The exercise:
Write a four line poem about: fog.
Because it took a long time for the sun to burn away the fog here this morning, and now it has come back under the cover of darkness. So we'll likely see more of the same tomorrow morning.
And also because: how have I not used that as a prompt before?
Max spent most of today with his aunt and uncle. I think everyone involved enjoyed themselves.
Mine:
The world is concealed and consumed
By the cold grey breath of this land.
Blindly we continue to march,
Guided by an unseen hand.
5 comments:
I rather like the fog, but we don't seem to get so much of it in London (which would probably astonish someone from 100 years ago!). It does seem a little odd that you've not been prompted by it before, but I guess that's just one of those things :)
So, are Max's aunt and uncle convinced by him that they should leave Calgary yet?
Hmm, a poem with a story to tell, definitely! I like the element of faith in there, it suggests something epic like Lord of the Rings!
Fog
The tops of buildings are obscured,
Charles Asciugimento stares into fog;
Security must be still preserved,
His team are terrified and agog....
Greg - I'm not quite astonished by that, but I am certainly surprised.
Max did his best. We shall see what happens next :)
I do rather like the word 'agog'. Pleased you worked it into your poem this week!
Here's mine:
Fog
The air is fluid in my hands
I cross the bridge breathing in the mist.
Quietly I watch the air slowly disappear,
I get on my bike and swim through the grey.
Anon - wonderful language and imagery. Particularly enjoyed your final line :)
Thank you Marc, I love your blog. Cheers
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