The exercise:
I've begun the task of writing the 1,000 word stories I promised to those who donated $50 or more (and those international donors keen enough to go the extra mile to contribute) to my diabetes fundraising efforts. One down, four to go.
You can find The Gift of Fire, the story I wrote for my parents, over at my dust-covered Creative Outlet. I'll be posting all five of the stories there, as long as I get permission to do so for the person I'm writing the story for.
This one ended up as a children's story and I'm hoping to make each one completely unique. I know the next two will be very different at least. Anyway, each day that I post one of the stories I'll be using the three words I was provided with as the writing prompt over here. So, in essence, they're getting a story and a poem out of the deal.
So, courtesy of Mom and Dad, today's prompt is: love, understanding, thoughtfulness. I'm not sure if the form of poetry I used has a name or not (I'm looking at you Greg) but if it doesn't I'll be happy to claim its invention. It was pretty fun to write.
Mine:
You can't understand a love like this,
Like this your brain is not meant to twist,
To twist in ways which are not quite right -
Quite right you are to give up this fight.
I rarely comprehend my thinking,
My thinking often feels like sinking,
Like sinking into murky waters -
Murky waters mixed by witches daughters.
But I am content to drown in you,
In you I know I've found a love so true,
So true that it makes all others fade -
Others fade next to your siren serenade.
2 comments:
I haven't read the Gift of Fire yet, but I shall make time during work today to pop over and have a look. I'm pretty sure I'll enjoy it :)
I don't know that the time of poem you've written has a specific name, so here's your chance to name it yourself! I like it though, the repetition gives a sinuosity that adds resonance to the first couplet.
Love, understanding, thoughtfulness
I'd name you in Greek, but you wouldn't care,
You'd just think harder about my motives.
I'd paint your picture on the chapel wall,
But you'd just light more of your votives.
I'd offer you my heart, still beating in my chest,
And you'd tell me you understand,
I'd save you from falling off the edge of a cliff,
But you'd just let go of my hand.
Hmm, I'll have to name it another time. I'm too sleepy to give it a proper name right now. And I hope you enjoy the story, I had quite a bit of fun writing it.
I like the rhythm of your poem and those last four lines in particular have a lovely, haunting flow to them.
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