Monday January 18th, 2016

The exercise:

Write about something that has been: skipped.

Spent most of the day with Max. Unfortunately he wasn't feeling well enough to go to soccer class this afternoon, but hopefully it will work out for us to be back there next week.

Managed to find some time to bring another load of firewood to the house as well. It's getting to be a muddy, slushy mess out there. At least most of the snow has melted away.

Feeling remarkably tired. I guess that's what I get for actually working for a day and a half this weekend.


Let us be done with this excessive nonsense. It is not worth the time nor, indeed, the effort. Too much work, too little reward. I am certain that we can all agree on this, can we not?

Show of hands then?

One, two, three, four... oh, Bruce. We can always count on you to be the contrarian. Would it actually kill you to agree with us, just once? I think it might.

Fine. It does not matter. That is still four votes to one. The majority has spoken.

Tonight we are skipping dinner and going straight to dessert.


morganna said...

Hey, kids! Count off for teams now!
One, two, one, two ...

Hey, Mr. Nielson, I got skipped!
Which team should I be on?

Neither, Bruce.
It wasn't a mistake.

Greg said...

@Morganna: Ouch! I like the couplet style you've chosen here, and the way the pace of the poem changes just as the kid realises that he's been left out; and of course the whole thing reads beautifully. And I'm choosing to believe that your choice of Bruce was to synchronise with Marc's Bruce as well :)

@Marc: Well if you're that tired after a day and a half, how are you going to cope when the farm demands you work seven days a week again? I guess Max will be pulled out of school and set to work labouring for you :-P
I get the feeling that this is the way you'd like meals to go, rather than it being the actual case. Still, it's a nice little piece and the punchline is just unexpected enough to bring a smile to my face, so I'd call that a win!

The rules were simple, written in red
On the walls of the cave where bones crunched
Underfoot: Eight must gather and stand
Looking to the winds and together ask their question –
And the Oracle would answer.
The smell was old: dry rock and dust.
They sneezed, and wondered who they were inhaling.
But they shuffled places, bones kicked aside
Not looking too closely in case they were familiar
Until their feet found solid ground to stand on.
They looked out, North, North-east, East and West,
Until all eight directions were observed.
And, speaking as one, they asked their question.
Light flickered around their circle, haloing heads
In a heavenly blaze.
One by one they slumped to the ground, their souls consumed
that the Oracle might have the strength to answer.
Only one was skipped.
He trembled, skin clammy, eyes prickling, alternating
Between sorrow and terror, terror and sorrow.
But the answer came.
"The Rangers will beat the Canucks in overtime."

Anonymous said...

I've had some prompts saved in an email from one of my class days that I'm finally getting around to posting. Sorry.


It came as a great shock to her when she reviewed her document folder for the month that she somehow missed a date. It was a busy month, after all. The new job, the dog, the new relationship that had her flying on clouds; there was a lot to keep her from updating her followers on her crazily brilliant fan theories and random musings. But to miss a day? Never!

She could have simply saved it with another day's work. It wouldn't have been the first time Annie did something like that in either a moment of forgetfulness or of overthinking.

However, a quick glance at the surrounding days' entries told her this was not the case.

Had she really broken her vow of updating her blog every day?

Annie was appalled with herself. Disgusted, even. Her poor fans were left without even so much as an explanation why they had to live over twenty four hours without her words and ideas.

Marc said...

Morganna - ouch. Hah, that's a great setup. Mean, but great.

Greg - I am an old man and cannot be expected to maintain this pace of hard labour. Bring me some young whippersnappers to do all the grunt work!

'They sneezed, and wondered who they were inhaling' - good lord. That's a great line. Yucky and great.

Also: I dislike that final line. A lot :P

Ivy - hah, I can always appreciate things written from a blogger's point of view :)

I suspect a lot of bloggers are like this. I try not to think this way, as I'm usually more focused on doing this for myself. But sometimes, sometimes... I might slip in this direction :)