1899 - Unplanned

 

Poets & Storytellers have the following prompt: We will invite you to find inspiration in the following quote, by C. S. Lewis, “You are never too old to set another goal or to dream a new dream.” 

Most of the wondrous things in my life have been surprises, totally unplanned.

(Ironically C.S.Lewis wrote a book called “Surprised by Joy”, presumably undreamed of.)

So, I went a bit contrary to the prompt:

Unplanned

The joys of my life—

All my greatest treasures,

Were all surprises.

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1898 - The Tide

 

The Sunday Whirl presented these twelve words for us to use in a creative writing piece. 

wave turning unholy lips swagger lost dead rise twist blade feast edges

The Tide

The tide is not for turning.

It swirls, twists, rises—

The unwary are swept along,

The waters crashing over them.

Below them, below the waves,

The swagger of the dead—

Amused, feasting on their plight.

They too fought and lost

But they offer no advice—

Their lips are sealed,

Their story is well recorded.

But that’s the problem, isn’t it?

Data is a double edged blade.

We are drowning in an unholy,

Unending sea of information.

No supporting driftwood to grasp—

Just a constant, increasing surge 

Of floating froth.

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1897 - Reflection

 

A Pardalote that keeps attacking its reflection in my study window.

MLMM Monday Wordle #482 presents the following words for us to work with:

Shoulder, hide, care, join, share, pride, pleasure, steps, betrayed, friend, kind, missed.

Reflection

Small, feisty, determined.

It attacks with intent—

To defend what is his.

A proud heart.

A stout heart.

Who is this intruder,

Hiding in his realm?

No friend of his, to be sure,

“Begone, yon vassal!

You will not be missed.”

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It is morning.

The man in the mirror

Stares back at me,

Examines me.

Shoulders bare, 

Face lathered,

A kind look, quizzical.

We share the ritual steps

Of water, soap and razor,

Join in facial contortions

To ensure coverage

For the twin blades.

But does he share

My pleasures, this image?

Does he judge me?

Does he care what I do?

Have I betrayed him?

He watches, mute.

I wipe down and leave.

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1896 - A Twisted View

 

The Sunday Whirl presented these twelve words for us to use in a creative writing piece. 

fright runner potatoes road drifting twisted pinch glassy prickled neck shifted still

Poets & Storytellers asked us to use: teeth, hammer, blooms.

A Twisted View

The world comes to him.

Brashly, loudly, relentlessly.

Stories of grief and gloom

Stories of contrived love,

Of kittens in distress,

Lycra bums on bikes

Racing down foreign roads,

Men with no necks

Chasing leather balls 

On sodden paddocks,

As if it mattered.

Politicians with earnest looks,

Dubious intent, 

And doubtful prospects,

Arguing the day’s talking points,

Hammering the opposition,

Drifting (or running)

Into hyperbole as required.

A pinch of salt is also required.

The news— or some movie,

Hard to differentiate—

Both designed to frighten,

Anger or entertain,

Stories that prickle and prod.

In between, the advertisements,

Earnest people with perfect teeth

Hammer, hammer, hammer home 

The message: Buy, buy, buy.

Glassy eyed and foggy brained,

Still sitting where he was yesterday

And the times before that.  Still.

Outside, life shifts—seeds grow, bloom,

Wither and die.  

Unperturbed, he reaches for a crisp—

Potato eats potato.

1895 - The Case of the Mind vs The Ego

 

The Sunday Whirl presented these twelve words for us to use in a creative writing piece. 

tolls spell inclined mind find pretending sigh hit guilty fine fault liar 

The Case of the Mind vs The Ego

Intro:

The mind has been brought 

Before the Court 

Of Petty Thoughts,

Charged with the crime

Of wilful assumption.

(The Magistrate enters and sits)

The gavel raps.

The court is in session.

“How do you plead?”

“Guilty, your honour.”

The prosecution sighs…

“Your honour, I protest.

The accused is pretending,

Accepting fault

To avoid the roasting

I had in mind.

If I was you, your honour,

And obviously I am not,

And do not wish to be seen

As disrespectful,

I would be inclined 

To find him in contempt.

How can he plead guilty?

I have such a fine case

To hit him with.

Granted, he is not a liar,

As I agree with his assessment

But the toll on my self-esteem!

On my desire to spell out

The prosecution case

In fine and well reasoned points…

This is just not fair and equitable.

If you accept his plea of guilty

I shall demand a retrial.

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1894 - The White Bird of Scorn

"I arrived on schedule. The food appears to be missing. Explain."

MLMM Monday Wordle #480 presents the following words for us to work with:

crow, window, near, time, expect, flight, message, begin, stars, regret, smart, dark

The White Bird of Scorn

Is a white cockatoo

The anti-crow?

Both are smart, true,

But there are differences—

Black versus white,

Meat versus seeds.

Crows are gymnastic stars,

Fearless and in your face.

Crows sit on power poles,

Near but not too near.

Cockatoos, flights of cockatoos,

Appear on time, noisily,

At my window.

Food is expected, demanded,

With dark looks if it is absent,

The message is clear—

I will regret it

If tithes are not paid.

Crows shrug and move on,

Cockatoos begin to

Dismantle your house,

One window at a time.

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1893 - Surprised by Life

 

The Sunday Whirl presented these twelve words for us to use in a creative writing piece. 

kindle risk dig until differing chill spin waning  ghost softly alone know

Poet’s & Storytellers: “We shall invite to write about a time you surprised yourself.”.

Posted to dVerse Pub's Open Night,

Surprised by Life

I

Now, in my waning years

I look at the photo, softly,

Look at the happy shadow,

Look at a ghost of myself.

II

He looks so happy,

Sitting on the steps.

Oblivious to all that lies

Ahead of him.

He can’t know, of course,

What surprises,

What different paths

Will present themselves,

Kindle his interest,

Spin stories of ‘maybe’

To invite him in.

III

He will take risks,

Get into trouble,

Dig himself out again,

Sometimes alone,

Often times not.

He will experience

The warmth of love

And the chill of loss.

But sitting there, happy

It is all opaque to him.

Until it happens.

It is one of life’s blessings

That it unfolds slowly.

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