“Robin Hood’s First Theft” (Poem)

A short narrative poem by Alyssa Wright about Robin Hood’s first attempt at thievery.

The time had come when
Stealth was now an order,
thought from whom cannot be said.
This was the test,
Would he be able to put into practice
all that he had prepared?
The archery was surely safe,
no contest to be found.
Sure-footed, strong, senses heightened,
He was ready for the job.
Up a wall,
In a window,
Past the guards,
Through the door,
Reach under the pillow,
Grab the key,
Run out the door, down the hall,
Turn the corner,
Unlock the vault,
Steal the treasure.
Before the night was gone,
the treasure was no longer in his hands,
Having been delivered through the windows
of the houses of the poor.


This narrative poem was originally written in January 2015.

If you like this, be sure to check out my other poetry, in the Poetry blog category, and subscribe to my blog! I post every day, and lately I’ve been posting a lot of poetry.

“Stomach Flu” (Poem) I & II

Two poems I wrote in January 2016 about having the stomach flu.

These poems were written on January 11 and 12, 2016. I am not currently sick.

Part I

I’m feeling better,
but not great.
I’m still feverish
and have a headache.
But my stomach
isn’t killing me,
and I won’t puke,
Which is an improvement.
Now I’m able
to sit up comfortably
though I’m hoping soon
to take more medicine.

Part II

I thought I was better,
but it seems I was wrong.
My stomach is sharp-edged,
and my headache’s a throb.
I may not have a fever,
which is something, at least,
But I didn’t eat lunch
and I can’t afford sleep.

January/February Giveaway! CLOSED

The January/February giveaway to win Alyssa Wright’s writing.

I ran a giveaway in November and December last year, and meant to start one for January. This time it will be ~6 weeks, ending February 27 to announce and deliver prizes February 28.

Entries can be gained on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram.

Prizes are:

  • coupon codes for Inside a Writer’s Head (all)
  • a pdf/epub of the preview and bonus content for Inside a Writer’s Head (1/10)
  • a pdf/epub download of The Diary of Kaashif Sarwan (1/20)
  • a free commission or critique (1/40)
  • a pdf/epub of Inside a Writer’s Head (1/60)

I will use a random number generator to draw the winners. Every entrant will win something. There are no losers.

How to enter:

Follow me on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram.

On Facebook and Twitter you have to like and share the giveaway post. I will then message you your entry number as confirmation.

On Instagram, you have to like the post and tag two people in the comments. You can get another entry by sharing the post to your story. I will message you your entry number as confirmation.

On my blog, like and reshare this post, either on WordPress or social media. Comment below with the link to your post and why you want to win.

Life Is What You Make It

I frequently think about my life, what I want to accomplish, what I’ve done so far, and how long I have to do everything I dream of. This will be a series featuring things I’ve written about such things, both poetry and prose.

Ponderings and Purpose

9 January 2018

It’s enough for them to assert

that this, too, shall pass,

that nothing here will ever last

And saying so is absurd.

For how could something finite

outlast that which is eternal?

But that for me wasn’t the

question but the answer.

For how can anything we’ve

ever done outlast a world

that’s just begun

after we’ve left it, gone,

all traces erased,

all paths equal, the same.

A life lived —

regrets and mistakes aplenty,

sure, it’s the same for ev’ryone.

There’s no reason to waste time

pining after a time

that may not come to fruition,

that may be entirely fiction.

We can’t know for certain

but we all love certainty,

so we create it.

Our assertions are flawless,

arguments misguided.

We’re all trying to make sense

of this life we’re all

so lucky to be living

on this wet rock in a

deep vast space

with other rocks and balls of gas

co-existing along with us.

Why are we here?

we wonder,

How are we here?

we ponder.

Sometimes you have to let

all that go, all those

big questions for philosophy

and live in the moment

because this life is the only one

we know for sure we’ve got

and wasting it, letting it rot,

we should be ashamed.

We should live life to the fullest,

not in the sentiment of YOLO —

which justifies stupidity

but for a focus and drive

to make the most

of what we’ve got

because in too short a time

it will be gone.

Past Poems (July)

All the poems I have here were written in July in previous years. Each is the first poem I wrote that July. I had wanted to share poems written on July 3 specifically but there were none.

[The last poem contains mentions of suicide.]

The Time Was Ripe

12 July 2015

The lack of inspiration that has brought me here today,

is reeling and pealing away my skin.

The time it has taken to come so far,

for half a month to pass,

seems far longer than what it was,

And yet too short for it to have been another year.

Nothing is making sense as it swirls through my brain

in a jumbled, hectic mess.

As my readers, you may have noticed, but if not

do not be alarmed,

I’m still writing, still plotting, still mentally involved.

Most of my best poetry

never reaches the paper,

A shame, really,

but true.

 

Shapeshifter

15 July 2016

I know not who I am

But who I make myself to be.

I know not where I hail,

‘Cept I lived among the sea.

I stay the same, but not in how they treat me,

My form shifts, and that is how they greet me.

Even thought I have not changed at all,

They do not realize ,and that will be their fall.

 

Long Awaited Meeting

18 July 2017

I wondered what she thought

as my life was on display.

Would it be for naught,

My suicide that day?

I longed for her to hear me,

so I joined her on that side.

Now that she is near me,

WIll my time, she bide?

The colors of this world we’re in

Were painted on for show,

But can you hear me o’er the din,

as the mem’ries around us flow?