The exercise:
On this, the final day of 2013, write two haiku about: the passing of another year.
That would be me realizing that on Tuesdays I don't need to put specific labels on the prompts (I just tag them with Haiku Prompt), so I am free to use long, wordy, unwieldy things for writing exercises.
I will try not to abuse this new knowledge.
Happy New Year to all of you. I hope 2013 was a good year for you, and that 2014 is even better. Thanks for dropping by this blog as often as you do, however often that may be. Your support and comments are always appreciated.
Mine:
One more year slips past,
and as always much too fast -
it's not meant to last.
* * *
A new day, new year,
new you? Just by putting up
a new calendar?
Monday December 30th, 2013
The exercise:
Write about: caution.
I was back at work this evening for the first time in two weeks. It was a bit of a struggle at times, but overall it was good to get back into things. Spent most of the night in the bowling alley, which was definitely a plus.
Still plugging away on the comments. Hoping to catch up, or at least get very close, tomorrow.
Mine:
The highway is littered with warning signs, urging drivers to slow down, keep their distance, watch out for wild animals trying to dash across the asphalt. Many of the signs are battered and bent, most sit atop posts that twist and turn in every number of ways.
It is not just the road itself that brings tidings of doom for new arrivals. The ditches on either side are like parking lots for abandoned cars. If a vehicle is in need of a spare part, locals come here before visiting the nearest wrecking yard.
Assuming, of course, they are able to get in and out without incident.
They still try, despite all of the warnings. Despite all of the evidence on display that the ghosts that rule this road are best left unchallenged. No soul has ever reached the end of this stretch of highway.
That will never stop them from trying though.
Write about: caution.
I was back at work this evening for the first time in two weeks. It was a bit of a struggle at times, but overall it was good to get back into things. Spent most of the night in the bowling alley, which was definitely a plus.
Still plugging away on the comments. Hoping to catch up, or at least get very close, tomorrow.
Mine:
The highway is littered with warning signs, urging drivers to slow down, keep their distance, watch out for wild animals trying to dash across the asphalt. Many of the signs are battered and bent, most sit atop posts that twist and turn in every number of ways.
It is not just the road itself that brings tidings of doom for new arrivals. The ditches on either side are like parking lots for abandoned cars. If a vehicle is in need of a spare part, locals come here before visiting the nearest wrecking yard.
Assuming, of course, they are able to get in and out without incident.
They still try, despite all of the warnings. Despite all of the evidence on display that the ghosts that rule this road are best left unchallenged. No soul has ever reached the end of this stretch of highway.
That will never stop them from trying though.
Sunday December 29th, 2013
The exercise:
Write about: grace.
Today I'm aiming for less yabbering and more commenting. Gotta get caught up somehow.
Mine:
No one has every claimed that I move with grace. Comparisons are more in the league of elephants and hippos, not swans or gazelles. That's fine, though. I don't mind.
I have other qualities. Ones that more than make up for this supposed lack.
There's a lot to be said for intimidation and fear. Even more that can be accomplished with both on your side. The effort on my part is minimal, really. I just use the gifts my genetics have bestowed upon me. I don't need to practice for hours on end just so that I can dance, or play piano, or whatever those suckers have to do in order to get a girl to look their way.
Me? I just walk into a room. Game over.
So why does everyone think that I lack grace? Why doesn't anybody realize it's those pipsqueaks that lack size, strength, brutality? Man, who the hell needs grace anyway?
Not this guy, that's for damn sure.
Write about: grace.
Today I'm aiming for less yabbering and more commenting. Gotta get caught up somehow.
Mine:
No one has every claimed that I move with grace. Comparisons are more in the league of elephants and hippos, not swans or gazelles. That's fine, though. I don't mind.
I have other qualities. Ones that more than make up for this supposed lack.
There's a lot to be said for intimidation and fear. Even more that can be accomplished with both on your side. The effort on my part is minimal, really. I just use the gifts my genetics have bestowed upon me. I don't need to practice for hours on end just so that I can dance, or play piano, or whatever those suckers have to do in order to get a girl to look their way.
Me? I just walk into a room. Game over.
So why does everyone think that I lack grace? Why doesn't anybody realize it's those pipsqueaks that lack size, strength, brutality? Man, who the hell needs grace anyway?
Not this guy, that's for damn sure.
Saturday December 28th, 2013
The exercise:
Write a four line poem about: strangers.
Well, we managed to get to the airport safely early this morning and our flight was only delayed about half an hour. We had a little grocery shop in Kelowna and headed for home, with Max doing really well the whole trip.
And, since we arrived with plenty of time to spare for dinner, I have no complaints.
Good lord am I ever behind on comments. I hope to start rectifying that tomorrow.
Mine:
Like a ship in the night,
I pass, safely out of sight.
But they're easily seen,
Careless, like I've never been.
Write a four line poem about: strangers.
Well, we managed to get to the airport safely early this morning and our flight was only delayed about half an hour. We had a little grocery shop in Kelowna and headed for home, with Max doing really well the whole trip.
And, since we arrived with plenty of time to spare for dinner, I have no complaints.
Good lord am I ever behind on comments. I hope to start rectifying that tomorrow.
Mine:
Like a ship in the night,
I pass, safely out of sight.
But they're easily seen,
Careless, like I've never been.
Friday December 27th, 2013
The exercise:
Write four lines of prose about: mercy.
Feeling a little nervous about tomorrow morning's adventures, as Calgary is getting a severe and sudden dose of winter overnight. This afternoon it was 6 degrees out there; by the time we're supposed to leave for the airport it's going to be -20.
At least they are calling for the winds to have calmed down by then. Which is certainly a good thing, as I wouldn't expect too many planes to be taking off with gusts of 70 to 90 km/h going on.
Hopefully at worst we'll be delayed a little bit. As long as we're back home, safe and sound, by dinner tomorrow I won't complain too much.
Mine:
The suitcase is full to bursting. Duffel bags, never meant to carry such loads, give grim protest against the contents of their innards. We have done our best, but it is not enough, more bags are needed.
Tomorrow we must throw ourselves on the mercy of the check-in staff, hoping that the combination of lingering Christmas spirit and a cute baby boy will save us from excess baggage charges.
Write four lines of prose about: mercy.
Feeling a little nervous about tomorrow morning's adventures, as Calgary is getting a severe and sudden dose of winter overnight. This afternoon it was 6 degrees out there; by the time we're supposed to leave for the airport it's going to be -20.
At least they are calling for the winds to have calmed down by then. Which is certainly a good thing, as I wouldn't expect too many planes to be taking off with gusts of 70 to 90 km/h going on.
Hopefully at worst we'll be delayed a little bit. As long as we're back home, safe and sound, by dinner tomorrow I won't complain too much.
Mine:
The suitcase is full to bursting. Duffel bags, never meant to carry such loads, give grim protest against the contents of their innards. We have done our best, but it is not enough, more bags are needed.
Tomorrow we must throw ourselves on the mercy of the check-in staff, hoping that the combination of lingering Christmas spirit and a cute baby boy will save us from excess baggage charges.
Thursday December 26th, 2013
The exercise:
Write about: going back.
I always struggle to come up with the first writing prompt after a theme week has concluded. This was no different, though it did help that my brother-in-law Jake lent me Stephen King's 11/22/63 a few days ago.
We had a very nice Christmas in Calgary, with lots of snow and pleasant temperatures outside. Indoors featured fun family moments and a surprisingly (relatively) healthy Max. We're all hoping his improvement stays on its current track and that his cold will be left behind long before we board our plane for home on Saturday morning.
Today we went out to visit a classmate of Kat's from her online counseling course, before going bowling this afternoon with my family. It was just Jake, Kat, my dad, and myself bowling, while my sister and mom watched Max.
That was definitely a two person job.
Mine:
There are moments in the past that linger long past the time that they are welcome to do so. Not content to remain part of our history, they reappear at random. While we wait in line at the grocery store. During lulls in telephone conversations. At night, in our dreams.
So often in our dreams.
We all have them. None of us are immune.
Yet so rarely are these moments brought into the light, dissected, shared. Are we ashamed of them? Or do we just fear them and the mystical hold they have on us? A little of both, perhaps.
No matter the reasons, no matter the exact details of a haunting moment, they follow us like shadows. But these shadows have weight. They are heavy, and they seem to only grow heavier with the passage of time. We drag them here and there, allowing them to slow our steps.
They are tiresome, these moments that refuse to live in the past. That insist on invading our present. I have had enough of mine. I will not carry this burden another day.
It is time for me to go back, find my moment in the fog of memory and emotions. Confront it in the past where it was born, and leave it there forever.
Write about: going back.
I always struggle to come up with the first writing prompt after a theme week has concluded. This was no different, though it did help that my brother-in-law Jake lent me Stephen King's 11/22/63 a few days ago.
We had a very nice Christmas in Calgary, with lots of snow and pleasant temperatures outside. Indoors featured fun family moments and a surprisingly (relatively) healthy Max. We're all hoping his improvement stays on its current track and that his cold will be left behind long before we board our plane for home on Saturday morning.
Today we went out to visit a classmate of Kat's from her online counseling course, before going bowling this afternoon with my family. It was just Jake, Kat, my dad, and myself bowling, while my sister and mom watched Max.
That was definitely a two person job.
Mine:
There are moments in the past that linger long past the time that they are welcome to do so. Not content to remain part of our history, they reappear at random. While we wait in line at the grocery store. During lulls in telephone conversations. At night, in our dreams.
So often in our dreams.
We all have them. None of us are immune.
Yet so rarely are these moments brought into the light, dissected, shared. Are we ashamed of them? Or do we just fear them and the mystical hold they have on us? A little of both, perhaps.
No matter the reasons, no matter the exact details of a haunting moment, they follow us like shadows. But these shadows have weight. They are heavy, and they seem to only grow heavier with the passage of time. We drag them here and there, allowing them to slow our steps.
They are tiresome, these moments that refuse to live in the past. That insist on invading our present. I have had enough of mine. I will not carry this burden another day.
It is time for me to go back, find my moment in the fog of memory and emotions. Confront it in the past where it was born, and leave it there forever.
Wednesday December 25th, 2013
The exercise:
The 2013 edition of the Christmas week countdown concludes with writing that begins: Have yourself a merry little Christmas
Mine:
Have yourself a
Merry little Christmas,
With loved ones and
Dearest friends close at hand.
May Santa Claus
Bring you the gifts you need,
And maybe one
Or two that are more grand.
Let the spirit
Of the holidays in;
Take a moment
Or three to soak it up.
And may dinner
Find plenty of food tabled,
And the finest
Drinks swirling in your cup.
The 2013 edition of the Christmas week countdown concludes with writing that begins: Have yourself a merry little Christmas
Mine:
Have yourself a
Merry little Christmas,
With loved ones and
Dearest friends close at hand.
May Santa Claus
Bring you the gifts you need,
And maybe one
Or two that are more grand.
Let the spirit
Of the holidays in;
Take a moment
Or three to soak it up.
And may dinner
Find plenty of food tabled,
And the finest
Drinks swirling in your cup.
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