The exercise:
I just want to say a quick thank you to Laura Jayne for picking my silly little cat poem for her Exceptional Writing Award for last Monday - I shall wear it on my blog with pride. I'd also like to say: go check out her beautiful writing prompt blog, Pictures, Poetry & Prose.
Last night I finished reading John Connolly’s latest book, The Reapers. He’s one of my favorite authors and I highly recommend that you check out his Charlie Parker series if you like… oh, I don’t know, good writing? It’s sort of a detective, occult, supernatural mystery line of stories. That is full of excellent characters and gripping storytelling. So if that sounds like your thing, get started with Every Dead Thing.
Anyway, today’s starter is oh so appropriately: the reapers.
Mine:
The sun beats down on the fresh cut field,
The men gather ‘round the season’s yield;
Sweat dances with dust to become
Passing scars of bounty hard won.
The afternoon air is heavy
With quiet talk of new levies;
Soon the maple leaves will change hue,
And they will take the rest they’re due.
3 comments:
I like your reapers poem, there's a real sense of the satisfaction you get after a hard day's work there! Today I'm going to offer up a pantoum (since I've only just discovered what one is!):
A handful of grain held in his fist
Pearlescent like barley or rice
Wrapped up in paper and given a twist
And I'm warned to watch out for mice.
Pearlescent like barley or rice
Are the eyes that watch me, afright
And I'm warned to watch out for mice
I walk off. There in the night
Are the eyes that watch me afright
I clutch my grain tighter and still
I walk off. There in the night
Is a mouse the size of a hill.
[I should say: a reaper is a very old word for a handful or sheaf of grain, and a pantoum is a poem where the second and fourth lines of one verse become the first and third lines of the next.]
Hope you like it.
g
The sickle slices
against the ripened wheat.
Grass of life falls
row upon row.
Back breaking work
that tears at a soul.
He stands, stretching;
body’s grown tight.
He looks to the west
the sun descends
lower and lower still.
Night will come
before the work is through.
_______________
I thank you for the lovely mention here for PP&P. I loved your kitten poem, thought you captured that mighty hunter feel of the photo wonderfully.
I enjoy the challenges of your prompts. So nice to share writing in this way.
Greg - that's freaking brilliant! Attempting that sort of thing would give me a seizure or something... so I'll most likely be trying it soon.
Laura Jayne - I loved the ending to your poem, just something very poignant about that last line.
I'm glad you're enjoying it here and I'm really liking using pictures as writing prompts - you've got some truly lovely pictures over there.
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