Wordgrove Post & Review

Quoted in the Grove:
Men are often capable of greater things than they perform. They are sent into the world with bills of credit, and seldom draw to their full extent.
~Horace Walpole

Your voice dries up if you don’t use it.
~Patti Page

Use the talents you possess, for the woods would be a very silent place if no birds sang except the best.
~Henry van Dyke

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Posted from the Grove:

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Prewritten for Thurs (12.14) @6pm PT/9 ET is a Theme: Sometimes it’s better not knowing

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Prewritten: prissy, ultimate

~Papadruid: Slow Quatrain Coming

They called her miss prissy
Her speech, was soft and hissy
But her mouth, was perfect so
She always delivered, the ultimate “O”

~

~BarTalk: Post Office Poster

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Impromptu: fishhook romance

~Piffin: Hardly even me

I know you didn’t ask for it
In fact, you don’t ask much at all
But we stood
Hand in hand
Long enough for us to fall

Bloodletting made me tender
Bloodletting made me tough as nails
But your kiss
And your bandage
Taught me it’s okay to fail

Caught by this fishhook romance
Tangled in this tender line
We swim
And believe
Maybe we still have some time

Maybe we still have some time

~

~Greymane: Fillet

She set off on her fishing trip with findin’ men in mind
She’d caught her limit years ago but all of them declined
She rowed her boat to stay afloat through whirlpools and squalls
She found the shore had more in store the more the siren calls
She cast her line just one last time and snagged him in the pants
A fresh fillet near got away from fishy hook romance

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~MissMerry: MM Impromptu

Bumping along the bottom…
I carry my soul in a cup
recovering from a fish hook romance
I wonder where and how I fucked up

The road seems paved in shards of glass
the destination close at hand
but I can’t go forward or backward
So barefoot and bleeding I stand

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~BarTalk: not-a-ku

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Quoted in the Grove:

Nobody reads a mystery to get to the middle. They read it to get to the end. If it’s a letdown, they won’t buy anymore. The first page sells that book. The last page sells your next book.
~Mickey Spillane

Those big-shot writers could never dig the fact that there are more salted peanuts consumed than caviar.
~Mickey Spillane

If you’re a singer you lose your voice. A baseball player loses his arm. A writer gets more knowledge, and if he’s good, the older he gets, the better he writes.
~Mickey Spillane

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Posted From The Grove:

Creative Writing: Course Example

Ancestry, version one:
John Smith, horse thief, sent to Montana Territorial Prison 1885, escaped 1887, robbed the Montana Flyer six times. Caught by Pinkerton detectives, convicted and hanged in 1889.

Spin Doctor, version two:
John Smith was a famous cowboy in the Montana Territory. His business empire grew to include acquisition of valuable equestrian assets and intimate dealings with the Montana railroad. Beginning in 1883, he devoted several years of his life to government service, finally taking leave to resume his dealings with the railroad. In 1887, he was a key player in a vital investigation run by the renowned Pinkerton Detective Agency. In 1889, he passed away during an important civic function held in his honor when the platform upon which he was standing collapsed.

From archives, revived by, Deb Baddorf (A.W.A.D.)

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14 Words That Don’t Mean What You Think They Do, with Anu Garg
https://www.inc.com/minda-zetlin/14-words-even-the-smartest-people-get-wrong.html

This article opens the opportunity to give thanks again to those people and organizations that this editor uses in producing Wordgrove’s Post & Review.

A.Word.A.Day ~ Nation’s number one site for word (and quote) lovers
Wordsmith.org

ThinkExist.com ~ Quotes

GoComics.com ~ Comics

Rusty’s Electric Dreams ~ E-zine
ElectricDreaming.com

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http://wordgrove.com/twitter.jpg

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Prewritten for Thurs (12/07) @6pm PT/9 ET is: prissy, ultimate

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@Writers Platform:

Prewritten: Short story using 2 of 3: bombast, opulent, robot

~BarTalk: Thus, It Began / Clean Air Act

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Impromptu: ku on – cricket

~Piffin: “Cricket”

That cricket.

It won’t stop.

It reminds me of summers. When things were easy.

Somewhere outside. Its song slow, the way of crickets in autumn.

It distracts me.

But it does nothing to help me wipe the blood off the kitchen floor.

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~Greymane: untitled

Cricket singing symphony upon his ragged legs
Promised light her destiny the more her sorrow begs
Danced a distant memory through where the vision dies
We punished dreams for all the mean obscene unfounded lies

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~MissMerry:  ku

Crickets chirp til dark
Moonbeams show the nighttime fog
cold mornings go silent

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~BarTalk: ku

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