Hello, Word Artists and Admirers! As many of you may have figured out, we sometimes trade off on hosting duties. We're pretty good at rolling with unexpected schedule shifts, picking up the ball when it's passed to us. But sometimes hand-off comes with an bit of an odd spin.
If you're a long time follower of Magaly's, you pretty much knew an optional prompt using the words "teeth, hammer, and blooms" was originally hers. They are exceedingly cool words, but it's silly to pretend they are mine.
Now if the words were Donut, Dungeon, and
Jug O' Boom, you'd know right away they'd be mine.
Just like some people have a signature look, some folks have signature words. It's neat to see them pop up like a fingerprint in her work. So yes, for this week, I'm asking you to take the equivalent of Magaly's little black dress and take it for a spin on your own catwalk.
Strut your stuff in either poetry or prose, fiction or non-fiction. Just remember, one piece per person and keep each piece to 369 words or fewer.
Next week, 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.”
Who loves sailing? I've done very little of it, unfortunately, and as passenger rather than crew – but even that little I found exhilarating. But you don't have to write about the experience of sailing today; you might just write about watching boats sail ... or about something which 'sails' metaphorically.
In addition, you might like to write something formal.
Although my natural tendency is to write in free verse, I also enjoy playing with form. How many of you like to do the same?
Most recently I’ve tried (not for the first time) a word acrostic, where you take a phrase or sentence, or a line of poetry – your own or someone else’s – and make each word of it (in the original order) the beginning of a new line in a new poem of your own. There are also letter acrostics, where one uses instead each letter of a word or phrase, in turn, to begin a line of poetry.
(The
acrostic, while qualifying as a form, allows you still to write in free
verse – though you could of course choose to use rhyme and metre if you
wish.)
I offer you the following words from T. S. Eliot’s poem, Ash Wednesday. In this poem he seems to feel obliged to choose between the natural world and some austere version of the Christian heaven. I very much love a section full of longing for the Earthly beauty he feels he must renounce, which includes these lines:
From the wide window towards the granite shore The white sails still fly seaward, seaward flying Unbroken wings
Your optional prompt this week is to let these lines inspire you, in whatever way they will, to some writing of your own.
Extra (also optional): If you choose, take the lines quoted, or part thereof, and use either each word, or each first letter of each word, to begin a new line of your new poem. If you choose to write in prose, where line endings and beginnings are not fixed, you could begin each new paragraph acrostically.
Guidelines: We accept poetry or prose, new or old, one post per person, maximum 369 words (excluding title and notes). Post it to your blog. Link to that particular blog post via Mister Linky, below. Please read other participants’ work and leave encouraging comments when you can. You may also communicate with the team and each other in the comments section below.
Next week: We will invite you to write poetry or prose which includes the following 3 words: teeth, hammer, blooms.
Hello, Word Artists and Admirers! I adore the simple pleasure of a nice, hot shower. My husband probably would say that hot is an understatement (he's compared my preferred temperature to that of fires of Mordor).
All I need is a rubber duck
Recently I was on a business trip. Part of the group activities included getting into a tub filled with ice water. Perhaps I would have been less willing to try it if it wasn't outside under the blazing Texas sun. I definitely didn't expect to manage it well enough to last 90 seconds and be curious enough to try it again, if the opportunity presents itself.
So for today's optional prompt, I'd like you to write about a time you surprised yourself. I'm taking poetry and prose, fiction and non-fiction. Just be sure to keep your pieces to 369 words or fewer, and one piece per person, please.
Next week, we'll ask you to be inspired by the following wordsfrom T. S. Eliot’s poem, Ash Wednesday:
From the wide window towards the granite shore The white sails still fly seaward, seaward flying Unbroken wings
A couple
of weeks ago, an old friend invited me to The Tulip Dig, an event that involves
a bunch of New Yorkers digging up tulip bulbs from certain areas in Park
Avenue. I declined—the stitches from my last surgeries were still fresh (and angry). Also,
playing in dirt (fertilized with
manure) is not the most intelligent of activities when one’s immune
system is not 100% reliable (um…
probably, not even 85%). Anyway, last week, a mutual friend of
the “old friend” called me to ask about my depression, since they were told
that “she (meaning moi) no longer enjoys the things she used to love doing. And everybody knows what that means.”
I’m
not depressed (thank goodness). But after
surgeries, chemotherapy, radiation, and more surgeries… my flesh and bones and immune
system and I have never been quite the same. I’ve had to make a lot of changes,
be selective about my priorities, and find fun replacements for many of the things
I used to love (which my body and energy levels no longer accommodate well). I’m sure I’m not alone in this. Time,
circumstances, location… and all sorts of things force us to change how we approach
life and living. Right?
With that
thought in mind, my dear poets and storytellers, for today’s optional prompt,
I invite you to find inspiration in the idea of letting go of something that
used to be wonderful, which no longer fits in your life.
Add
the direct link to your response to Mister Linky. One post per participant, please. 369 words maximum. Share old or new pieces of poetry or
prose, write to the prompt or to a topic of your choosing. Visit other contributors. Comment on their offerings.
next week,
We shall invite to write about a time you surprised yourself.
Different time zones can be tricky to navigate. To get the post published at the midnight between Thursday and Friday, I have to set it to go live at 2pm my time. (This time of year, that is; it varies with the different times of Daylight Savings between here – Australia – and the USA, what with opposite seasons and all.) But to do that, I have to (at this time of year) make the time 14 o'clock in the settings. This week, I forgot and pressed 2. Which means the post appeared many hours early, as our Magaly has just notified me, and for you in the Northern Hemisphere it's a day early! Never mind; if you saw it – Helen certainly did! – please consider it an extra bonus just this once. Well, we hope it's just this once.
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I used to drive past a particular dead tree on my way into and out of this town from my small suburb. I always thought it beautiful in its starkness and shape, its slender grace. I always looked out for it, cherishing the quick glimpse.
‘I must photograph it one day,’ I told myself often. But, on that stretch of road, it’s really hard to find a park. Years went by, of appreciating it and not recording it – until one day I had a very strong feeling that I really must do it at last.
I had to wait until I was coming back out of town; no parking at all the other side, and anyway I’d have had to cross the road in that case, in a spot with fast passing traffic and no provision for pedestrians. As it was, I had to drive some distance past the tree, pull onto a narrow nature strip, then walk back.
Next time I drove into town, the tree was gone! WHAT??? Going back home, I slowed to pass the paddock where it used to be, and saw what looked like a pile of neatly felled logs. How could someone cut it down? I asked myself. But perhaps the owner of the land had some other use for it.
Nothing happened; months went by. Finally I slowed one day to take a longer look and saw that the pile of wood was not really so neat. I realised that the tree must have been felled by one of the big storms we’d had shortly before I saw that it was gone. Mystery solved – and beauty still lost! I am SO glad I had such a strong urge to finally stop and take my photos.
This week, for your (optional) prompt, I invite you to be inspired by this dead tree, or any other dead tree you’ve seen or imagined. Or by the idea of beauty in death, or last-minute actions that turn out to be important. Or anything else my story and/or picture suggests to you. Or, you may simply ignore the prompt and write anything at all.
Guidelines: Poetry or prose, old or new, on prompt or not, 369 words maximum (excluding title and notes), one post per person and link to that post below. Please link to us here at your post, please read what the rest of us submit (not forgetting to check back for those who arrive at the end of the week) and leave us some encouraging comments. You are of course welcome to make comments or ask questions here too.
Next week: We will invite you to find inspiration in the idea of letting go of something that used to be wonderful, which no longer fits in your life.
Hello, Word Artists and Admirers! Many of you probably have one (or a few) movies that you could easily identify just by hearing a quote from it. For me, Princess Bride is one of those movies. The thing about that movie is there are so many quotable lines!
So for this week's optional prompt I'm asking you to draw some inspiration from one of these four (or any) quotes:
1. “Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something.”
2. “Mostly dead is slightly alive.”
3. “We are men of action, lies do not become us.”
4. “True love is the greatest thing in the world... except for a nice MLT—mutton, lettuce, and tomato sandwich, where the mutton is nice and lean and the tomato is ripe.”
I'll accept poetry or prose, fiction or non-fiction. Just be sure to keep your pieces to 369 words or fewer, and one entry per person please.
Next week, we'll ask you to be inspired by a dead tree—whether it's one you've seen, seen pictured, or imagined.
How is life treating you in your bit of the universe?
I hope things are as wonderful as they are for me in some ways (my immune system isn’t trying to kill me at the moment), and
not even close to as horrible as they’ve been in other ways (I need more surgeries than prognosticated). It’s all about balance, right?
And, if we’re lucky, also about a wee bit of decorum. I haven’t been all that fortunate
in the decorum part.
My latest
bit of indignity involved puking all over a surgeon and then bursting into uncontrollable
laughter. Which, of course, brought to mind today’s optional prompt: I invite
you to write poetry or prose inspired by a moment of inappropriate laughter.
Need an example? Here are 3: Raucous laughter at a funeral, giggling during a
root canal, explosive cackles when a priest uses the phrase “friendly
intercourse with your classmates might help”.
Please
add the direct link to your response to Mister Linky. One post per participant.
369 words maximum (excluding title). Let your poetry or prose be old or
new, inspired by the prompt or by a topic of your choosing. Visit other contributors.
Read their writings… and comment.
next week,
we’ll invite you to be inspired by one of the following quotes (or any quote) from The Princess Bride: 1. “Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says
differently is selling something.” 2. “Mostly dead is slightly alive.” 3.
“We are men of action, lies do not become us.” 4. “True love is the
greatest thing in the world... except for a nice MLT—mutton, lettuce, and tomato
sandwich, where the mutton is nice and lean and the tomato is ripe.”
I love
bookshelves, book piles, books leaning (interestingly) against unexpected places. I have
5 bookshelves in the room where I spend most of my time. I also have books on
top of dressers, on windowsills, on plant stands, and pretty much everywhere I can
get away with. I love looking at my books, dusting them, rearranging them,
playing with them, pulling them out to smile at a particularly loved passage… 📚🥰📚
So, my
dear poets and storytellers, since I know I’m not the only one who LOVES
spending time with a favorite bookshelf (or
13),
for today’s optional prompt, I invite you to find inspiration on your
bookshelves. Interpret this any way you like (take
a picture, explore the titles, the arrangement of the books... and write on).
Add the direct link to your response to Mister Linky. One post per participant,
please. 369 words maximum. Share old or new poetry or prose, write to the
prompt or to a topic of your choosing. Visit other writers. Share your thoughts
on their words.
next week,
we shall invite you to write poetry or prose inspired by a moment of inappropriate
laughter. Need an example? Here are 3: Raucous laughter at a funeral, giggling
during a root canal, explosive cackles when a priest uses the phrase “friendly intercourse
with your classmates might help”.
Hello, Word Artists and Admirers! Dessert has been on my mind a lot lately. I have a lot of friends and family members with April birthdays (including myself). Between that and the seasonal joy of sakura everything, and I've been living the sweet life for the last few weeks.
So for this week's optional prompt, I'd like you to write about a dessert, desserts in general, or just use the word dessert in your piece. The floor is open to both fiction and non-fiction, poetry and prose. Just be sure to keep your entries to 369 words or fewer and one entry per person, please.
Next week, We shall invite you to find inspiration on your bookshelf. Interpret this any way you like (take a picture, explore the titles, the arrangement of the books... and write on).
I may have mentioned that I'm a devoted subscriber to The Red Hand Files, in which musician Nick Cave answers questions from his public – any questions. I like his music a lot, though not enough to be besotted nor even to know it well, and I forget how I came across The Red Hand Files, but I love these pieces of writing for their honesty, thoughtfulness, kindness and genuine humility. Also I guess I just like his mind, as revealed in them. There's an innate, albeit intangible Australianness which I naturally respond to, but he is of course an individual as we all are, and I like his individual quirkiness too.
Anyway, see for yourselves! Please have a read, right now, of this recent post. Go on! It's not long, and much of what he says applies to poets as well as singer-songwriters. Besides, you need to, to fully understand this week's prompt.
This week's (optional) prompt: Having read the piece, please tell us, how would YOU answer ‘this most dark and demoralised question: “This world has no meaning. Why fucking bother?”’? (Yes, it's OK to agree with Mr Cave's own thinking on the matter.)
Guidelines: Poetry
or prose, old or new, on prompt or not, 369 words maximum (excluding
title and notes), one post per person and link to that post below.
Please link to us here at your post, please read what the rest of us
submit (not forgetting to check back for those who arrive at the end of
the week) and leave us some encouraging comments. You are of course
welcome to make comments or ask questions here too.
And here's something pertinent by another brilliant Aussie, the late and beloved Michael Leunig, who was both cartoonist and poet:
Next week: We shall ask you to write about dessert(s)!
Hello, word artists and admirers! As many of you know, I've been a student of Japanese tea ceremony for over a decade. In that time, I've gotten to meet other nice, tea-obsessed folks. Terry was one of them. She was endlessly enthusiastic about tea, and life in general. She also was the first person to encourage me to do a public tea demonstration. Sadly, last year Terry passed away. In her last few weeks she made it a point to share tea and some of her well loved tea-treasures with other members of the tea school. I was very honored to receive a special bag, made from one of her obi, that I could use at events to hold my tea things.
Every time I use it, I will think of her encouraging voice.
So in honor of Terry, and her legacy of encouragement and hospitality, this week's optional prompt will be about legacies, either one legacy in specific or the idea of legacies in general. I'll accept fiction or non-fiction, prose or poetry. Just be sure to keep your pieces to 369 words or fewer and one entry per person please.
Next week, we shall ask you to answer the question, 'The world feels completely meaningless. Why f**king bother?'
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