Wednesday August 10th, 2011

The exercise:

Let's go with: the drawing.

I'll admit that mine might have been inspired by Greg's style of writing.

Spent most of today rototilling the walking paths in the garden, so still no extra energy to take care of comments. I swear I'll get to them!


Miss Darnwell moved silently about the classroom, like a rain cloud determined to block out the sun at every possible angle. The children didn't dare look up from their task, black, grey, or brown crayons choked between their pudgy fingers.

"Five more minutes," their teacher suddenly announced, causing several students to snap their drawing instruments in half. The more determined among those used it as an opportunity to draw with both hands.

When time ran out, Miss Darnwell called for the drawings to be placed on her desk. Damien, her pet rottweiler, eyed each child with open hunger but remained perfectly still, unleashed as he was.

He could afford to be patient, for he knew that the student judged to have created the worst piece of art would be served up as his dinner that night.


Greg said...

I have no idea what you mean by "my style of writing", or how that piece could possibly be inspired by it!
I do like the steady build-up of detail you put into the story though, and the tension grows nicely all the way through. The kids using both hands to draw with made me laugh as well.
And I'm very pleased to see someone taking good care of their pet dog :)

The drawing
April is the cruellest:
Month after month she draws the names,
Each written in India Ink on ivory plaques,
From a bag she stole in the Levant.
(An angry shopkeeper pursued her for miles,
A footrace between anti-heroes,
Where the prize smelled of wet horse
And was threadbare.)
The names that are drawn are called aloud,
And men's faces, already grey with anguish,
Fall further still. They stand reluctantly
And shuffle to the door where April stands
To usher them into the wastelands.

Anonymous said...

I like to draw,
I really do,
I'm not that good at it,
Are you?
Drawing makes you use your imagination it is fun and funny. Once I drew a weird picture of my dog sticking her tongue up her nose.

That last bit is true! ;)

Anonymous said...

Marc your one is scary... I like it.

WolfRider5/6 said...

I'm really good,
I'd draw every day,
I really would if I could,
I'd rather draw than play,
I have my reasons,
I like to draw,
I draw diferent things in different seasons,
I can't draw on my door.
This was random

Azza said...

The Drawing
We need to know what the clue is immediately! Bob said demandingly. Apparently this painting holds all the secrets of the world and all of the government’s vulnerable points."I don't know how one little painting can hold so many secrets". Bob said. The painting was 1 metre wide and 1.5 metres high. There had to be some way of finding the secret opening to get the secret papers. Bob and his team were clueless on what way to get it out. The brains of the team Alex, said, "The frame of the painting is made out of diamond plating moulded into this position". Suddenly the clumsy guts Clef tripped over a rock from their super secret hide out and knocked the picture of its wall. Thud! The picture fell on the floor making a thud. Suddenly, the wall started to creek and before they realized that the painting was even on the floor, the wall had turned around revealing a secret golden key. Bob picked up the key and slotted it in the man’s mouth of the painting and it clicked open a secret compartment. Finally they had all of the world’s secrets and now they could rule the world!
The End

asdfghjkl 5/6 said...

I changed my to asdfghjkl 5/6


Kraxpelax said...

My art:



I said: "The theologians really know
their topic; are these people smart like eighty-
one people quite like you together, so
just do like me and pray and trust them, Katie,

their knowledge adds to a tremendous mass
of safe and very holy gravitation!"
– "Oh yes?" said Katie, "What if all that jazz
is very simple at the final station

what do you say? I don't want to be rude
not even really to oppose your mission.
But tacitly this concept may include
an untold power, that's my slight suspicion,

I mean, that Truth was never too complex –
You may say 'God'; the real thing still is Sex!"

My poetry:

Single Swingle


Algorithm of Being

To live reactively, responsively, creatively, as an artist, act the way your life forms the best possible narrative, like a novel or a film, towards Death, End of the Story. According to Heidegger, Life is what Is. Sorge. Being kind of your own God? Primacy of Aestethics over Ethics.

My philosophy:


Et ma poésie...

Un orage nocturne illmuna maintenant l'Amazonie, franchis les Andes, envoya des jeux de cartes gigantesques et frappantes en bas à la Pampa –

Puis: petit déjeuner à melon; café fumant !

À la bague du cigare tu lis, étonné: GÉOGRAPHIE.


In Totenstadt kann Nichts wachsen,
Nacht bebaut die grüne Bezirke.
Wache, Kind, wache!
Es kommt ein Mann zum Haus.

Es läuft das Gerücht um schwarze
Schein von brennende Schächte.
Wache, Kind, wache!
Er öffnet die Tür zum Zimmer.

Das Mond der Nachkriegszeit fällt
seine Auge über allen Gärten.
Wache, Kind, Wache!
Der König hat er gestürzt.

Deine Atemwende wird leicht als Tod
und Erwartung in der Himmelskapelle.
Träume, Kind, träume!
Dein Vater ist immer bei dir.



Reciprocity! You do me a favor promoting YOUR blogs on mine.

- Peter Ingestad, Sweden

Watermark said...

Marc: Really liked that although I shuddered at the ending! Great imagery :)

Greg: That was lovely! It took me somewhere else far away.

Here's mine - a bit of free verse:

The Drawing

Circles in the sand
beckon, notions of a faraway land,
elevations made out to be,
more than what the eye can see.

A picture of perfection may it be,
dawn or dusk at sea,
a point where water meets sky -
drawn with a line in mind's eye.

Canvases speak different languages,
casting away the bandages,
intonations in a heart riddled with drawings,
from life's many a sowing.

Mad Man5/6!!!!!! said...

It was this massive painting on the wall of the museum of art, it was so big that it could fill up my bedroom. But the picture was just scribble, it had blotches of yellow and splotches of red, it turned out just to be a massive painting of scribble.

LittleBro 5/6 said...

The drawing is beautiful and it has got lots of colours. I bought it from my local shop and now it is hanging in my room. I can draw but deffanitly not as good as who ever drew this drawing.

avartorman5/6 said...

the drawing

it has coulors and swirls but it's not ment to have a picture but a mood it changes any time i look at it from happy to mad from sad to glad and that is why i like my drawing wich i hang on my door for everyone to see!!!

this is a slightly abstract peice of writing

madness5/6 said...

Drawings can be big

They can also be small

They can be scribble

They can be portraits

But all in all they're great

madness5/6 said...

I like your new name asdfghjkl5/6

WolfRider5/6 said...

Well my best drawing is the one I made of medusa last year

Ruby said...

Colourful, beautiful and realistic
Blue, purple and yellow
Though not even there, it was a beautiful... Drawing

Denin said...

Scribbles on an open range,
reminescent of my thoughts estranged,
attempting in vain not to desire this power,
to strike another man and drive him down like a tower.

Tremendous momentum rides with the quarterback,
my mind draws upon the joys
of all my past sacks.
But I left football behind to continue my dream,
to open my emotions to the musical stream.

There's no good metaphor to snagging a pass,
leaping over the corner and tearing the grass,
Even in practice I'll miss the drills repetitions,
football has always been in my definition.