Day 17: January Mindful Writing Challenge

dusk by photoshooterSky pressing down – darker than the land,
Ash grey rests eerie on white.

F. E. Clark

We’re on the seventeenth day of the January Mindful Writing Challenge – please post your small stone in the comments below.

If you’re not already signed up, our 31 Days of Waking Up daily email package was designed to accompany you during this (or any) month of mindful writing. Keep writing!


Image: AttributionNo Derivative Works Some rights reserved by aphotoshooter

Comments & replies

71 thoughts on “Day 17: January Mindful Writing Challenge

  1. Angela

    unable to sleep despite the sound of rain outside. normally acts like a sedative but not tonight. troubled about something in the depths of my mind.

  2. Brinda

    golden hues
    on the line of buildings–
    crunchy bites in the front row

    loud and hushed
    the smell of fresh oranges

    greetings fly
    in loud smacks —
    the terror of the school bell


    1. Rosy Bremer

      Stark, dark naked tree. Bare branches outlined against warm glowing orange sky. Afternoon in winter, at a bus stop going to collect my daughter after a day at work.

  3. oakhart

    Feet caressing the velvety moist grass,

    She sighs,


    As the weight of the world,

    Slips from her shoulders,

    She takes flight.

  4. Satya Robyn

    strands of spider-silk join the tip of the fern’s leaf to the plant pot. cleaning away webs always feels mean.

    Keep writing all – you’re doing good!

  5. Daphne Radenhurst

    Sweet comfort,
    Two paws on my chest,
    Soft breath on my cheek.
    I put out a hand
    To stroke his smooth, silky coat,
    A purr in my ear,
    Early morning communion.

    Michou would like to say hello to Snoezy!

    1. oakhart

      Did reply to this Daphne but it seems to have disappeared. Think its really atmospheric, and such a good friend and protector you have as a petx

  6. sue

    That rare moment, just before dawn
    between shifts, silence settles on the mountain,
    and only the brook burbles softly
    while the moon makes silver ships
    of clouds scudding across an inky sky.

    January 17, 2014

  7. H. V. Lehtinen

    It’s still winter.
    Janus-like the world
    its past its future
    almost split in two
    good and evil
    — why must it be seen so?
    Ice breaks can be mended
    only when
    the edges of the two opposing pieces

  8. Asher

    Light brushing feathers,
    Graves littered with shreds of soft paper,
    Polite mouths pressed into bows of pink,
    Lilly stems crushed tight in fists.

  9. Linda

    A lacewing insect on the fly screen. It will lose those long, delicate wings before it dies. Such a short life.

  10. Maaike Klaster

    Woman wearing pink, leaning out of window as if
    on a summer’s day, even though it’s cold,
    moving her head sideways, looking at passers-by.

  11. JulesPaige

    a tanka:
    new location
    unnoticed feeder
    still full of premium seed
    waits for calling birds
    where they there – just out of view
    I heard them sing morning songs

  12. Nonnie

    While I was aking a short respite,
    my needful cat
    crawls up to me,
    and places his paws on my chest,
    Then feeling safe in the haven
    of my heart beat,
    he closes his eyes and purrs.

  13. Carol A. Stephen

    Jan. 17, 2014

    Is all thought formed
    from an internal spark, or
    does the outside world
    also have its say?

    I wonder whether grey sky
    seeps into my thoughts,
    creeps like snow through crevices
    under my window, colouring my day.

    Does Rilke’s writing on death
    add its tinge of grief to my own,
    as I mourn the passing days
    and long for summer?


  14. John S Oliver

    Nod to Nature

    Around the edges of the large parking lot they planted small trees.

    I appreciate this nod to nature in the sea of asphalt.
    It is refreshing to see these living organisms in the midst of all the manmade buildings.
    The sterile steel, glass and concrete are so unlike these living and ever changing plants.

  15. larry p

    Tom splays his feathers,
    either hoping to scare us off,
    or else hoping to impress
    the six members of his harem.
    After a bit, he deflates,
    pecks around a bit,
    then with another half splay
    gives notice to move on.
    The haremettes cross the road,
    one . at . a . time,
    heads bobbing forward and back,
    in rhythm to their steps,
    much like the head of my son’s bass player
    used to bob in time to their funk music.
    His nickname was chicken neck,
    but obviously, turkey neck
    would have worked as well.
    As they cross the yard
    on the other side of the street,
    heading toward the woods beyond,
    some pause to sample
    abundant bird-feeder droppings.

  16. Kathy Nguyen

    late last night
    I wrote a letter
    to my future self–
    the weight of my dreams
    more poised than the depth
    of my tears

  17. SM Jenkin

    a river of fire,
    leading down from the
    dormant grey
    chimney; the windy snakeskin glare
    reflecting the sun in scar
    tissue. left from internet cables
    replaced years ago;
    fringed in water. shimmering
    blinding gold

    until the moment the dew heavy clouds
    draw in: the new patchwork tarmac, red and black,
    Adder sharp, grows to replace the glare;
    I find my keys

  18. Dave Conley

    Empty coke bottles strewn inside
    Dirt encrusted plates
    Lamborghini waits menacingly for next adventure

  19. Pookie

    All was dark until
    The just past full
    Moon rose between
    The heavy clouds
    And shone briefly
    On the loch
    I thought of
    Honesty seeds
    And Mum

  20. Patricia

    My eyes race across this page
    looking at the Small Stones
    reading the words
    faster and faster
    ’cause there’s still a lot to do.

    Then I pull up the brake.

    Why am I using
    this very fast
    rading highway?
    That’s not what
    Small Stones is all about.

    I slow down and
    take a deep breath.
    Now I’m on
    the rural roads:
    reading, understanding
    and enjoying the words.

    My body relaxes.

  21. Hajra

    You could be in a room with a hundred people around you
    Still you can feel alone…
    Yet if you are in a room filled with a hundred books
    You could never feel alone…

  22. Nicole

    I would love to live on an island…
    Beaten by the wind
    Salt on my lips…
    Ears filled with the sound of the waves
    Breaking against the cliffs, running along the beach…
    What am I doing here close to Paris ? ☹

  23. Lizzie Carver

    Before his haircut, Barty dog slept at full stretch.
    Tonight, neatly shorn, he curls into a heat-conserving comma
    And I cover him with a blanket

  24. Joan

    #smallstones 17

    I think

    Therefore I am not –

    I become


    even to myself.

    I am not –

    and yet

    here I be.

    1. Daphne Radenhurst

      Can’t see the connection, but reading this I remembered I had left the bath water running. Found the bath full to the brim, only the outlet had stopped it from overflowing. I only came to write my small stone, then I got caught up in all the others. How mindful is that?

      1. Jo Beall


        The haiku posted was taken from my blog which featured 2 water pictures taken in the gorge and one was WATERFALLS – maybe you were hearing the rushing of the water from the video that was also in the post…

  25. Nina

    Looking through rails
    in the vintage clothes shop
    I am transported back in time
    to my own teen-hood
    when all of this was still retro
    but could be found in my own wardrobe.
    Shopping at the Rag Market
    and in charity shops
    for a fraction of the cost.

  26. Pamela Niles

    all these chores
    these little duties that
    right now not later
    they keep me upright
    through the day
    into the night
    breathing heavily
    making me feel
    lots of other stuff.
    All this busyness
    when examined
    has the same substance
    the same insubstantial reality
    of soap bubbles
    blown into the air
    rising up,
    drifting drifting
    or maybe they are
    the kind of bubbles
    formed in boiling water
    rapidly swirling
    furiously existing
    until they pop
    and are gone
    gone gone.

    Where do they go after they pop?

  27. Nerissa

    Veins are highways,
    Emotions rush like passing cars,
    Doppler shifted roaring.
    Glittery blood,
    Raw, scraped
    Crash and burn.

  28. Julie Gengo

    Collapsing People – #smallstone
    Day 17: January Mindful Writing Challenge

    Collapsing People

    Shopping lady gone
    Sidewalk naked without her
    Delicious apples stacked up
    Collapsing people stop the music

  29. Rosy Bremer

    Sun on glass doors, sliding slowly apart. Doors opening. A building like a lipstick in the sky. Today the sky is blue and the trees are brown. Some pale brown and golden.

  30. NanLeah

    Sudden sun break evolves grey clouds to delicious periwinkle, consecrating rain’s steady tattoo. The landscape is ignited. Diamond rain prisms.

    Rainbow heart.

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