November 8, 2016 § Leave a comment
Quick likes to jump out of sleep at the first alarm, to start the day with a start, to be first off the blocks and to hit the ground running. Quick loves a rush of hormones, a surge of caffeine, and a sugar storm. Quick is harefooted, rash, acts now and asks questions later, if there’s time for that at all. Quick is addicted to first impressions, gut reactions and love at first sight and Quick always bounces back. Quick runs away from Slow, fears Slow, fears falling behind the pack, the movers, the shakers. Slow doesn’t care. Slow is completely unfazed. Slow is the mellow in the marsh, the tortoise in Zeno’s grove.
random word generator prompt #6, #freewrite #minimaledit #poetrysketch
November 8, 2016 § Leave a comment
collar up, booted and suited to walk the line between land and sea, one sure foot in front of the other in metronomic meditation, wind blowing so hard it might blow me right side out again, the shriek of gulls coursing in and out of the world’s edge, shredding the windy silence with small rips and tears, and a family now, children with runny noses and glistening eyes like small wet stones, dogs darting left and right on another path that plaits my own. Further now further, and a clump of walkers staring out to the rocks delight in the sight of seals that bob up from the deep, short smiley greetings, then on again, on again, alone and yet not, a solitary figure holds a cup to the wind, chanting words of departure while a drift of dust lifts, coagulates, curls and disperses, all that was earthbound now wind blown, making it’s way to the New World. And on again, on again, one booted foot in front of the other.
random word generator prompt #5, #freewrite #minimaledit #poetrysketch
November 6, 2016 § Leave a comment
a shoe on the wrong foot
a jumper inside out
a hole in a sock
a hem falling down
a fly adrift
a shirt untucked
a smudge of mascara
spinach between teeth
a stain on a tie
a twist in the lining
a button hole missed
an egg shell lie
random word generator prompt #4, #freewrite #minimaledit #poetrysketch
November 4, 2016 § 1 Comment
Halfway is somewhere between somewhere and somewhere, a nowhere of no description, a service station between where I was and where I want to be, a nondescript laminate table with a hot drink in a non-recyclable styrofoam cup and a book of sudoko puzzles for company bought for a quid in the newsagents that clones itself every 50 miles, that bears metre after metre of glossy reminders of how I don’t have that magazine smile or those carefully stage-managed home wares. Halfway is limbo, a place on the edge of hell where the last chance to beat the slow death of mediocrity resides. It’s the pause to regroup, the moment to swallow that last glug of a bitter, black journey, sweep up the car keys and move on.
random word generator prompt #3, #freewrite #minimaledit #poetrysketch
November 2, 2016 § Leave a comment
It isn’t love that i see in your smile, your eyes are flat, pupils like stingy droplets of ink falling from a dry nib, and they are empty of all gifts, just narrow slits through which I can’t see what I saw, through which you squeeze out an acknowledgement that leaves a bitter taste on my tongue, and I have no appetite for you anymore.
random word generator prompt #2, #freewrite #minimaledit #poetrysketch
November 1, 2016 § 2 Comments
In this part of the forest I don’t need a light to find my way. The unevenness of the ground buoys my steps and I am trusting the dynamics of my knees and ankles, my feet, to keep me moving forward through the dark smell of evergreens, through the silence of sleeping birds whose tiny heartbeats are unheard by my ears which jump now and then to the crack of wood or the scurrying of nocturnal paws over the soft carpet of old conifer fronds. But there is a light now, roving among the black smudges of the far trees, is it the way home or somewhere else, or are they one and the same, coming back and knowing myself afresh, my world and what it is.
random word generator prompt #1, #freewrite #minimaledit #poetrysketch
April 28, 2015 § 2 Comments
Early sun sprays through curtains, no wind in the ash trees. Brambles shiver, and along the boundary line a flush of white Jack-in-the-Hedge stands proud. Feet slide into patient slippers, arms push into wooly sleeves and two feet and four feet make their way to first tea. Day unwinds. Trail over hills pied with guiltless sheep, dodge bursts of rain with a notebook for a hat, then rest a complete turn of the church bell clock in the boundless solitude of a silent yew. Onward again until trusty boots stand sated and body sinks into crisp white sheets. Through the window a glimpse of moon and a diamond bright star. A canine breath curls and uncurls.