Saturday February 27th, 2016

The exercise:

Write a four line poem about: the inscription.

Steampunk obsession continues. For reference, imagine mine carved into a stone that my narrator encounters after wandering aimlessly through the Wastelands for two or three days.

Spectacular late morning to mid-afternoon here today. We had lunch on the deck for the first time this year, and I was wearing a t-shirt, shorts, and sandals when I went into town shortly after that.

Of course, it still gets wickedly cold in a heckuva hurry once the sun starts to go down. But my goodness, is the sun ever glorious when it's hanging out in a clear blue sky.


There is a town filled with beautiful women,
That only serves ice cold beer;
But concern yourself not with this place my friend,
For it is far, far from here...


Greg said...

Lunch on the deck sounds very nice, and seems like it might even have inspired your poem as well :) Sounds far too warm and summery for my liking, but I find I miss the snow. And the rain if I'm truthful. Still I like the stone your narrator has found, and I like the attitude of the stone-mason who engraved it!

The inscription
Behind a worm-eaten cellar door we found a plaque,
Once forged from iron, now losing a war to rust.
That marked where phlogiston seeped from a crack,
And filled our avaricious souls with lust.

Marc said...

Greg - I can just picture you taking vacations from sunny Malta to visit rainy London. You poor thing :P

Hmm, that is a troubling plaque to encounter. Or, perhaps, by the point it would be discovered the discoverers would be too far gone to care too much.