
I thought it time to write something. Anything. And to write it quickly. My concentration span is so short these days that everything needs to be done quickly. I need to fit things in between daydreams.
I was reading about Linda’s SOC Here, which demands minimal time and thought and this week required that replies begin with a question. Mine was, ‘why do we need more questions?’, or something like that. I don’t think I even bothered to send it to Linda. It seemed rhetorical.
At the same time I read a comment about my latest contribution to Chel’s Terrible Poetry Contest Here, where I feel always on the very precipice of greatness. Somebody had the temerity to suggest that my poetry wasn’t sufficiently terrible, but I took that to be an expression of artistic envy, directed at one to whom ‘terrible’ is something that comes with such natural ease.
Anyway, to sort of settle things properly I sat down (very briefly)§ and wrote the following. It’s fairly terrible and although it doesn’t start with a question (a terrible disregard for the rules) it contains plenty of them. And provides no answers.
It ponders on matters that you have all heard from me before. The nature of true terribleness relies heavily on boring repetition.
*
Sunday
As the sun falls
A night yet to pass
Until Monday calls
The bells are ringing
Can you hear them too?
Are they calling me?
Were they calling you?
Watching
As it all goes past
Remember a forever
That could never last
There was a light in your eyes
Is it shining now?
And music on your lips
I still hear somehow
Darkness
But for passing stars
Are you out there still?
Is there life on Mars?
There’s a place up ahead
Where you used to be
I remember the address
I still hold the key
Smiling
She’s wearing your hair
A phantom in the mist
Breathing your air
There’s a ghost in the house
Wearing your shoes
And with a smile like that
How could I refuse?
Monday
And the light returns
It’s cold in the house
Where the fire still burns
The music plays
It let it play for you
If the song ever ends
What am I to do?
*
??? … but of course, as always, a worthy endeavor. 🥰
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But pretty terrible, eh?
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Well … I wouldn’t go quite that far. But not up to your mo’ better standards, IMO.
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not terrible at all. stop drilling holes in your own boat.
This was a lot more moving than a lot of stuff I read, I even got a bit, shall we say, emotional, towards the end.
(She’s wearing your hair
A phantom in the mist
Breathing your air
There’s a ghost in the house
Wearing your shoes
And with a smile like that
How could I refuse?)
this is just lovely.
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this is just lovely. Stop drilling holes in your own boat.
she’s wearing your hair
A phantom in the mist
Breathing your air
There’s a ghost in the house
Wearing your shoes
And with a smile like that
How could I refuse?
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I would say that this is as terrible as your usual writing. Take that how you will😂
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Good job sir! For such quick write, sometimes we just have to put it out there or writers block will totally consumes us. I get it! There’s a lot to unpack here 🙂 First that dreaded Monday morning! lol and who exactly is wearing your shoes and do turn the heat on 🙂
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As a poetry expert, I say this is an excellent terrible poem. N may now envy you.
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