The exercise:
Four lines of prose about: the poet.
Reno work continues - today we began putting up the inside trim on the windows, and Kat put primer on pretty much the remainder of the walls that still need painting. Tomorrow there will be more window trim work and getting the bathroom closer to completion and more painting.
Haven't done any writing yet. It'll be interesting to see how it goes, now that word count doesn't matter - it's just all about moving the story towards completion. I'm reasonably certain it's not going to happen before the end of the month. Blargh.
Update: day twenty-six. T'was nice writing without worrying about how many words I'd cobbled together.
Update: day twenty-six. T'was nice writing without worrying about how many words I'd cobbled together.
Mine:
He sits at the window, rhymes and metaphors tumbling together in his mind. They form beautiful images and powerful lines as they coalesce into the most important poem in the history of the written word. With excitement racing through his veins like cracked out rabbits, he picks up his pen and prepares to fill the blank page with his genius.
7 comments:
Oh, excellent! Really like that, Marc.
An arduous four lines of prose. The poet stumbles through the field of words like sticky briars latching onto ankle socks. The only sign in sight reads: Writer’s Block. "Field of Daisies for frolicking poets -- pffffshaw!" thinks s/he.
Marc - coalesce is such a great word! I like your piece as a whole and your last line really surprises me :)
Allycatadventures – great to see you again! How’s your headache by the way? I hope you’re all well! And that’s some interesting thoughts about the poet that you’ve written :)
The Poet
Whenever he sees something, he had the urge to pen it down right away. He imagines and tries to create a sense of feeling that could be moving enough once people read it. He tries to make it alive, colourful, positive and mindful. He wonders if anybody knows how to appreciate it...
Do you reckon that you'll have the cabin winter-proof by Christmas then? I have to say, you've done an awful lot of work on it since you moved out there, I'm very impressed.
I love the cracked out rabbits :)
@Alleycat: are those lines of prose arduous for you or your poet? Well-described in either case.
@Zhongming: I mean this entirely as a compliment: I think your writing has really improved since you joined us here! Today's piece is wonderful, you always try so hard to bring things to life.
The Poet
He struggles with spondees, and his trochees today seem meaningless. His iambs and dactyls get confused, and every time he tries to write, it turns out pyrrhic.
His scream echoes round his freezing attic garret venting his frustration.
And now he has a start, a first line, for all it is a scream.
Allycat - thanks very much :)
'... like sticky briars latching onto ankle socks...' <-- like that a lot.
Hope your migraine has moved on - I know how much those suck, I used to get them regularly.
Zhongming - I think Greg is quite right, the improvement in your writing is clear :)
Greg - the plan is to be living there before Christmas and that seems, at this point, attainable. We'll see.
A scream as the first line of a poem seems like a fine idea to me.
Greg, Marc - thanks very much. I thought the two of you and all the fellow blogger of this blog are really fantastic. I love reading different kinds of input with the same prompt! It's just wonderful and seriously without you all, I'll be total loner just like Tom separated from Jerry :p
Marc - I lucked out this round. The migraine moved on with a night's sleep. They're killers, I tell ya, killers, rendering me barely able to recite my name, never mind create a poem! :)
Thanks for feedback to all.
Post a Comment