Daily writing prompts from June 9th, 2008 to December 31st, 2022
Saturday February 23rd, 2019
The exercise: Write a four line poem about: second thoughts. Mine: The Master watched the news report with concern - My list did not call for this! But Big Buddy had gone dark - he had no way To stop the rest of the hits.
Oh dear, things are already going awry for the Master and we're only at the end of February! I thought Big Buddy might be mostly on track still at this stage, but it's clear that this is going to be a difficult year for the Master. I look forward to seeing it all play out :)
Malta is having a gale over the weekend, which is nice to be inside away from :)
Right, this is probably the only chance I'll get to put all the verses together to show how the poem's progressing: after this I think it'll be too long for a blogpost. So today's addition is at the end, but this is everything we have so far:
O, Robot Madame Sosotris sniffs, the other-world Sends messages: a robot comes, but what That is escapes her. Tea-cups shatter — the Robot has no master. A shadow forms.
It speaks in Old Enochian, the lan- gauge of the angels, who also had no Words to name this beast. Misunderstandings Multiply and Chaos starts to giggle.
The Shadow has commands that must be fol- lowed, words to say and times to say them. But Madame Sosotris hears a list, a lit- any of woes — her mind is fogg’d with sleep.
“Repeat it back,” the Shadow says, “the or- der has a meaning.” Cards are drawn like knives: The ancient prophetess prefers to choose A champion so she may sleep and rest.
She deals the cards with practiced hands; three sig- nifiers stand below a Tree of Life And one atop. “Th’Occluded Eye,” she says, “The Shadow shall observe what comes to pass.”
Below the Tree the leftmost card is her With rheumy eyes and an eternal cold. The next shall be her Champion. She cuts The deck and draws. First cut: a sword of gold.
The second finds the hapless sailor. “This Is accidental,” says the Shadow, “deal Again, and choose another.” But Soso- tris shakes her head, her Champion will kneel.
The Shadow will insist; he darkens fast, His eyes grow redder and he spreads like oil. But second thoughts assail him from all sides. “So keep him,” says the Shadow, “make him toil.”
Greg - yeah, things are starting to go off the rails a little early. Probably as a result of me having no idea what I'm doing. We'll see where things go from here. Together. Because, as I said, no idea.
Thank you for compiling yours so far, it was extra enjoyable to read it all as it flowed into the latest addition.
2 comments:
Oh dear, things are already going awry for the Master and we're only at the end of February! I thought Big Buddy might be mostly on track still at this stage, but it's clear that this is going to be a difficult year for the Master. I look forward to seeing it all play out :)
Malta is having a gale over the weekend, which is nice to be inside away from :)
Right, this is probably the only chance I'll get to put all the verses together to show how the poem's progressing: after this I think it'll be too long for a blogpost. So today's addition is at the end, but this is everything we have so far:
O, Robot
Madame Sosotris sniffs, the other-world
Sends messages: a robot comes, but what
That is escapes her. Tea-cups shatter — the
Robot has no master. A shadow forms.
It speaks in Old Enochian, the lan-
gauge of the angels, who also had no
Words to name this beast. Misunderstandings
Multiply and Chaos starts to giggle.
The Shadow has commands that must be fol-
lowed, words to say and times to say them. But
Madame Sosotris hears a list, a lit-
any of woes — her mind is fogg’d with sleep.
“Repeat it back,” the Shadow says, “the or-
der has a meaning.” Cards are drawn like knives:
The ancient prophetess prefers to choose
A champion so she may sleep and rest.
She deals the cards with practiced hands; three sig-
nifiers stand below a Tree of Life
And one atop. “Th’Occluded Eye,” she says,
“The Shadow shall observe what comes to pass.”
Below the Tree the leftmost card is her
With rheumy eyes and an eternal cold.
The next shall be her Champion. She cuts
The deck and draws. First cut: a sword of gold.
The second finds the hapless sailor. “This
Is accidental,” says the Shadow, “deal
Again, and choose another.” But Soso-
tris shakes her head, her Champion will kneel.
The Shadow will insist; he darkens fast,
His eyes grow redder and he spreads like oil.
But second thoughts assail him from all sides.
“So keep him,” says the Shadow, “make him toil.”
Greg - yeah, things are starting to go off the rails a little early. Probably as a result of me having no idea what I'm doing. We'll see where things go from here. Together. Because, as I said, no idea.
Thank you for compiling yours so far, it was extra enjoyable to read it all as it flowed into the latest addition.
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