The exercise:
The word of the moment is: obsessed.
Mostly because I'm trying to write a cover letter and, as is my usual tendency, I'm obsessing over almost every single word. Lord, I hate doing these things.
So we finally set aside the squash we plan on eating ourselves this winter and... yeah, safe to say there are plenty left to sell. Which is good! Now people just have to buy them and we're all set.
Mine:
Every word must be right.
No.
Perfect, nothing less.
That doesn't fit at all.
Wrong!
What a bloody mess.
Start over, try again.
Yes!
On second thought, no.
Terrible, what complete
Crap.
What... I just don't know.
Cross it out, all of it.
Junk!
I should really quit.
But I'm too damned stubborn.
Dumb?
Yeah, but I'll get it.
I hate cover letters too, but I hate writing about myself. I usually write it as fast as possible and then ask someone else to proofread it and tell me everything I've undersold myself on.
ReplyDeleteI really love the rhythm of the poem today, I can almost hear a mechanical typewriter clicking away as the backdrop to it. And the ding of the carriage return bell at every exclamation mark.
Obsessed
Pale fingers caress the stone,
A rude, square block,
Perfectly centred in the studio,
Almost luminous in the dark,
As geometric as the laws that run the world.
Beneath his hands the stone is warm,
And he knows that she dwells within,
Waiting impatiently to be revealed,
To show the world her beauty,
And overthrow their laws.
Each chip of stone he fractures off
Is stained with blood;
His fingers bruise and bleed
But he cannot stop, he cannot pause,
Until his muse is free.
Pale stone, luminous in the moonlight,
Stands in the absolute centre of the studio,
Her proportions will make men weep,
Her face will make women curse,
And the sculptor sleeps like the dead at her feet.
Obsessed
ReplyDeleteObsessed with writing, I am.
I can't stop.
Every day I sit, the screen on my iPad iWrite app is blank, the cursor in the titles bar blinking, waiting to be filled.
What title today?
If it is not from the depths of my own mind's muse, I know for sure that a prompt from Marc's daily writing practice blog will surely inspire me.
I never know when the moment will strike - the morning coffee post-breakfast, riding shot-gun in the car on the way to god-knows where, or floating in the pool, cooling off in the summer’s heat - where- and when-ever the muse strikes, I am ready, trusty iPad in hand, ready to tap ... Maybe it's a double obsession I have!
Greg- brilliant., and Marc, too, of course!
Greg - I despise writing about myself. So it's odd that I just agreed to be interviewed again over on Protag :P
ReplyDeleteI like the typewriter effect you added to the poem. I think I shall adopt it!
Fantastic imagery and atmosphere in your poem. Really enjoyed that.
World of Exp. - yeah, I think I might share your obsession with writing :D
I love your poem there. It just flows so well. And it reminds me of every time I get the idea in my head that I can draw.
ReplyDelete---
Watching everything you do. Every smile, every laugh. Knowing everything about you. All your favorites and what you despise. The time with you I cherish, though you barely even notice me. The time away is unbearable, though you don't even think of me. Is it obsession, or is it love? Is there even a difference?
Drake - thanks very much :)
ReplyDeleteExcellent question(s). I like that you managed to convey the narrator's feelings so concisely.