As it is now well into the winter season, here is a poem to celebrate it.
Winter
Everything dead.
Nothing moves.
The skies of lead
Press down on the roofs.
The icicles hang
Like teeth in the maw.
Each one a fang
In a wolf’s jaw.
The wind with his knife
Cuts through to the bone.
Soon snow will arrive
And the swallows have flown.
The trees that were green
Are now turned to white,
And everything’s seen
In a glowing bright light.
But look what I’ve found!
A tiny green shoot
Pushing up through the ground.
A snowdrop, no doubt.
It tells of the spring
Not so far away,
And how it will bring
All the flowers of May.
I hope you enjoyed reading my poem. I would love to hear what you think of it.
Do you enjoy poetry? Many people don’t, and poetry books, it is said, don’t sell very well, but I find that some of my most popular posts are my poems.
Please leave your comments in the comments box.
I am giving away an exclusive short story. You cannot get this story anywhere else, and I won’t be publishing it here, either.
It’s finally here! AKASH – P.A.W.S. book 8 – is live today!
Read a sample here:
Deep in the battlefield Akash lay. He’d been lying in the same spot for twenty years, waiting. Today was the day, he could feel it. The war raged around him. He loved the glorious smell of death and flames. He longed to be part of it all.
In September I went to Pembrokeshire in South Wales for a week’s holiday. Now Wales is not noted for wall to wall sunshine, but this year it decided to be exceptional. Glorious sunshine. Shorts and tee-shirt weather.
Because I’ve written poems about Scotland and England, I decided to write one about Wales, and to share it with you all. I hope you enjoy it.
Croeso y Cymru
Land of the dragon,
And King Arthur’s court.
Land of Myrddin
Where Magic was wrought.
Land of the Druids,
Land of the bards.
Land of mystery
Her secret she guards.
Land of song
In chapel and pub.
Land of mountains
Soaring above.
Land of beaches
Next to the sea.
Children playing,
Laughter and glee.
Land of deep valleys
Known as Cwm.
Land of coal mines
In underground gloom.
Land of the last gold
In Britain is found,
The Romans dug it
From deep underground.
Land of Eisteddfod,
Of singing and dance.
In Llangollen’s valley
The whole world does prance.
Land of the Celts.
Land of the sheep.
On her green hillsides
The lambs they do bleat.
Land of the raven.
Land of the kite.
High soaring above
In graceful flight.
Land of steel.
Land of slate,
Dug from the mountains
Our roofs for to make.
Land of a language
With beauteous sound.
But try to pronounce it
Your tongue will be bound.
Land of the daffodil
Land of the leek.
Symbols of Welshness
For those who do seek.
Land of green hills,
Of valleys and dales.
Croeso y Cymru.
Welcome to Wales.
I would love to know what you think of this poem. Please post your comments in the comments box.
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1 cup butter 1 cup sugar 2 large eggs 2 cups dried fruit 1 teaspoon baking soda 1 teaspoon salt 1 cup brown sugar 2 tablespoons lemon juice 1 cup mixed nuts 1 gallon whiskey
1. Put the butter and sugar in a large bowl.
2. Check the whiskey to make sure that it is of the highest quality. Pour 1 level cup and drink. Repeat.
Of course, if you would like an authentic fruit cake recipe,, you can always check out Viv’s Family Recipes. There’s a good one from my Mum.
Or if you have a family member or friend who likes to cook, this little book would make a good Christmas present. Click on the cover in the sidebar to go to Amazon where you are.
On the eve of Clyde’s dream becoming reality, his life will be torn asunder.
Cover Art by Alison Hunt
As his dream of peace becomes a reality, Clyde faces his darkest challenge.
With the Dawn Fangs’ existence exposed, the time for negotiations has begun. Mortal rulers and the council of Nytefall gather to discuss terms, but chaos is already stirring. It does not take long for Clyde’s dream to become a nightmare as villages are slaughtered by a Dawn Fang who is rumored to be the newly crowned Vampire King. Bodies of friends and enemies pile up as this mysterious imposter reveals why mortals should fear Clyde. Will Clyde’s final adventure see his dream of peace fail before it is realized?
The truth is more horrifying than the Dawn Fangs ever imagined.
*****
Curiosity piqued? Check out this teaser!
The Truth?
Coming to the windmill, Magrus coats his body in a protective shell and carefully climbs to the top of the broken structure. Slowly turning in a circle, he scans the area to get a full sense of the remaining magic. He ignores the auras of the guards, who are sifting through the wreckage to find more bodies. Those who have been located have already been moved to the outskirts where they are being prepared for transport. Peering down the narrow road, he can see an oxen-driven cart is getting closer and sighs at how it will not be enough to collect all of the dead. Magrus considers warning the lieutenant, but he fears it will lead to a long conversation and waste more of his precious time. He turns to where the man is helping to prop up a wall, which has crushed a family of four. Shaking his head, the Zarian climbs down from his perch and uses his staff to help him navigate his way out of town. Nothing catches his interest, but he stops momentarily to send a few more lost souls to the afterlife.
“Let us see what really happened,” Magrus whispers as he reaches the woods.
Turning back to the village, the man plunges his staff into the earth and grips it tightly to prevent himself from falling over. His eyes develop a rainbow shimmer over the gold as he wavers on his feet. Fighting through the looming fatigue, the priest lets his magical vision change from what is in front of him to revealing phantoms of the past. Transparent buildings rise back into place and ghostly figures go about their lives even though he can still sense a little of what is truly there. Magrus scowls at the sight of a black-haired figure landing a few feet away, the puff of dirt revealing an illusion covering the small crater. Within seconds of appearing, the man rushes at the town and begins destroying everything in sight. Using only his fists and feet, he breaks houses and shatters people. The attacker’s speed is almost too much for the Zarian to follow, so he focuses on examining the phantasmal carnage for clues. He spots bite marks on several necks and sees the chickens were devoured in the blink of an eye. Torches and candles are knocked over to start the fires, which explode into an inferno connected to the illusionary plume of smoke. Magrus is not sure what caused the sudden blast since the attacker had been tearing the local blacksmith in half at the time. Deciding he has seen enough, the man freezes the vision before falling to his knees from the exertion. He is able to hold the image for another second before it disappears, but it still gives him a clear view of the rampaging figure.
“This cannot be shared,” Magrus says as he takes out a piece of paper. He mutters a spell to transfer the image of a black-haired man with a corn-shaped necklace from his brain to the parchment. “It would appear that Clyde of Nytefall is not as big a fan of peace as one would believe. Yet, I still see mysteries here. The fires grew without his influence and I see no reason why he would want this place discovered. I have many questions, Lady Zaria, so I cannot purify the Vampire King until I have answers. There has never been a man or monster who has escaped my thorough investigations. This one will be no different. I swear on my goddess’s crimson hair that Clyde and the Dawn Fangs will be judged. Then, if necessary, they will be punished.”
Interested in more Windemere? Then don’t forget to check out Charles E. Yallowitz’s first series: Legends of Windemere
Cover Art by Jason Pedersen
About the Author:
Charles Yallowitz was born and raised on Long Island, NY, but he has spent most of his life wandering his own imagination in a blissful haze. Occasionally, he would return from this world for the necessities such as food, showers, and Saturday morning cartoons. One day he returned from his imagination and decided he would share his stories with the world. After spending many years fiddling with his thoughts and notebooks, he decided that it was time to follow his dream of being a fantasy author. So, locked within the house with only pizza and seltzer to sustain him, Charles brings you tales from the world of Windemere. He looks forward to sharing all of his stories with you and drawing you into a world of magic.
We all know how adverbs are supposedly an author’s archnemesis. They are to be avoided like, well, passive voice. We’re to go through our manuscripts, find each and every one of them, and kill them while crying out, “die, rebel scum!”
Hemingway has a lot to do with this, but so does Stephen King, with his famous quote: “I believe the road to hell is paved with adverbs.”
Has Anyone Told Readers Yet?
There’s only one problem with all this: readers don’t seem to mind adverbs at all. While we’re busy laughing at any author still using adverbs, enjoying the welcome feeling of smug superiority, readers are busy buying their books. Don’t believe me? Derek Haines shared his surprising findings on Just Publishing Advice. He took the time to check out the bestselling titles on Amazon and had a quick preview read of some of the top 100 books.
Would you like a free, exclusive short story? Of course you would.
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I will send an email every three months with news of my writing, and other things I’ve been up to. I will also sent the occasional freebie, too.
Dragons Rule OK. V.M.Sang (author) 