Thursday March 9th, 2017

The exercise:

Write about: the replay.

Not quite as busy at the bakery today, which meant stuff to put in the freezer at the end of day. But there were enough people coming and going that I was quite behind on cleaning by the time I locked the door, so I didn't get out of there until after five.

Hopefully things will be a little more efficient tomorrow.

Also: it snowed. Again. Sigh.


Slow it down.
Let's go
Over it again...
Watch closely now.

Maybe it's a goal?
Or, well... maybe not.
There are more angles?
I want to see all of them!
One of them must show the truth...
Nineteen thousand fans await my decision.


Greg said...

Have you tried putting the snow in the freezer so it's there when you want it in summer? You seem to be missing an opportunity to stockpile here :)
I really like the clever acrostic you used today; it adds an extra depth to the poem. I also like the way the lines lengthen as you progress, implying a certain slow-down and a more meticulous approach -- the physicality of the poem is very present and excellently done. I might think of making the second line "Let's just go" in order to make the line length a little more consistent, but that's only a suggestion. (Oh, and speaking as a regular spectator, the referee rarely takes this much care at low levels!)

The replay
The garden is always quiet in the mornings. There are butterflies flickering around the rhododendra and there is a ginger cat slinking through the shiny green leaves of the shrubbery at the back, probably looking for some unsuspecting bird. The grass is still wet under bare feet, the sun has not reached across the lawn to evaporate the dew yet, and there's a fresh smell as though it rained last night-
Reset, replay: The garden is always quiet in the mornings. There are hummingbirds hovering around the rhododendra, transfixed by the scintillating patterns of light and shadow. The internet of things has spread to the plants and the infection is ever harder to root out. There's a robocat slinking along by the fence, its whiskers shimmering as they take in radio-frequencies, hunting for gaps in the electromagnetic forcefields-
No clouds in a perfectly blue sky, just like yesterday. I remember hearing that we were at war with... someone. I can't remember who, it seems like it doesn't really matter. Well it wouldn't, not now it's ove-
Reset, replay: The sky is grey except for the ugly red gash across it. They say it's not actually a rip in the sky, they say it's just the invasion fleet up in space using light of those frequencies for communication. There's no rain because there have been no clouds for six months now. Drought is endemic. There's a buzz as the robocat pushes through a weakspot in the forcefields and escapes to another garde-
The children are getting up, I can hear high-pitched voices and the clatter of feet on the outside staircase. Soon it will be time for breakfast, and a discussion of what they hope to learn from school today. But there's still a moment of peace in the solitude of the gard-
Reset, replay: The children died early on, attacked by some virus or other. It made sense: kill off our chances to reproduce, and then it's just a waiting game until we die or kill ourselves. We build robochildren now, a petty solace as we senesce. The hummingbirds buz-

Marc said...

Greg - ah, stockpiling. I shall have to remember that one the next time we get unwanted snow.

Thank you! And I think you're quite right about the second line - well spotted (and corrected).

This is fantastic. You did such a great job interweaving the two realities(?) and contrasting them as well. Really enjoyed this, even with the darker alternate(?) reality pushing through.