PERSONAL POST: The Appreciation of a Writer

Hi fellow Writing and Education Enthusiasts!

It has been quite awhile, I must say, since I have published a post that is not a Poetry or Prose piece. With this realisation in mind, I decided to make this post as another warm THANK-YOU to all those who have chosen to follow my journey as a writer.

One of the commonly occurring phrases is ‘Thank-you for caring about what others have to say’. To this I respond with, are we not all common human beings? Do we not all have some form of heartache, struggle, passion, strength and love? In a world forever changing, with each having a life of decisions and obstacles, why not band together and aid each others growth as successful beings? Indeed, I hope you all feel that my site is a space for sharing ideas and respecting opinions.

Do any of you have a theme request for a poem, prose or different written form? Perhaps you even request advice or aid? Feel free to express your thoughts.

Sincerely Jody

~ If you desire to write, do not refer to yourself as a to be Author, proudly call yourself a passionate Author now! Even if you are yet to be published, do not lose hope.

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PROSE: Unseen

Unseen

The surface glistens as the vibrant rays caress the shimmering water. She looks out and feels the warmth of the sun and the coolness of the heat’s cure that her feet swishes lightly in.

She can hear the trickling of the water manoeuvring amongst the smooth rocks, and the rustling of the leaves, as chirping creatures glide with wings catching the tangy air waves.

She smiles a sad smile, a longing smile, as she repeats her wish quietly to herself. She thinks back to her fifth birthday, when she blew out all the candles. The cheers from her loved ones was confirmation that she was successful at this.

In that moment she had made a wish, and this was the very wish that she now repeats to herself; just like she has on every birthday since that first instance. She closes her eyes and breathes deeply in, listening, always listening, to the world around her.

She opens her eyes and lets out a slow breath of private sorrow as the world remains the same. She will never see the water glisten, or the lush green of the leaves, nor the softness of the birds’ feathers as they play freely in the sky.

She will never see the sparkle of the sun, or the beauty that she has now become. She will always have her enhanced hearing and imagination, though, and through a life of blindness, this will have to do.

This will have to do.

 

By Jody Dontje

~ My first published attempt at a prose form. Thoughts?