A very psychedelic impression of conception. source:

A very psychedelic impression of conception.

When you think of the word conception, what do you think?

Does your mind become a buzz of plans and plotting? Or does it go to something a little more sexual  in nature? 



  1. The action of conceiving a child or of a child being conceived.
  2. The forming or devising of a plan or idea.

What does this have to do with things today? 

The meaning is twofold. I was in the process of conception myself (haha not the making of a child – that’s just wrong on too many levels to be mentioning that on my blog!) I was referring to some new story ideas, plots and characters coming into existence. I am hoping to share these guys with you at a later date 😀

Then, later after I’d jotted down my new ideas, I was having a read of some of my previously written work and I stumbled across this little gem. It was MEANT to be the opening scene of a story attempt. I even had characters picked out too, but I’ve since decided that those characters will be better suited to something else down the track, and the original story idea has been put on hold – likely indefinitely. After deciding to chuck the story, I entered this as it is, into a competition online. I can’t remember much about the competition now, clearly I didn’t win… one would hope I remember more about a comp if I actually placed right?!

Anyway, this led me to thinking about what it’s like to re-read your work a while after you’ve written it and coming back to it with fresh eyes. I quite like the imagery in this piece, what do you think?


Naked bodies writhing as one, flesh against flesh. Molten desire flows freely from each and every pore, mixing reality with the world of dreams and desires. Fingers trace down a spine, toes curling. Moans mingle together with sighs of ecstasy creating a symphony of pain and pleasure that reverberates around the room.

A tongue wets swollen lips before they enclose around soft flesh, teeth nibbling and tasting. Enjoying the sheer bliss of the closeness of him, she loses control. Can’t get enough of him, her nails run down his naked back, then down his chest. Teeth bite slowly into him. Blood.

Lips caress the soft delicate flesh of her breast, sneaking a taste of her darkened nipple. Fingers exploring her skin, sending shivers racing up her spine. Her hands entwined in his hair, face contorted in pleasure. His lips and hands are bringing her to climax even before the love making has begun. Caressing hands run across her hips, bringing hers to his, becoming one.

His soul is poured into hers. He becomes one being with her, giving her the strength he held within for so many long winters. She takes all he has to give and more, turning him inside out, causing him to feel the most exquisite pleasure and pain in one instant. Moving together, trying to climb inside of her, he pulls her to him, closer. Closer still.

She releases him and he her. Souls beared and weeping, they cling together between the love soaked sheets.

Tell me about what little gems you’ve found when revisiting some of your old work in the comments below.

Saint Patrick’s Day 2013

Sunday 17th of March 2013, saw me witness my first Saint Patrick’s Day without my grandfather. My beautiful grandfather passed away in November last year and it’s been a tough few months since we had to say our goodbyes. This day, a day usually for celebrating and getting rather inebriated, instead filled my mind with sorrow and fresh pain.

I'm not this cute when I cry... Credit:

I’m not this cute when I cry…

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I want to dream

I want to dream of him.

I want to know that he’s ok, that there is something after death.

To see him animated and alive

To get to say goodbye one more time

To feel his love

To see, not just remember his smile

To watch how his eyes twinkle

I want to dream of him.

Not just remember him and miss him.


We all miss and love you Grandad.

Set adrift on the wave of emotions

I hate this crazy ‘I’m-not-in-control-of-myself’ feeling.

A perfect example: The other day when hubby and I were driving, the sweeping golden grasses in the farm paddocks near the road out past the winery and on the way to the shops made me cry… freaking craziness!  I don’t even know why, it’s not like Grandad ever let his paddocks get like that, they were always well kept because he had cattle.

I dunno. It’s strange…

Sometimes I’m perfectly fine. I miss him, sure, but the pain and sadness is ok, it’s manageable, it’s not overwhelming. Other times it’s like being suffocated. Continue reading

Longing for one more day

When we lose someone we love, it seems that time stands still.
What moves through us is a silence… a quiet sadness… A longing for one more day… one more word… one more touch…
We may not understand why you left this earth so soon, or why you left before we were ready to say good-bye, but little by little, we begin to remember not just that you died, but that you lived.
And that your life gave us memories too beautiful to forget.
We will see you again some day, in a heavenly place where there is no parting.
A place where there are no words that mean good-bye.
Continue reading

I am still here…just.

Fret not loyal readers. I am still here. I am just snotty nosed, bloodshot eyed and floating in the swell of grief.

What were you doing at 3am this morning? I was sleeping while my Grandad took his last breaths.

I got to say goodbye on the weekend, but it doesn’t barely start to mend the ripped and bleeding hole in my heart that he has left behind.

I will be back (probably) next week, once I have again resumed control over my waterworks, my vision is not wobbly and my face is not so tear stained.