I really don't know what to write
My inspiration somehow won't bite
(But) I've got time to borrow:
I can do it tomorrow,
And maybe I'll then see the light.
{Claire}
(A/N: Talking about procrastination makes me laugh! (Albeit a little bitterly.) So, I wrote attempted a limerick. Iambic pentameter not quite there but hey, I think it's not half bad.)
Thursday, April 30, 2015
Procrastination
She is a thief with many guises, an artist of considerable talent. She comes, sometimes, with a gentle caress, like the lightest of breezes, a brush of rose-scented hair across your cheek, to draw you slowly away into her empty embrace. She comes, sometimes, with promises of treats and assorted goodies, a trail of hollow breadcrumbs that leads you deeper into the darkened woods where she lairs. She comes, sometimes, more forcefully, tugging at your sleeve, your trousers, your ears, your heart, demanding your attention, your adoration, your supplication. She is a thief with many guises - she is an experienced and familiar lover, an enticing new prospect, an adorable child with an infectious personality. She comes each time, intently, insistent, and inexplicably you follow her, as you lead her down to where you keep your most sacred treasures. And as her arms wrap ever tigher around you, her fingers reach down into your soul, and draw out the most precious hours of your life. And as the sand slowly falls out from your hourglass in cascades of gold, she bathes in it, delightedly, coldly and beautifully, immortal.
- Adrian
Tomorrow, Please
I have always been loving you. When you drew your first breath
in my arms, I touched a miracle. You made
physical pain feel indescribably amazing.
When you took your first steps
into my embrace, I witnessed light. You wobbled
towards me with hands outstretched and from
your eyes, I saw trust -the first in your circle. It was
enthralling. When you first held my hand and planted a kiss
on my cheek, I felt love.
When you first called my name, "Mama!",
I heard music. My innocent sweetheart, you are a work of God's.
I am Mama.
Remember how you used to come back to me everyday?
The sweetest voice is never too far off the motorized
clink-clank of the yellow metal capsule. "Mummy!"
and suddenly, the sun shines a little brighter, the grass grew a
little taller and the flowers bloom a little bigger.
I remember when you told me you got a gold star for
English. I wore my pride as a badge atop my motherly
breasts. I remember when I was called to school to
watch you receive your awards. I clapped loudest in that
auditorium. I cheered longest. The moment captured, framed and
proudly displayed on our mantle. My little genius, you are a work of God's.
I am mummy.
I recollect when yoou wanted to be a princess -
puffy green dresses, silver tiaras, golden glitter and fairy wings.
You were celestial.
Then, fashion changed and princesses were dressed with
blood red lips, black eyeliner, mini skirts and cropped tops.
You were celestial.
I recollect when you would come home and weep. "Mum".
Girls can be a mean bunch. Boys make you miserable.
As I heard the sniffles of your door, my heart pounded with you.
As I heard the whimper of your room, my heart cried with you.
As I heard the exclamation of your tears, my heart broke with you.
My stained-faced child, you are a work of God's.
I am mum.
I'll always love you. As you heave through the ventilators
in my arms, I wished for a miracle. Your silence make
the pain in my chest feel almost unbearable.
When you threw yourself into my embrace and I heard
the empty bottle rattle on, I longed for light. You wobbled
towards me with hands outstretched and from
your eyes, I saw the life seeping out of your soul like
the white froth at the corner of your mouth. It was
fear I never could imagine. When you held my hand and planted a kiss
on my cheek, I prayed for salvation.
When you gasped my name, "ma",
I cried for mercy. My broken perfection, you are a work of God's.
Who am I if not for you?
My baby, please do not go today.
Agnes Lee
Topic: Procrastination (day 1)
in my arms, I touched a miracle. You made
physical pain feel indescribably amazing.
When you took your first steps
into my embrace, I witnessed light. You wobbled
towards me with hands outstretched and from
your eyes, I saw trust -the first in your circle. It was
enthralling. When you first held my hand and planted a kiss
on my cheek, I felt love.
When you first called my name, "Mama!",
I heard music. My innocent sweetheart, you are a work of God's.
I am Mama.
Remember how you used to come back to me everyday?
The sweetest voice is never too far off the motorized
clink-clank of the yellow metal capsule. "Mummy!"
and suddenly, the sun shines a little brighter, the grass grew a
little taller and the flowers bloom a little bigger.
I remember when you told me you got a gold star for
English. I wore my pride as a badge atop my motherly
breasts. I remember when I was called to school to
watch you receive your awards. I clapped loudest in that
auditorium. I cheered longest. The moment captured, framed and
proudly displayed on our mantle. My little genius, you are a work of God's.
I am mummy.
I recollect when yoou wanted to be a princess -
puffy green dresses, silver tiaras, golden glitter and fairy wings.
You were celestial.
Then, fashion changed and princesses were dressed with
blood red lips, black eyeliner, mini skirts and cropped tops.
You were celestial.
I recollect when you would come home and weep. "Mum".
Girls can be a mean bunch. Boys make you miserable.
As I heard the sniffles of your door, my heart pounded with you.
As I heard the whimper of your room, my heart cried with you.
As I heard the exclamation of your tears, my heart broke with you.
My stained-faced child, you are a work of God's.
I am mum.
I'll always love you. As you heave through the ventilators
in my arms, I wished for a miracle. Your silence make
the pain in my chest feel almost unbearable.
When you threw yourself into my embrace and I heard
the empty bottle rattle on, I longed for light. You wobbled
towards me with hands outstretched and from
your eyes, I saw the life seeping out of your soul like
the white froth at the corner of your mouth. It was
fear I never could imagine. When you held my hand and planted a kiss
on my cheek, I prayed for salvation.
When you gasped my name, "ma",
I cried for mercy. My broken perfection, you are a work of God's.
Who am I if not for you?
My baby, please do not go today.
Agnes Lee
Topic: Procrastination (day 1)
30 Day Writing Challenge
- Addiction
- Pink
- Shoes
- Hair
- Strings
- Ghosts
- Weakness
- Connection
- Happy
- Food
- Desert
- Elbows
- Acne
- Malleable
- Rising
- Rooms
- Fetishist
- Fluorescent
- Family
- Space
- Cluck
- Clutter
- Grace
- Forgiveness
- Procrastination
- Gravity
- Tissue
- Poison
- Fingernail
- Today
POETRY CHALLENGES
Sonnet
Limerick
Haiku
Ode
Write in Shakespearean English
Write a poem with only 1 verse
Write while slightly inebriated
PROSE
Convey everything you want to convey in 7 words
Second person narrative
Graphic description
Write while listening to a song (mention song at the end)
Write purely in dialogue
Write while slightly inebriated
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