the 1st of Jan, begins this year’s writing contest for the Wordgrove Prize. Club mail will go out that day with this year’s theme, but information on rules and guidelines are now available at:

If there are questions after checking thru the page, please contact BarTalk ASAP with them. It will be best to get these answered early and this page updated. Your help with any questions you have will only make this contest better


Prewritten for Thurs (04/17) @6pm PT/9 ET is: A paranormal experience in There


@Writers Platform
Glass Table:

~Dharma_Darla: One And All (qip)

Suzy on the swing
feeling the merry in the virgin wind.
Wild coyotes and night time howlness
I lurk in the jungle in my sensual prowess.

~Greymane: Monochrome (qif)

The monochrome maiden got lost in herself
She kept all her colors in jars on a shelf
She’d load up her pallet and paint on her mood
and breathe the fresh air with her spirit renewed

Green was for wisdom and yellow for fear
Red for the anger and passions unclear
Purple confusion and lavendar love
Orange the warmth that would come from above

Blue for emotions that came in degrees
from cold hearted lonely to soft calming breeze
Black for the darkness and white for the light
they all danced together in dreams every night

Dreaming in color but living in Grey
she poured all her colors together one day
They blended together in one swirling mess
A rainbow of feelings she could not supress

She bathed in her rainbow a little bit torn
Awash in her feelings and newly reborn
Monochrome maiden now painted at last
her black and white thinking a thing of the past

Also: Descending


Prewritten: Silence of Winter

~Dharma_Darla: The Silence of Winter
(ei*) More flight of fancy than winterscape, words stretched to the point of fantasy, stretched and toppled into the flat eight of infinity

~Greymane: Winter’s Silence (qif)
Winter cried from deep inside the seasons of my soul
The Silence where I tried to hide was comfort winter stole
Whispers of another dream I thought I used to know
Lost in sleep that winter buries cold beneath the snow

Lost in Silent White
Whispered cries of solitude
Winter’s icy breath

~Piffin: haiku

Day after Christmas
Curbside pile wrapping paper
Silence of winter

~BarTalk: A Winter Silence


Impromptu: chanting, explosion

~Piffin: “Thrall” (qip)

With lips wet and parted
You smile, half-hearted
Now, look what you’ve started
Through fire we swoon
With shackled precision
In midnight collision
My mantic romantic
In thrall to the moon

Greymane: Lost (qip)

Fear of never finding light
hidden in my rage
Running from the endless night
cowered in my cage

~Dharma_Darla: Zen My Friend  (qif)

I still feel the will of the energy that we generated together. Kwanseumbosal chanting invoked the sweetest compassion to be active and present. Each hit of the moktak and syllable uttered fused with her pure essence creating an explosion that extended infinitely. I will always be drawn into the stillness of the sounds. Those that both settle and move simultaneously.


*ei: editor’s impression

Be safe this holiday

~ . ~

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Quoted in the Grove:
People work much in order to secure the future; I gave my mind much work and trouble, trying to secure the past.
~Isak Dinesen

It is sadder to find the past again and find it inadequate to the present than it is to have it elude you and remain forever a harmonious conception of memory.
~F Scott Fitzgerald

We must welcome the future, remembering that soon it will be the past; and we must respect the past, remembering that it was once all that was humanly possible.
~George Santayana


Firstly, a belated, though no less earned, congratulations to TommyO and Noxy for successfully completing this years National Novel Writing Month challenge.  Way to go!

Due to Christmas falling on Thursday this year, this week’s Word Game Group will meet on Friday, December 26th at 9 PM EST.

The topic for this week’s Prewritten is: The Silence of Winter


On the Glass Table:


Dharma_Darla: Three untitled poems. (qip)

I’m inside here like a demon’s soul
possessing someone else’s body.
The view gets distorted if I don’t
let the thought-dust settle.
Take a vacation from making.


Prewritten (Dec 18): Write about image (http://th09.deviantart.net/fs70/PRE/i/2012/224/f/a/dark_angel_by_qiubi-d5asy1m.jpg).

BarTalk: “Dark Angel Rising” (qif)

Take heed, no exception
Some advice on complexion
On sex & putting a hex on
Your muscle & its flexion
Stand tall and erect, son

Greymane: Azariel (qip)

The dark angel stood on the edge of a cloud
While casting disruption and laughing out loud
The red eye of Taurus, a slave to Phul’s gold,
Pursues seven sisters too bright to behold


Impromptu (Dec 18): crime scene, cross

Jessalee: Untitled (qip)

exit light, into the overwhelming darkness into lava holes once a glowing red down we go, and i became rather spineless famous detective, who would rather be in bed

Greymane: “White Cross” (qif)

A plain white cross beside the road, halfway into town
Someone puts one back each time the farmer takes it down
A crime scene thirteen years ago and every single year
Despite the farmer’s stern protest, a new shrine does appear

Greenie: “Paths Crossed” (qif)

The crime scene laid it all out.
Paths crossed.
Beautiful woman.
Luxurious penthouse.

All of the trappings of the rich and famous.


The man.

The wife.
Walking away.
Smoking gun, tossed into the river.

~. .~

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Quoted in the Grove:
The most durable thing in writing is style, and style is the most valuable investment a writer can make with his time. It pays off slowly, your agent will sneer at it, your publisher will misunderstand it, and it will take people you have never heard of to convince them by slow degrees that the writer who puts his individual mark on the way he writes will always pay off.
~Raymond Chandler

Good sounds make good sense. At least we hope so. Pure style is pure meaning. […] How you say it, in the end, becomes what you have to say.
~Charles Wright

To me, the greatest pleasure of writing is not what it’s about, but the inner music that words make.
~Truman Capote


Posted from the Grove:
The discussion was active, suggestions were useful (one of them course-changing), and the decision was affirmative for continuing Wordgrove’s writing contest. The Wordgrove Prize awards the Gold Torch and the Silver Quill in three categories: Prose, Poetry, Multimedia (new this year). Winners are chosen by popular vote. If enough interest shows for returning Journal to the list, this remains a possibility

The theme will be announced by clubmail on Thurs, Jan 1st (01.01.15). Entering writers have the month of January to work on their entries; voting begins Feb 1st, and ends at midnight on Valentine’s Day. The award ceremony will take place one week later. The contest sponsor will be available for questions at the Jan 1st, Word Games. If rules and guidelines are simple and clear, there shouldn’t be many

Journal’s category was swapped out to bring in Multimedia. A mixed-bag universe sprang into being when multimedia entered the creative arena. Whatever combination of media is chosen in this new category for the Wordgrove Prize, there are a couple things to keep in mind: This is a contest for writers; it is primarily about words (i.e. illustrated poem, lyrics of a song). And, all parts of the work must be original with the writer. Also: The Wordgrove Prize is available to everyone. All are welcome to enter

Stay tuned as details emerge


Prewritten for Thurs (12/18) @6pm PT/9 ET is: Dark Angel pic



@Writers Platform
Glass Table:

~Dharma_Darla: Dharma Has Written (qif)
From 11/2/04: untitled…

Yesterday bit me hard
sinking its sharp teeth into my tender flesh
locked jaw,
and did not let go


Prewritten: The Djin In the Bottle

~Dharma_Darla:Dharma is Behind: Fun Shiz (qip)
Graffiti Master in conference with Enigma Lady
Favorite Line: First line
The enigma stigma that tried to pull the label trigga

Xmas Event
Have picture taken with SantaZombie @Dharma’s Wordified False Gods (look for the gold Buddha); check brochure for details

~Piffin: “Bathtub Djinn”
Favorite Lines: Same two lines repeated four times thru’out to good effect

I’d like to put this genie back
But I don’t think I will

~BarTalk: Advice on Buying the Lamp


 Impromptu: symmetry, coincidence

~Piffin: “Seed” (qif)

The symmetry of galaxies
And hurricanes is odd
Coincidence of nature
Or the fingerprint of God?
The space you fill beside me
Is exactly the same size
As emptiness my soul feels
When not looking in your eyes
The rhythm of the ocean
Waves breaking from the sea
A symphony the same
As leaves upon a wind-swept tree
Patterns, portions, parallels
To teach us once again
There’s always a beginning
In the seed of every end

~Jhynx: Hitch Hiker (qip)
Favorite lines: First paragraph and the last sentence

It was just a lucky coincidence that we were both moving in the same direction that night. That being, anywhere but home.

It was 2:30 a.m.

~Greymane: Ripping My Seams (qip)
Favorite Lines: 4 – 6

Riddles of reason I cannot explain
Lyrically limping through all I have been
Mythically mangling all I begin

~Greenie: A-Muse-ory (qip)
The incongruities of history summed up: Lines 1 & 2

Blame it all on circumstance
the relevance of happenstance

~Jessalee: Jessalee’s Impromptu (qip)
Favorite lines: 5 & 6, and the last line

the lake was still, save a lone leap
of a flighty fish with unknown needs

yet in that space she began to heal

~BarTalk: Christmas Wish



Writers in Residence:

~Dharma_Darla @Wordified False Gods: Dharmakins (qip)
Favorite Lines: First and last


my mind is not as free as yours

~ . ~

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