The Prompt: Write A Piece Using The Words “Dancing With My Wild Flowered Heart.”
That’s a knuckleball dipped in lavender honey.
A few days ago, I returned to the Medium publication KTHT (Know Thyself, Heal Thyself), checking in with the inspiring Diana C.
During the last month, I focused my writing on a few different projects. First, I worked to the conclusion of a fantasy-romance novel, attending to the summer fiction challenge series from Vocal media and reading as many pieces from other authors as possible.
This all fell into the scheduling of traveling across Canada to her East Coast province of Nova Scotia, my wife’s home province, with her large family, stretched from end to end.
All the visiting and my wife’s demand that I be socially available and “not weird,” along with beach days and fishing, has taken a toll on my reading and writing time.
I presume, like most writers, even when time at a keyboard is limited, thoughts and words in my head are not. One of the great inspirations for that mental exercise has been through KTHT, and the fact is, I miss exploring those prompts and the self-reflection they instigate. So, I took a look at the prompts to start off August.
If you happen to be a feathery soft, tender-hearted woman, then perhaps it’s not such a big challenge. But for a late ’40s, heterosexual, born and bred mountain man? Well, it’s a doozy!
The prompt: Write a piece using the words “dancing with my wild flowered heart.”
That’s a knuckleball dipped in lavender honey.
Can I stretch that far?
As I stamped the punctuation onto the end of that sentence, I looked up, facing the window in front of me. I was walloped with the wondrous beauty of a brilliant sunset. Grabbing my phone, I dashed outside and snapped a pic. Now tell me synchronicity doesn’t happen. Tell me the world isn’t beautiful.
I love small moments of perfection.
It’s the beginning of dancing with my wild flowered heart, and beauty is the melody; the notes come from authors.
When I read the thoughtfully enchanting words from Jessie Waddell blending colors on the palate with hues of romance, strength, and feminine friskiness, the opus begins.
A crescendo of cues can come from poetess A. N. Tipton who delivers chills with single lines like the rapid strokes of the string instruments.
A pirouette of prose slips across your body like the thrilling dip of a tango fashioned from the heroine stories of Danielle Loewen
Lifting the emotional crest to the sounds of joy are delivered from the oft surprising and constantly refreshing humor and honesty penned from Lindsay Rae Brown
Then, when you feel the creases of a long-held smile across your face, you ease into the gracefully poignant conclusion from the words of Kelli Sheckler-Amsden
The dance is done, the orchestra is hushed. You are thrilled and pleased, satisfied while selfishly wishing for a little more. You’re separated from an identity. You just are, and you wonder how?
The frequency resonates into your bones and the maestro that pulled back the curtain? Diana C
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