Saturday January 9th, 2016

The exercise:

Write a four line poem about: roommates.

Because we recently started watching New Girl online. That's pretty much it for inspiration today.

The snow continues to slowly melt. All the roads other than our little cul-de-sac are clear now, so it's just a matter of getting out of our driveway and up a slight hill to the stop sign before it's clear sailing.

It may surprise some of you to discover how much of a challenge that can actually be.

Reminder: yearlong prompt, the 2016 version, begins tomorrow.

Hint: I wrote the first opening, Greg took care of the second, I did the third. Seems like we might be due for someone else to start us off, hmm?


He's wearing my socks
Because all of his were dirty.
Now he's with my mom
And getting really flirty...


Greg said...

I can remember from when I was a child that even a small incline, the kind of thing you could walk up in 30s, can be trouble for cars in icy weather. Without grip, you're not going anywhere :)
I was wondering if you were going to make good on your suggestion, a while back, to find someone else to come up with the year-long prompt, and now I'm wondering who you picked. And what they came up with. So my guess for today, based on it not being you is...: War is brewing in fairyland as the good king of the goblins, Fel'ch, has died leaving a throne contested by squabbling heirs, all of whom want to make a grand statement as to why they would be the better king. And brewing is literal: the association of red, white and blue witches are mass-producing potions, some of which have odd side effects, and no-one seems to know why, or what the witches want. Into this mess is thrown a plucky young Canadian girl whose mother enthusiastically attended a fairy orgy sixteen years ago and whose father might be... anyone.

All I can say about your poem this week is that your socks clearly shouldn't be worn by anyone else. Ever :)

When the prison officer said 'roommates' I thought...
I thought there would be lines, demarcations, privacy.
The rules and harmonies that make it possible to lock us up –
Without murder. So, tell me: why are we sharing a bed?

Anonymous said...

Wow, to both of your poems. Just. Wow. (don't fret, it's a good wow)


There’s something strange about her,
How she sneaks to her room at dawn
And refuses to open her door ‘til dusk.
Maybe Craigslist wasn’t the best idea?

Marc said...

Greg - seriously, totally writing this down for future use.

Ugh, that is one place I would not want to be sharing a bed. Top of the hell no list for sure.

Ivy - hah, thanks :)

Ah, yes... Craigslist. No, I suppose it probably wasn't the best idea in this case :D