Thursday May 17th, 2012

The exercise:

It's been six weeks since the last time (yes I checked the archive... yes I was out of ideas for writing prompts), so let us have another go at the Random CD prompt.

To review: pick a song as randomly as possible (YouTube, iPods, and radio stations that stream online are all excellent options) and use its first line as your own (giving credit where it belongs), then take it from there. Poetry or prose, whatever your imagination chooses to work with.

I just spent the evening planting potatoes and am quite tired of digging holes at the moment.

Mine:

Michigan Left - Arkells

Driving to work today, I had the radio on, tuned in to one of them talk stations. Lord knows I wasn't listening to none of that junk they call music nowadays. If you ask me, anything made after Sinatra quit crooning ain't worth hearing. Gives me a headache just thinking about that racket.

Anyhow, I was stuck behind some idiot who was taking the speed limit signs a little too literally, so I didn't need to pay much attention to the road. If some sort of accident or emergency befell Mrs. Featherfoot I'd have had a good two hours to react to it.

Right, so these two yahoos on the radio were talking politics. Not my favorite subject, but it was helping to take my mind off The Great Snail Race in which I was an unwilling participant. From what I could gather, our nation's fearless leader had done something stupid. Again. The way people seem to be thinking these days, that's a surefire way to get re-elected.

Seems to me we should just keep these weekly transgressions quiet. Maybe play up (or heck, even make up) some screw ups by the opposition. That might actually get them enough votes to have a decent run at the top spot next go around.

That ain't a half bad idea, actually. Maybe I should have my own radio show. I could be agreeable to that sort of thing.

As long as they don't force me to play any of that newfangled noise they're calling music these days.

3 comments:

Greg said...

Isn't life just a series of holes that we all keep digging? ;-)
That's quite an amusing take on the prompt, I like your cantankerous narrator. Especially as he takes his idea through to its conclusion.

A Million Reasons – Stellastarr*

When the shadows washed away I was painting larger ones, brush in hand and palette holding only shades of grey. The sun was bright above, yet the day was still cold, and I wanted to be sure there were still secrets left to hold.
And secrets need shadows to live in.

The rain kept falling, a soft, warm downpour, and in the distance a woman was calling, crying that she wanted more. I dipped my brush and painted the sky, but the sun wouldn't dim and I couldn't see why.
And secrets need shadows to live in.

I moved on across brightly-lit summer's grass, leaving footsteps on the wind that faded as I passed. Shadows bled from every brush-stroke, billowing around me like crematorium smoke.
Because secrets need shadows to live in.

Morrigan Aoife said...

12 Stones - Crash

As I lie here tossing in my bed
I think of all the things you said
Promises made in a forgotten past
A relationship I thought would last

You went and broke my heart in two
Causing more pain than I ever knew
A fragmented mind shatters within
While thoughts border on mortal sin

Just keep your distance from the house
And do not tempt a deranged spouse
There’s no repairing what you’ve done
But I’m growing fond of this loaded gun.

Marc said...

Greg - well, there's certainly a lot of digging going on, it seems to me.

So many excellent images in your poem. Really enjoyed where you went with that opening line.

Morrigan - wonderfully done, I particularly enjoyed that final stanza.