All posts filed under: Strange Discoveries

Instagram Creature Feature

One of my favorite Instagram accounts to follow is @rfedortov_official_account. Maintained by a Russian deep sea fisherman, the creatures he photographs remind me of many monsters and aliens that I’ve seen in movies and TV shows. Peppered in-between the creature photos are gorgeous shots of sunrises at sea.

Guess what I saw this morning? – poem for dVerse.

Originally posted on Fmme writes poems:
There was a dragon in the valley, curled like a white cat: each scale a pearl; each breath a cloud of soft white silk – ’til the whole valley was a bowl of milk – as the sun brightens with the coming day, such dragons fade. De – the wonderful WhimsyGizmo – is hosting at dVerse tonight, and here be dragons. Our quadrilles are infested with the pesky things…

The Crystal Cup

Earlier this week I wrote about a collection of short stories by Bram Stoker that I discovered at a local bookstore.  The first story in the book is The Crystal Cup, and while reading it, I was reminded of both of Jonathan Harker’s sense of imprisonment at Dracula’s castle, and Renfield’s increasingly strange behavior at Seward’s insane asylum. You can read the full story at American Literature’s website here.

The Meadow, The River, by Claire Wahmanholm

Featured on Day Two of NaPoWriMo, this poem by Claire Wahmanholm has an eerie, off balance feel that reminds me of the dream sequences in a Nightmare on Elm Street. The meadow unfolded before me,             a soft, uncrossable rot. I tore myself in two along my spine and sent half of me             into the night to see if I would make it through. Read the full poem at Poetry Daily – An online poetry anthology and bookstore, featuring a new poem every day.


Originally posted on Silent Hour:
? Rowena was hiding behind the rosebush in her garden, watching Julian through his window. He was having his morning cup of coffee. Rowena was jealous of that cup. She was jealous of anything he touched and anyone not too timid to be close to him. Rowena had been watching Julian since the first day he came to the neighborhood, about six months ago. It was his fault; he had such magnetism it was criminal. He lived opposite her, and she had caught many precious glimpses of him doing this or that. Tableaux of Julian, she called them. Julian didn’t know she existed, and that had to change. Speaking to him was out of the question, though. She would blush; the very thought made her feel a hot flash. She had to find a way to be seen and remain unseen at the same time. She locked herself in the house for a week, to think. * Julian gaped at the duchess strolling up and down his street one Monday…

Spring is coming

Originally posted on Fmme writes poems:
Old crone blackthorn has veiled her spikes in living lace, crowned herself with virgin blossom, and black cat winter has sheathed her claws. Gorse is a yellow cry on the hillside, primrose is a whisper and there’s a bird singing in every tree. De is hosting at dVerse tonight – spiking poems, not drinks! We’re quadrilling – 44 words, including the word “spike” tonight.