The exercise:
The topic today is a word that randomly got stuck in my head while I was out in the garden: methodical.
Keeping it simple after yesterday's bonanza of nonsense.
Here's a totally unrelated picture of our patty pan squash that I took last weekend at the market to make this post seem longer:
Mine:
You say that you're methodical,
Your progress periodical.
But you do not work in a lab,
You drive a bloody taxi cab!
So although you seem quite nice Joe,
I have to say that you're just slow.
4 comments:
So that's what Patty pan squash looks like! I don't think I've ever seen it in the UK, and I've only read about it in North-american publications, so it's nice to see it at last! What's the purple thing next to them?
And... yes, I'm sorry about your cow yesterday (if you can imagine me looking contrite, that's what I'm doing right now).
Heh, your poem made me smile.
Methodical
Process matters to Billy-John:
When he adds up, it's one plus one,
plus one, plus one... until he's done.
He takes his time and gets it right,
He starts back over if he might
Have made an error anywhere.
Process matters to Billy-John.
Marc - That's a beautiful piece, well written! I feel that it just fit together nicely, excellent connection between sentences. I like your piece as a whole :)
Greg - That's brillant! I love the way you describe how he adds up :)
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Mine:
He considers every step ahead before making a move. That usually requires high level of concentration and thinking ability to calculate properly. He is constantly searching for weakness and loopholes that he can exploit and he will take advantage of that when the opportunity arise. That usually spells trouble, Checkmate!
Marc- Much simpler prompt. I liked the poem, of course. Think you can put out your next prompt early? I'll be gone for the weekend and hate missing your four lines of prose.
Greg- Have we met? Thank you for not naming me directly.
Zhongming- Ours run a similar path however loosely. Great minds think alike!
Mine is a combination of this prompt and one from another site.
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The sound of the ocean roared in my ears as the plane raced down the strip and began ascending. I knew it wasn't the ocean itself, but it was the closest I'd heard to it since I'd been away from home. Closing my blue eyes, I let the sound wash over my soul. I gripped the seat arms more tightly. Going home after 23 years presented many challenges.
Methodically, I planned my trip. It wouldn't be good for my acquaintances or business partners to find me. Or my family. Bloodshed would be a certainty if that happened. To ensure everyone's safety, I had to create a new identity, build a life and reputation in a place I couldn't yet step foot, plan enough goose chases for them to eventually loose interest, and of course make sure there was no trail behind where I would actually walk.
I just hoped the ocean would offer me the escape I sought. It could just as easily swallow me whole.
Greg - I'm having a very difficult time imagining you looking contrite :P
Your poem has a great rhythm to it, just flows right off the tongue.
Zhongming - great take on the prompt, very well written too!
Heather - I hope that was early enough! That worked for me as well, as I need to get to bed early tonight and Friday nights tend to get pretty busy.
I like what you did with the prompt. Definitely something that could be expanded upon should you find the inspiration :)
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