The sunshine is pickling,
The ocean is brine,
I’ll keep this day in a jar,
So it will always be mine.
I randomly stumbled upon a quote that went something like this; you won’t remember mowing the lawn or going to work, so go climb that mountain! And it got me thinking about the little things in life, so this is sort of my response to that quote, because we can’t always be climbing mountains.
I might remember when I mowed the lawn, pushing the monster through the tangled green, wearing black gumboots and a red face, the giant hum shielding my ears from all other sounds and the daisies cheeky, never cut, for they are too low to the ground.
I might remember when I curled exhausted in the chair and closed my eyes, and the air swirled outside my eyelids, dark green, and red and splashes of yellow around the mahogany furniture. And when I opened my eyes my eyelashes swept up against my curled fingers that were propping up my face.
And I might remember how every time I highlight text electronically, no matter how many colours I used last time; green for common use, yellow for sub-points and blue for quotes, it always stains dark pink when I start again, because that is always the colour I used last, the colour of extremely important points.
Watercolour-blue, paper carded sky, marked on crisp white labels, starry seeds. Black wells of pooling ink,
The waiting crocodiles yawn, illuminated in cool moonlight. Silk strands curling off corn heads writher till white herons set off
Across the coarse brown sand.
The desk is clear, dark,
One defined yellow square, post-it note,
Stuck there. Leaning down, I tear it sharply,
Pencil scribbles, just made out,
Says “Call back the dentist.”
I toss it and it floats curving,
A yellow square on the floor, two centimetres from the bin.
Prompt from Poetic Asides to write an information poem, remembering that not all information is created equal.
Summer takes a sigh
Lungs collapsing in the sun
Birds fly on up-draft
A prompt from dVerse, to explore why we write in the style we do, with a traditional haiku at the end. I’m not sure my response made my why any clearer, but I didn’t realise before I thought about it that this is definitely my style, at least at the moment. I haven’t put in any line breaks as I usually do so you can see it as it is raw. I still and probably always will be growing in the way I write, so this is a snapshot of me now, I guess.
I was gunna use this for Sanaa’s prompt at Real Toads but it doesn’t really count because I didn’t go out to write it, I was in my room looking at my granny square rug on my bed. It does fulfil the idea of just letting the idea come naturally, as the prompt says, ‘as Francis Bacon wisely states; “Write down the thoughts of the moment. Those that come unsought for are commonly the most valuable.”‘ This is a great prompt though, and I’d like to try it again sometime, actually going out next time!