Writer’s Quote: For the young who want to

Writer’s Quote: For the young who want to

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Welcome to another Writer’s quote/poem Wednesday, where I share a quote and poem from some of the amazing writers I have come across through reading and listening to poetry. Today’s choice poet is Marge Piercy. High five if you have come across her works before. The poem I chose to share today is one I will recommend to my fellow writers. If you’ve ever been told writing is not a real job, and you should quit it and join the employment pool, then this poem is for you.

For the young who want to- Marge Piercy

Talent is what they say
you have after the novel
is published and favorably
reviewed. Beforehand what
you have is a tedious
delusion, a hobby like knitting.

Work is what you have done
after the play is produced
and the audience claps.
Before that friends keep asking
when you are planning to go
out and get a job.

Genius is what they know you
had after the third volume
of remarkable poems. Earlier
they accuse you of withdrawing,
ask why you don’t have a baby,
call you a bum.

The reason people want M.F.A.’s,
take workshops with fancy names
when all you can really
learn is a few techniques,
typing instructions and some-
body else’s mannerisms

is that every artist lacks
a license to hang on the wall
like your optician, your vet
proving you may be a clumsy sadist
whose fillings fall into the stew
but you’re certified a dentist.

The real writer is one
who really writes. Talent
is an invention like phlogiston
after the fact of fire.
Work is its own cure. You have to
like it better than being loved.

Writer’s Quote: To March

Writer’s Quote: To March

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Ah, and just as it came, its departing. Yes, you guessed it right, I am talking about the month of March. The quote above reminds me that as March rolls away, making way for April to waltz right in, so many people would always remember this month as the time when so and so happened. And for others like myself, it would mark the time of transition from one age/stage in life to another. Oh yes, I have officially joined the gang of 21 year olds (I miss saying I’m 20) and now, the only excuse I have left for not getting married is – I am still in university. Only one more year left for that excuse to run out. Oh and the excuse of “I’m not ready yet”, doesn’t work in Northern Nigerian homes. 

Do not mind me, and take everything I said in good humor and with a grain of salt. Below is a poem by Emily Dickinson about March, one I absolutely enjoy reading.

TO MARCH
Dear March, come in !
How glad I am !
I looked for you before.
Put down your hat-
You must have walked-
How out of breath you are !
Dear March, how are you ?
And the rest ?
Did you leave Nature well ?
Oh, March come right upstairs with me,
I have so much to tell !

I got your letter, and the birds’ ;
The maples never knew
That you were coming, -I declare,
How red their faces grew !
But, March, forgive me-
And all those Hills you left for me to Hue –
There was no Purple suitable –
You took it all with you –

Who knocks? That April –
Lock the Door –
I will not be pursued – “,
He stayed away a Year to call
When I am occupied –
But trifles look so trivial
As soon as you have come.

That blame is just as dear as Praise
And Praise as mere as Blame –

    By: Emily Dickinson

Flash Fiction: The slithering guest

Flash Fiction: The slithering guest

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“You know the drill, so let’s get moving,” ordered Big Sis, to nods and stamps of the ten year olds assigned to her.

“Batch A, head North.”
“Batch B, East, and mind the slopes.”
“Batch C, continue west and be wary…”

Whatever batch C was supposed to be wary of, nobody found out. Little Jim interrupted by pointing with trembling hands, towards the dead-beat car which had been in that forest for as long as anyone could remember.

Em, big sis“, he was saying “There’s a snake on the car.”

Big sis smiled, then said “Is that so Jim, just like there was a roach in yesterday’s dinner when you didn’t want to eat.”

Little Jim protested, joined by the other kids.

She reluctantly turned her back to the kids, to face a slithering creature on the car roof.

Big sis swayed on her feet,  before slumping to the ground with a thud so loud, it brought Big brother to the site. The kids were never more grateful to have an extra camp master.


word count: 174. This story is In response to Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writers challenge. Where, each week we are provided with a picture and are to write a  75-175 word story in it. A big Thank you to @Tim Livingston for providing us with this week’s photo.

Flash Fiction: What had happened was-

Flash Fiction: What had happened was-

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Is that bleating, I hear?” Inquired Mr. Jones, whilst gripping the steering wheel.
Silence followed his question and he attributed the noise to his ears playing tricks on him. That was until, he heard the same noise again.

I may be old, but I’m not that old. What is going on?” he demanded.
Silence again. He shook his head, and turned the ignition off to face a pale looking ten year old boy, shaking at the backseat and chewing on his lips.

“Junior?” Mr. Jones raised his brow.

“What had happened was,” began junior, stammering, the goat had looked at him with such pleading eyes that he begged grandpa, to let him bring it along.

Mr. Jones wiped his palm across his forehead and at the warmth of his wife’s hand on his shoulder, swallowed the harsh retort which had sprung to his tongue.

“Well, at least goats aren’t noisy, unlike that grandpa’s parrot”, Mrs Jones joked.

Just then, screeching and squawking noises came from the car boot. All colour drained from Mr. Jones’ face.


word count: 175 words. The above story is in response to Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writers photo prompt challenge, where each week, we are provided with a picture and are to write a 75-175 word story in it.Thank you @majesticgoldenrose for providing us with this week’s photo. 

Flash Fiction: what happened?!

Flash Fiction: what happened?!

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We queued towards the Egypt Air terminal, the air hostess’ voice hovering in the atmosphere, signifying the commencement of boarding for flight E365. Within seconds it seemed, suitcases crashed to the ground, and everyone headed towards one direction- the exit.

The counter clerks were a sight; trying to climb their way over counter tables but their skirts weren’t making it easy an easy task, which thinking back now, made for a funny sight.
We all ran, pushing, scratching and wanting to beat whoever or whatever it was making us run. It wasn’t until we were safely at a distance and out of breath that the question- “what happened?” arose, everyone looking at one another in a quizzical manner.

Long hours of interview and investigation by airport officials eventually revealed the source of the drama. A young lad, whose phone ringtone happened to be “gunshots”, rang incredible loudly and we were the chain reaction that followed. And the man who began it all, he was also amongst the panicked not knowing he was the source.


word count: 174 words. This is in response to flash fiction for aspiring writers photo Prompt challenge. Unfortunately, due to a horrible internet connection and busy exam schedules, I wasn’t able to make it in time to link my story for last week’s challenge. The internet just got back today, so since I had already written, I thought I’d share the story regardless. 🙂 Thank you very much @Dawn Miller for this week’s photo.

What Not to say to someone going through weight change

What Not to say to someone going through weight change

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I know I speak without filter sometimes, a perk of mine, and as I presume, many others as well. Needless to say, somethings shouldn’t require filter to not be said, common sense should suffice.

If you’ve ever gone through a weight change, either weight loss or weight gain, for whatever reason, then you’ve probably also been a victim of what I’m about to say.

It is so NOT COOL to greet anyone with the statement- you have lost/ gained weight. That is not a greeting; whatever happened to good morning, hi, or even hello. And when you do say it unintentionally (I’m giving the benefit of doubt here), please don’t utter those words as if you’re saying snort or something disgusting.

That being said, now to the main reason I am writing this post. To anyone who knows anyone who is going through a weight change, please (talking from experience here), one of the worst things you can say to them is- “you looked more beautiful before you lost/gained weight“. Because firstly, it is none of your business and secondly, it is none of your business.

You do not get to decide when a person does or does not look beautiful. You have no idea the reason behind the weight change or the effort put towards it. And also because by saying that, you’re endorsing the “ridiculousness” that beauty is measured in scales which is absurd in itself. 

I hope this doesn’t sound as one of those angst rant but rather something tangible. What are some of the worst things you’ve been told or heard, with regards to weight change? 

The above image is courtesy of Cranky fat feminist.

Flash Fiction: A little kindness

Flash Fiction: A little kindness

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Mike rarely dwelt in self-pity but that day was an exception. He stared at the sorry looking state of the car in front of him, blaming the kindness of his heart for ever offering to fix it in the first place.

“Not too bad eh,” a voice roused him from his shock.

Mike took a good look at the, em, “car”. It looked like something dragged out of a fast and furious wreckage and he could have sworn the car was sprouting weeds.

“Nothing a little Mike magic can’t fix,” he smiled back, getting a grip on himself, under the eager and kind eyes of the car owner.

“Here goes nothing,” Mike murmured and began. It took a few days but he did it, feeling a sense of accomplishment. The car owner was so overjoyed with the end result, the words that dropped out of his mouth were, “I cannot wait to see what you’ld do on the other two.”

Mike laughed nervously, hoping the car owner was only joking. 


Word count: 171. The above story is in response to Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writers photo prompt challenge hosted by priceless Joy. Thank you very much Mike Vore for providing us with this week’s photo. 

Flash Fiction: Progress-

Flash Fiction: Progress-

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Jeremy Abdul-Kareem Green!” A voice roared from across the parking lot, “you will not kill me before my time.”

The recipient of the intended threat, a young boy dressed in accordance with the impending storm expected to downpour any moment, stopped in his tracks. Jeremy had heard that same statement everyday of his life, he’d mastered a meek appearance with downcast eyes and pouted lips in response.

His mother sighed, then asked in a much lower voice, “what did you do this time?
He had made paper boats and sent them down the toilet.

And they sent you home for that?” She asked quizzically. Turns out, they weren’t just “a few” boats, which resulted in the clogging of the school drain.

Jeremy’s mother paused for a moment, then said, “9 days…The longest you’ve gone without getting into trouble so far,” Jeremy smiled.
I wish you’d made it to ten, but, well it is progress”.

The teacher looking out to see if Jeremy’s mother had arrived was astounded to find the duo hugging.


word count: 173. This story is in response to Flash Fiction for Aspiring writers photo prompt challenge where each week we are provided a picture to write a 75-175 word story on. Thank you very much @Jessica Haines for this week’s photo.

Flash Fiction: 4 mates, 1 tree

Flash Fiction: 4 mates, 1 tree

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James huffed and puffed, bursting into beads of sweat under the 42 degree summer heat as he and his mates tried to pull away a fallen tree which had obstructed the estate’s gate.

“Has the tree gotten heavier or is it just me?” He pondered, not daring to take a break lest he became too weak to resume pulling. Eventually, his tired part won. He dropped the rope and turned to face his mates only to realise the source of the tree’s extra weight.

His mates hands were long free from the tree’s rope and their attention was fixated on something entirely else.
Stunned and mad, James exclaimed, “wow, why don’t you just grab a seat and a lemonade each. James is here, he’ll do all the work”.

They mumbled their apologies while he headed towards the source of their amusement.
A cockfight! Seriously?“, he shook his head, “you guys are weirdos“.
Isaiah smiled, “takes one to know one”.


Word count: 157 words. This story is in response to Flash Fiction for Aspiring writers photo prompt challenge where each week, we are provided a photo to write a 75-175 word story on. Thank you very much Shivangi Singh for this week’s picture. 

Flash Fiction: To eat or not?

Flash Fiction: To eat or not?

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“Ehh, I don’t come to visit you for a while and this happens.” Aunt Bose wailed, barely descended from the ferry board. “Where did all your meat go?”

“Good to see you too Aunty,” Vivian began,

“No, don’t greet me. Turn, let me see you well”.

Vivian succumbed to her aunt’s protests, turning around so her aunt could view her properly and pretended to be oblivious to the side eye she was getting from the other arrivals.

With great difficulty, Vivian managed to draw her aunt’s attention away from her physical appearance and towards her car.

“Good thing I’m here.” Aunt Bose declared, “God forbid you return home looking like skin on bones.”

“But Aunty,” Vivian teased, “I am working to become a model.”

“Well, It better be a model weighing 70 kg because that is what you are going to be before I leave,” then she added, “70, at least.”

“You could die by eating too much”, Vivian muttered,

“And you would die if you don’t,” her aunt countered.

Vivian sighed knowing her Aunt was right.


Word count: 175 words. This story is in response to Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writers photo promot challenge where each week we are provided a picture and are to write a story on it using 75-175 words. Thank you very much Louise for providing us with this week’s image.