The exercise:
Write a four line poem about: madness.
We took Max to a family fest that was being held at our community center this morning. It was mostly aimed at slightly older kids, but it was still worth going to. I was entertained by the magician, at any rate.
Plus we got a call this afternoon letting us know that we'd won one of the door prizes. Won't find out what it is until Wednesday when I take Max to Mother Goose.
Fingers crossed for a brand new truck!
... okay, now that I've joked about it, you just know it's going to be a toy truck for Max. That's not what I meant, universe, and you know it!
Mine:
'Twas surely madness
That made him do those things,
But we fought till the end
For our dear, beloved king.
7 comments:
It could be a full-size truck for Max... just held in trust for him by the dealership until he reaches driving age! Good luck with the door prize, I hope it's something you can enjoy :)
That's a great little poem. It puts me in my of a chess-game for some reason, but that just makes it better for me.
Madness
He turns the lights off fifteen times,
he counts them off under his breath.
He's mad they say, he's really not;
He's proudly OCD to death.
Hi, I'm a newbie
raven wings carry me by ankles and ears
I watch humanity, calamity, and insanity ensue
with open eyes that cannot shut
madly I fly into the sun
Greg - in that case, I would be happy to take over the job of trusting it from the dealership :P
I like the idea of mine being about chess. It wasn't, but I like the idea.
Speaking of things I like: '...proudly OCD to death'.
Shanner - welcome! And apologies, also: your comment was flagged as spam and I didn't catch it until just now.
Beautiful imagery in your poem, and it has a wonderful rhythm to it. Thank you for sharing, and I look forward to seeing more writing from you :)
Thank you for the kind words. I was not sure the app I used was working to make the post.
I hope to exercise my creative side some. See if I have one or not. :-)
I like the prompt, but for the life of I can't squish it into poem-lines. So I'mma make it prose lines. Because I can.
And I had someone particular in mind when I saw this, but from someone else's view and further along.
- - - - - - - - - -
Spirals have taken from me before: They spun apart---he spinning much slower, and she afraid to match his pace---and he finally spun out.
Now this.
Of course it pains me to see my baby brother in such rough shape, but he's been in much worse. But it kills me to see the light in those grey eyes splintered by a nightmare, and he had no choice but to follow it down its vortical abyss.
- - - - - - - -
g2 - ooh, nicely done. Love the language here.
I had forgotten about the sibling...
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