Singing the Dying Mark

Sing the Dying Mark

G.L. Snodgrass

She rose from the depths of hell

Chasing me thru the night

From her golden hair fell

A sickly, deadly light

Her horse of the dark fairy folk

Nothing but steam and pitch

Black as Newcastle Coke

Carried the screaming bitch

Banging upon her silver shield

Seeking her old lover

Someone for her to yield

Craving someone to cover

Away she cried, gleaming sword in hand

Away, for all you that lack

Heed my merry band

For I am coming back

Charging, leaping across the air

Her flaming eyes ablaze

Come, my one true fair

Demons we will raise

They followed, her demon hoard

Scratch clawing back to life

Followed her flaming sword

My dead, conniving wife

I died that night

A thousand deaths of hurt

Running from her light

Buried beneath the dirt

My loving wife turned against me

She searches for my soul

All who see her will surely flee

Clawing thru the coal

Hell hides me from her screaming cry

Cowering in the dark

Forever will they fly?

As I sing the dying mark

Something for Nothing

What do Vegetable Gardens, Fishing, Poker, and Writing have in common? They all provide something for nothing. Or at least seem to.

Like that first day of spring when you start turning the soil, writing a story starts out fun.  It’s full of high hopes and wonderful expectations. Nobody should ever sat down to a poker table expecting to lose. Nobody plants a vegetable garden expecting the plants to die before harvest. A writer should never sit down expecting to write a clunker of a story. They become self fulfilling prophecies.

Every fishing trip I have ever been on. I didn’t know how it was going to end up. A boat full of trophies or skunked. Didn’t know what I’d pull up from under the water. That anticipation and surprise when something new appeared at the end of my hook was exhilarating and one of the main reasons I went fishing. It is the same reason I write.

I find it interesting that my four favorite hobbies all have so much in common.