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.
“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!)
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?
Today’s NaPoWriMo is to “write a poem that explicitly incorporates alliteration (the use of repeated consonant sounds) and assonance (the use of repeated vowel sounds).” For A to Z Challenge the GoodReads quote is from the letter L. As well, thanks to Pricless Joy for hosting FFftAW.
“The thing about love is that you will never run out of it. It’s an ever-flowing river. So go ahead and LOVE. What are you saving all this love for — death?” ― Kamand Kojouri
The river she flows fluent, flourishing in her mad descent,
Rapids, water reeling past rocks leading her to a path of providence.
Fast, and fleet, a river rivaling; I’ve experienced —
On the weary trail, the river cutting, crushing the rocks.
She carves her path, ploughing silt to the shore,
Debris of dramatic, erosion deciding on the the crooked carved path.
The water, she must flow, finding her fabulous spark in the light of —
Lumionous sunlight, searing in the afternoon heat.
For this river runs through the desert, the orange, organic trails,
Mixed with red-rock, rizing in the Arizona afternoon.
Cliffs creating a canyon so deep and wide, where the water dances through.
No one to stop her destruction of rock, her pounding so hard it hurts,
But the river rivals all, keeps on carving her way —
Through the canyon cringing, when she chops off more silt.
Off its brilliant fire, she finds a place where the —
River rests in waterfalls crashing and carniverous,
Then she wanes as she reaches shore and and lays back breathing,
At ease, she is pleased and settles,
Against the sand of some beach, somewhere; she’s oblivious —
“Trees are necessary for our very existence on this earth, they produce the air we breathe. We build houses with them and create many products that we use everyday with them. What personal role do trees have in your life? Do you have a favorite tree in your yard or one that you walk or drive by frequently? Free write for ten minutes exploring the world of trees.”
The park is peaceful silent, as mid-day sun strays,
Walking through foliage, even footsteps —
Can be heard, where branches carve a ceiling cave.
Though the sky is cheerful blue, branches yet,
Make the trails paved, a hollowed place away —
Screaming city lights, and loud conversation met,
With the quiet, the tranquil breath, gifted by trees,
No sadness here, a happy place held dear.
The drifting leaves, paying tole, to dancing wind,
Blowing the rebirth of trees and their seeds far.
Slow lazy walk, furry dog smelling scents, grins.
Curious thing, to see a dog smile, laughing bark.
Nature cradles us, magic trees rekindled.
Hidden we are in treasured lands, our star —
Bright light always near, to show us the path to roam.
Nature’s dreamy pause, returns with us to home.
——- ” A Ottava Rima is a poem written in 8-line octives. Each line is of a 10 or 11 syllable count in the following rhyme:
1. one octive poem. abababcc 2. two octive poem. abababcc, dededeff
3. three octive poem. abababcc, dededeff, ghghghii.”
Thanks to K.L. Caley from new2writing for hosting #Maydays prompts. Today’s prompt is doing or having done something stupid or awkward.
Jeff had drank too much that night. It started with the tequila shots, followed by rye and gingers, and ended with shots of jäger. He walked through the bar, connected to his condo building, and he stopped in the lobby. He noticed a pretty woman, wearing green and standing by herself. She must be waiting for a cab, Jeff thought.
Jeff started talking to the woman, leaning up against her, laying it on thick as he could.
“Hey baby. You’re gorgeous. You’ve such beautiful green eyes. Would you like to come upstairs to my condo and have a drink with me? You don’t have to stay there unless you want to. I can’t believe you’re here alone and you haven’t a wedding ring. Women as beautiful as you don’t come to this bar often.”
The woman didn’t say a word and Jeff tried to get a kiss from her but she was rigid, ignoring Jeff’s lips.
“Please, one kiss. You’ve such plush lips. I want one kiss, only to remember such a lovely woman by.You’ll like it. I’m a fantastic kisser.”
The woman didn’t move. She never even turned her beautiful smooth greenish-skinned face towards him. Jeff became angry at her and Jeff tried to turn the woman towards him, she ended up falling on the floor. Then he was in tears, hoping she was alright.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to knock you over. I’ve had too much to drink. It’s only you’re gorgeous and I’ll probably never see you again. It’s okay. I know you’re not interested. Sorry to have disturbed you.” Jeff said helping the woman stand up, before heading up to his condo. He collapsed on his bed and slept.
The security guard watching the camera footage of a drunk man hitting on a plant he thought was a young woman, had tears running down his face. He couldn’t stop laughing as the histarical scene played out.