Day 24 – NaPoWriMo/A to Z Challenge/100 Word Wednesday: Poem – Free Verse – “Art of a Story and Death” #NaPoWriMo #AtoZChallenge #100WordWednesday #poetry


Thanks to Bikurgurl for hosting last week’s #100WordWednesday flashfiction prompt. Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt is “to write a poem of ekphrasis — that is, a poem inspired by a work of art.” The A to Z Challenge GoodRead’s Prompt begins with the letter U. 

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Credit: Bikurgurl – Her Photograph and work of art for the prompt 🙂

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To write is to forget. Literature is the most agreeable way of ignoring life. Music soothes, the visual arts exhilarates, the performing arts (such as acting and dance) entertain. Literature, however, retreats from life by turning in into slumber. The other arts make no such retreat— some because they use visible and hence vital formulas, others because they live from human life itself. 

― Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet”

(Sorry finding a Q name for this piece impossible but there is Q in Disquiet!)

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The photograph is lovely at first, 

A brilliant blue sky, soft winds of cool breezes, 

The Atlantic still icy, but forgiving. 

Trees rise and guard the home, the lighthouse, 

Ancient ones in slumber as spring yet approaches. 

Rock walls prevent a fall below, to the unforgiving chill. 

Hypothermia comes quickly here, 

But the scenery makes up for the inherent danger. 

Bright pink of the house stands out and the tower above matches, 

Glows in the night when the boats pass by, 

Protecting and guiding ships. 

The long grass still waiting to be verdent, 

Not dry crumpled straw. 

And the owners of the house are silent, keeping to themselves, 

Their only sense of existing, is the light that glares, when outside the tower is dark. 

Spring is slowly birthing, but the ocean’s still freezing, 

And the danger is too real for ships too close.  

And a stranger walking watches from the dim, 

Holding back a dog barking in madness. 

The bulb has burnt out, now disaster is unhinged, 

The ship clips the cliff, the house crumbles and the ship sinks, 

Screams in the night, in the Atlantic’ waters cold numbness. 

And when all is said and done, only the lighthouse stands, 

With a burnt out bulb of fault. 

How can this photograph be a work of art? 

Is there art in dying? 

Or is art and death as a perception, to ambigious to be real? 

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©Mandibelle16. 2017) All Rights Reserved. 

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Tale Weaver: Poem – Synchronocity – “A Deadly Night” #amwriting #poetry #fiction #taleweavers


Here is last week’s  Tale Weaver prompt, held by MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie. The prompt is a story about being caught in a deep freeze. 

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Credit: Winter Wolly

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Stuck fast in this ice, no relief, 

Car pushed off he highway it’s —

Dark, cold

——-

We’re lucky we’re uninjured that, 

We’ve signals on our smart phones; night

Descends. 

——-

There’s no gas left in the tank from, 

Starting, then turning off the heat

Stars bleed

——

Giant glimmering balls, twinkle, 

Outside our windows; but we’re still —

Stuck here. 

——-

We called the AMA, come find —

Us because we’re frozen; minus 

Forty

——-

Nighttime is bitter, freezing we’re, 

Huddled beneath silver blankets, 

Wondering. 

——-

Then he starts shaking, lips so blue

Then he’s still; hypothermia

Induced. 

*****

But the sun is rising now; we’ve —

Made it through the dark; my friend he —

Yet sleeps. 

——

Hearing voices outside our car, 

Come to save us now, opening —

Our doors. 

——

Light leaks in, such needed warmth; I —

feel my hands, shaking you awake, 

You blink

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.