WRITER’S COMPETITION
Okay writers, sharpen your wits and pens – it’s FALL WRITING COMPETITION TIME. I will put up a small prize for the winner, but haven’t yet decided what it’s going to be. As soon as I do, I will tell you and post a photo of it.
The rules are simple: no more than 500 words (and believe me, I will check that they don’t go over! lol) and must be a true story, not fiction. It can be a true story of something that happened to a friend, relative, so long as it’s non fiction, it will be fine.
Submissions should be made to the WRITER’S GROUP on this site.
This competition starts today (October 8th) and will end October 31st.
I hope to get lots of entries and keen participation for this event.
Happy writing everyone!
Jojo
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Sounds great Jojo. I have just been thinking recently that I should try some contests and writing groups (where writers critique each other’s work and encourage each other). I have become a little discouraged regarding my writing and want to improve my skills. If you don’t see my entry soon, nag me until I submit it. 🙂
Is it the writing content that counts and not the punctuation. I don’t know my semi-colon from my asterisk.
Blinker, you’re funny. I love it!
To Aunt Jennie
A Whitewashed farmhouse on a hill
around it beauty quiet and still.
At the door a woman stands
with iron grey hair
and careworn hands.
Dressed in black from head to toe
her light blue eyes with kindness glow.
The comfort of the oil lamp’s light
as slowly creeps the inky night.
The pitter patter of the rain
falls gently on the window pane
The embers dying in the grate
All is quiet the hour is late.
The morning comes I wake from sleep
Around the farmhouse room I peep.
From the corner the loud “tick tock”
of the ancient friendly grandfather clock.
Above the fireplace brasses gleam.
A side of ham hangs from a beam.
From outside the sound of clogs
clucking hens and barking dogs
Chirping sparrows in the trees
Moo-ing cows and hummng bees.
The clatter of the milking pails
The postman’s bike on the garden rails.
From the farmyard children play
Laugh and tumble in sweet smelling hay
Their happy chatter fills the air
Full of life and free from care
There is happiness all around
in sight and touch and every sound.
The evening comes I lie in bed
a soft warm pillow at my head
I watch my Aunt as she stands there
combing out her long grey hair
Years have gone since her youth was gone
but she has a beauty all of her own.
Again I know I never will
see the Farmhouse on the Hill
(Every word of this poem is true – could only pay tribute to my beloved aunt in this form. Hope you approve)
Lovely poem …I loved reading it ! 🙂
JoJo, I forget, limit one story per chatter? TY, Helen