Sarah Potter Writes

Pursued by the Muses of prose, poetry, and music.

Archive for the category “Photography”

Monday Morning #Haiku 154 — Cherry Blossom

Wedding photo shoot
Cherry blossom in churchyard
Nature obeys bride

Monday Morning #Haiku 152 & 153 — Seagull at First Light

Prehistoric shrieks…
Nightmare of pterodactyl
just a herring gull.

Rude awakening…
Seagull in hobnail boots
stomps across flat roof.

Monday Morning #Haiku 151 — Tulips (02)

Tulip sweet delight
Assortment of bold colours
Nature’s candy mix

Monday Morning #Haiku 150 — Sunbathing

This week’s haiku is dedicated to all of my blogging friends across the Pond whose skies are shrouded in grey. Sending you hugs, smiles, and spring cheer from the South of England 🙂 

Honeybee sunbathes,
double petal daffodil
its yellow lilo.

Monday Morning #Haiku 149 — Camellia Flowers

Winter hangover
Camellia shouts springtime
Instant cure for gloom

Monday Morning #Haiku 148 — Wild Daffodils

In unkempt woodland,
twigs and brambles imprison
golden daffodils.

Monday Morning #Haiku 147 — Ladybird

Hibernation ends
Lone ladybird emerges
Spring around corner

Monday Morning Haiku #146 — Snowdrops

snowdrops

Late winter snowdrops…
Virgin brides adorned in white,
their stamens veiled.

Friday Fictioneers — Snow Baby

This week I’m going to post my 100-word story for Friday Fictioneers on a Wednesday, which is what many of the other participants do anyway! Many thanks to our wonderful hostess, Rochelle, for using my snow picture as the photo prompt.

My story is an excerpt from my unpublished fifth novel, Counting Magpies, which is presently in the hands of my beta-reader-in-chief. There’s quite a bit of snow in this novel, but I selected this short passage, which works as a standalone, too … I hope.

PHOTO PROMPT © Sarah Potter

Genre: Dystopian speculative fiction

Word count: 100

SNOW BABY

I’m her scapegoat for all that has gone wrong in our world.

When she bled a fortnight ago, after three months of believing herself with child, her wailing and lamenting crushed me. I don’t understand her desperation to make a baby. Until yesterday, I didn’t even know what babies looked like.

She drew a picture of one in the snow and told me that’s how we both started out, with tiny round faces and miniature toes and fingers. “I can’t remember being a baby,” I’d said, to which she’d replied, “Neither can I, but I crave motherhood more than anything.”

Monday Morning #Haiku 145 — Wild Violets

february-violets

Shyness overcome,
violets velvet the grey
of February.

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