Monday April 29th, 2013

The exercise:

Write about: the element(s).

The day off was much appreciated. Back to work tomorrow.

If you're interested in hearing the inspiration for what follows, feel free to click here.


He's had a hard knock life,
He's been periodically tabled,
Forced to fit inside a box
And then callously labelled.

Transported hither and thither
Within thick-walled cars,
Either as a coin in a chest
Or hanging out in bars.

Whether worn on suntanned wrists,
Hanging heavily off sagging ears,
Or squeezing wrinkled necks,
He draws shouted plaudits and hissed jeers.

Wars have been waged for him,
Fools sacrificing both young and old;
All for the glory and honor
Of this precious, precious gold.


Greg said...

That first stanza is superb! The rest of the poem is pretty good too, but the first stanza is better still. I really like the second line.

The element
Element n. From the Greek eleemosyary via Sanskrit (I'd reproduce the chicken scratchings here but it's not like any of you would know how to pronounce it) and then somewhat mangled in a game of Chinese whispers played periodically at the offices of the OED.
An element is anything freely given that tastes of lemons. And I don't care what your other dictionary says.

Greg said...

Oops, typo in the only word that no-one would know! It should be eleemosynary, sorry about that.

David said...

There was a certain element that the Barber loathed. The people who took and kept everything for themselves, leaving nothing for others. The Barber had spent his life taking from them, very often taking their lives.

Today, he sat above the beach. Watching her. With him. The man with the white speedo. The blonde watching the man with adoration.

The Barber opened the case by his feet.

The two frolicked on the beach. Dancing drunkenly. Too much wine, too much sun, too much passion. Ill taken passion.

The Barber removed the scope first. Looked through it. To see her. To see her soft, lightly burned skin. The tan lines. There like always. He watched how her bikini lay tight against her curves, nearly bursting as she shimmied across the sand. The Barber watched.

He moved the scope to the man. Sweaty. Oppulent. Corpulent. The man maintained a full head of hair. Less than the Barber’s perfect hair, but not disastrous. The Barber watched the man slovenly grope the blonde, not caring who watched. Not knowing who could see everything. The Barber lined the man up in the cross hairs. He smiled. Knowing. He could take the man at any time.

Marc said...

Greg - thank you! Yeah, the rest didn't really live up to the promise of the first. Makes me want to rewrite it...

Ah, I have missed your definitions. Thanks for this one :)

David - the Barber returns! You guys are spoiling me this week :D