Saturday May 16th, 2015

The exercise:

Write a four line poem that begins with: The night after...

Screw it, couldn't resist the link to yesterday's prompt.

Had a pretty reasonable market this morning. We brought 14 crates of tomato plants and sold just under 8 of them. All the rhubarb went as well, but I didn't pick all that much of it.

Regardless, it was nice to be back. Hopefully next weekend we'll have the first of our raspberries and strawberries to bring with us. We just need a hot week to get them ripe and the forecast, with a projection of 24s and 25s ahead of us, seems to be in agreement on this one.

Mine:

The night after you left,
Escorted by Death,
I contemplated life...
Then picked up my knife.

3 Comments:

Greg said...

That sounds like a good enough start to the season, and I'm not surprised all the rhubarb sold; that's tasty!
That's quite a short poem too, and it sounds like something terrible is going to happen. But knowing you, it's not going to be any kind of straight-forward suicide and might not be suicide at all....

The night after
'Tis the night after Christmas, and all through the house
Everybody is comatose, even the mouse.
Tryptophan dreams fill everyone's brain,
And here's a surprise, Santa's coming again!

[I had to cheat on the prompt very slightly in order to get the familiar poem to show through properly, but I think you won't mind.]

ivybennet said...

Oh boy! I wonder what's going to happen! And Greg, yours is quite something too!

The Night After:

The night after I said it,
The bed felt so cold and lonely
As to mark my grave in which
I would forever lie alone.

Marc said...

Greg - I hadn't really decided what the last line meant, to be honest. But I'm leaning toward vengeance, rather than suicide. But who knows...

I do not mind. In the least. Well worth the twist on the prompt for that poem :)

Ivy - oof, this one's a solid punch in the gut. Can really feel the emotions behind this one. Nicely done.