Monday February 13th, 2017

The exercise:

Write about: the artist.

Pretty sure I triple checked the blog to make sure I hadn't used that as a prompt before. Well, I did use it on a Two Haiku Tuesday, but that hardly counts.

Anyway, making use of it today. Let us see what inspiration brings each of us.

Kids health update: both boys are basically better now. Miles has a slight cough and a bit of a runny nose still, but neither seems to be bothering him much.

Personal health update: blergh.


She sat in the garden,
Paintbrush in hand,
Watching the sun set,
Again and again.
Helpless to stop herself,
Day after day;
Her canvas untouched
As the light show played.
She once told her brother
In a letter
That Mother Nature
Just did it better.


Greg said...

I don't remember having "the artist" as a prompt before, though I have occasionally written about an artist or two. So this feels new :)
Kid health update: sounds like recovery is pretty much done! Personal health update: I'm sure that's just the germs talking :-P
I want to turn your poem through ninety degrees (though it would make it harder to read) so that the long lines are line trees, forming the landscape that your artist is so stricken by. I like the beauty and faint desperation that clings to the words, and I feel like I understand her pain too. Great work!

The artist
Master Licko set the cream-coloured heavy paper down on a side-table. The table was part of his collection from last third-cycle, back when the enthusiasm for humans and human-art had been dying down and he'd felt he could return to his roots: furniture and interactive art installations. The price of humans had fallen enough by then that he'd been able to buy a crate of them and risk losing some of them, so he'd engaged a medical friend as a partner as they'd used bone-growth drugs to shape furniture. The table groaned gently as the paper rested on it.
"Martin," said Master Licko. There was a answering mandible-click from the outer office, and the sounds of the lawyer-at-arms getting up. While he waited Master Licko considered the table: the rib cage had been ossified and grown outwards to provide a suitably flat surface and the arms had been lengthened so that the hands and feet sat evenly on the floor. All in all, he felt, the only thing that could be improved was to lengthen the neck as well so that the head could be more useful -- perhaps it could use its teeth to pick things up and put them down for the purchaser.
The lawyer-at-arms came in, blocking much of the doorway with muscular bulk.
"We have a case of infringement," said Master Licko. "Someone has been injecting furniture in the showrooms with bone-dissolving acids and encouraging the furniture to flee. I think I need legal action."
The lawyer-at-arms opened a cavernous, tooth-filled mouth in the middle of its chest, and four of its arms moved about its bulk in a complex fashion, producing seven types of weaponry. There was an odious chuckle that might have conveyed pleasure.
"Good," said Master Licko. His eyes dilated as he thought about possibilities. "And bring the escaped furniture back. I wonder if there's artistic possibilities from growing, dissolving and regrowing the bone...."

Marc said...

Greg - thank you for the kind words on mine :)

Master Licko? My goodness, you are taking me on a trip down a literary memory lane! He's as creepy as ever, as is his lawyer-at-arms. Great work :D