She pines for her lost dreams

A villanelle for the Secret Keeper’s writing prompt. The words are (with the odd synonym)


Sailors Take Warning

The red-striped sky is full of dreams,

Tomorrow’s stories yet untold,

And hopes that grow in silver beams.


Above the ocean, white cloud creams

In frosty blue and glacier cold,

The red-striped sky is full of dreams.


Bedecked in silk, the full moon seems

To pour a balm of pure white gold

And hopes that grow in silver beams.


Yet in the darkness sorrow streams,

For wishes lost that grew too old,

The red-striped sky is full of dreams.


That I could find hid in the seams,

Some unspoilt rose that might unfold,

And hopes that grow in silver beams.


For love is never what it seems,

Desires can be bought and sold,

The red-striped sky is full of dreams,

And hopes that grow in silver beams.


Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

25 thoughts on “She pines for her lost dreams”

      1. If you want that link, meet my eldest daughter (not a serial killer herself as far as I know but very very interested in their deeds and what drives them)

      2. I’m 100% with you on this. My husband tried to take me to the local flea pit to watch ‘L’étrangleur de Boston’ because he thought it was ironic that it was showing when we arrived here. I suggested he go on his own. He didn’t. We stayed in and watched ‘Waking Ned’ instead. I needed to feel I had married a man who appreciates the harmless rather than one who thinks there is wit to be had in serial killing.

      3. We maybe all have a degree of morbid fascination with the depths of depravity, but where we differ is how much we want to know about it. If you can read or watch graphic descriptions of awfulness that really happened and not feel sick/turn it off there’s some little sensitivity button that you’re lacking.

      4. Agreed. But then I can’t watch fictional horror without getting upset so I probably err on the highest point of whatever the sensitivity scale is.

      5. I don’t think I’ve watched a ‘scary’ film all the way through since I was about fifteen. I have popped my head round the door when my little cherubs have been watching some terrible thing involving people being chopped into little pieces, slashed into little pieces with razor wire, having their throats torn out by crazy Japanese girls etc etc. The effect nowadays is not horror, but the fou rire. They are just so ludicrous I fall about laughing and have to be pushed out of the room. But that’s not real. In any case, the more of those plastic, head nodding American Barbie and Ken dolls who get chopped into oblivion the better.

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