Action Resolution

January is the time to contemplate the year ahead and many make new year’s resolutions. I looked back at last year and I wrote a poem about my thoughts on the New Year and my own resolutions. It’s interesting to look back and see what was in my mind a year ago, before COVID. Life was so brilliant back then, if I’d only known it. 

My new year’s resolution,

As I contemplate new beginnings

Is to worry less about the execution

and just accept my loss or winnings.

Life’s too short to hesitate,

to feel vulnerable, give in to fear.

To stand paralysed until it’s too late,

Before you know it, you’ve lost another year.

So, don’t make idle promises

That you don’t intend to keep,

Just resolve to be more active,

For what you sow, you shall one day reap.

Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 04 January 2020. 

I have included the following word prompts:

https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2020/01/04/resolution/

https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2021/01/01/resolution-2/

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2020/01/04/rdp-satuyrday-new-beginnings/

https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2021/01/03/brilliant/

FOWC with Fandango — Vulnerable

50 Word Thursday #8 – Resolution and Vocation

Debbie Whittam has set a challenge to write a poem or story in 50 words, or multiples of 50 up to a maximum of 250 words, inspired by a picture and include some particular lines. Here is the picture.

 

05-07-18

From Terry Brooks The Elfstones of Shannara

This story uses the Character of Miss Huntley, who I created in an early story, see here:

https://talesfromthemindofkristian.wordpress.com/2018/04/08/the-toad-and-the-tigress-a-short-story/

Here we see Miss Huntley as a young girl, receiving an experience that set her off on her future course…..

Here is my story:

Resolution and Vocation

Mr Gladding sat at the front of the class looking through his spectacles at the girls all writing away at their own desks. The scratching of the pens was a sound so familiar to him, as was the smell of those old oak desks and the chalk hanging in the air. He was an educator of the traditional Victorian mould.

Elizabeth Huntley put down her quill and sat quietly. Mr Gladding, or Cladding as the girls called him due to the substantial amount of insulation that he carried around his middle, was staring at her again.

Mr Gladding straightened the papers he had been marking.

Then he pushed himself back from the reading table at which he had been seated and rubbed his eyes wearily.

“Pens down girls. I wish to ask you something. What did I ask you to prepare for me to mark?”

Several hands went up.

“Yes, Miss Finchley?” Mr Gladding smiled, though his smiles were just a show of his teeth, like that of a wolf.

“You asked us to write an essay on the War of the Roses Sir.”

“Quite right. Why then, Miss Huntley, have you written me a Sonnet?”

Elizabeth Huntley froze. She had been overcome by the story of the princes in the tower and had written a Sonnet about their plight.

“For not following my orders, come here.” Cladding commanded, raising his metal ruler.

Elizabeth Huntley resolved one day she’ll become a teacher and she would never punish a child’s creativity.

 

Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 05/July/2018

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