Always fascinated by the English Language’s ambiguous antonymy and synonyms, I stumbled across a strange anomaly in grammatical prose. Having a fond love for poetry and wordplay, the connection of metaphor and contradiction between phrases can paint a myriad of different pictures for the reader. Art leaves watermarks, the stains are ingrained though sometimes I feel it lacks penmanship, the lead rubbing out and the ink smearing the pages.
Growing up in a small semi-rural town of Caboolture, I found my feet at the base roots of the mango trees that were set in nearly every backyard. Coming from a poor family, we lived on welfare and went to public schools. A fond memory of starting school for me was counting the white lines through the rusted holes, with my siblings. Whilst riding in an old blue Datsun sunbird on the way to school, I spent my early years mastering the craft of painting and decorating and pressed on to do a bachelor’s degree in creative writing. I’d be tickled pink and proud as punch if you enjoy my first of many writings to come. Small beginnings often have large endings.
Wrydart Series – Book One
A Little NovelWrydartThe wand weaves the wordsmith’s swordsmanship, whisking the elements to prefix a door. I befouled “e” and the quilling in inkling, as wood swells and wells the stager for the sills’ ledgers. Throw the wry dart down the strands of discord – what wands knead the strings,...
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