Yes, my poems seem dark and dreary. One time I tried a happy verse but it didn’t seem to work. The clouds blocked the sun, the earth began to shake. The time and space continuum collided and NASA locked me up. Then, the CIA got involved and called me a national threat. They flagged my email, spied on my journal and called the President. All the Heads of State met deciding what to do. They put me in orange, cuffed my hands and threw me in Gitmo. So, I no longer write the happy verse and have begun to curse. You should hear the words that came out-even the terrorists became afraid-and ran from this little blonde girl.
Thinking Brooks would come back again….
Taking a shower was very difficult.
He took her off the respirator.
Black hole sun ended the earth.
Winning the trophy-my boy cried.
Lost in the woods-alone, famished.
Running away she became despondent again.
Nine miles to go, he laughed.
I accept this challenge. 🙂
I saw this on another blog the other day, I really can’t remember any of the details but the idea behind it caught my attention. The challenge was to try to tell a story in six words. At first it didn’t that difficult but it really challenged my thought process, sentence structure and my vocabulary.
Here are some of my attempts; they are good, bad and horrifying. 🙂
-The long walk ended in tears.
-All his children fought their history.
-Irrevocably damaged, indeterminate optimism, eternity achieved.
-I went to the store forever.
-The house of one hundred truths.
-My notebook knows all my secrets.
-Love, hallucinations and how it works.
-Fall into a drink forget nothing.
-She always danced to her beat.
-From below every conversation was heard.
What’s your best attempt?
Long, slim fingers reaching up through the dirt.
How did I get here? Why was I hurt?
Clawing now, frantic….she smells her own blood.
Moving the rocks till she reaches the top, gasping-
She sucks in as much air as her lungs allow.
It’s dusk now, she looks up-
Burnt orange and red dragons flying in the sky…
A hand called wonder and confusion reaches out
They walk further into the night-her scorched beautiful, painful spirit
Erupting divinely into fire.
Questioning her one basic need need-reality.
Is this ethereal? She watches the bright glow of an explosion
Mushrooming in the distance-the night lights up and her light burns out…
Loves, just a short note to say I will follow anyone back who follows me-
Or if you like my poetry… Why does everything I write rhyme? You’ll see.
Do you think some people are born to write in verse? Or is it something learned?
Seriously, I’m trying to stop, and now my brain just might pop.
If you never hear from me again- you might want to call the cops.