The exercise:
Write a four line poem about: the crossing
Brought approximately 320 pounds of nectarines to Penticton this morning, sold about 260 of them. Brought all these cherry tomatoes and berries:
Sold all of them except one pint of tomatoes. Brought my cards, as always (well, this year anyway). Sold out of my first card (the Goldfinch one) - I'll be getting a reprint of that one, as well as adding at least one new picture (the hummingbird picture I worked so hard for).
It was a good market.
The drives there and back were... less good.
Mine:
Little man on your motorcycle,
What the hell were you thinking?
Pull out in front of me like that again,
I'll run you down without blinking.
That's a great picture, I love the colours in it! And those gorgeous yellow tomatoes, the slightly pear-shaped ones look temptingly delicious. I can see how you managed to sell almost everything when it all looks as good as that!
ReplyDeleteI'm tempted to take you up on the offer of a demonstration cooking stall, but I think the commute from London at the weekends might be a bit much :-P
Hmm, sounds like the traffic was particuarly aggressive then? Based on the poem I'd say there's a motorcyclist out there who's lucky you don't get road-rage :)
The crossing
The waves were high and the ship was old,
The crossing fraught, but the crew were bold,
They sure worked hard, and as was foretold,
They in the harbour in the freezing cold.
[I should probably point out, before you feel too sorry for them, that they all died without any money to pay Charon for the next crossing, so they're all hanging around on the banks of the Styx, mugging the recently dead....]
Greg - ah yes, the Yellow Pear tomatoes are one of my favorites. I suppose the current commute options would be a touch unpleasant; we'll have to get those Star Trek transporters sorted out for you.
ReplyDeleteI actually had four different incidents yesterday I could have based that poem on: one on the way to the market (the one I used), one on the way back, and two on the way back into town after I'd unloaded the truck - the second of which was probably the most dangerous.
Ah, summer traffic in the valley...
Anyway. Love the rhythm and story of your poem, especially with your extra little explanation. Though I think you've left out a rather important word in your poem's final line.
Heh, I have no idea how I could have missed the verb out. That's just wrong!
ReplyDeleteStill, missing a verb is still better that you being harassed by insane motorists all day :)
Greg - yes, I suppose so :P
ReplyDelete