It’s hard to fly your own flag while struggling to grab hold of inspiration and make it light up at will and as requested. But I know, this month is for us to do the best that we can. And I’m doing just that.
When I hear Lorca mentioned, I certainly don’t wish or intend to fill his shoes. It’s not even the same medium. Today’s prompts have blocked me rather than inspired me but it’s on me not them. Just a bit busy with Pasqua and all that.
I wish you all happy Easter and eggs and bunnies and spring and the end of April approaching.
Here is my whimper with which we will go out.
Challenge 21: “Write a poem that … incorporates wild, surreal images. Try to play around with writing that doesn’t make formal sense, but which engages all the senses and involves dream-logic.”
It has begun.
Everyone’s biggest fear is coming true.
A writer is losing words.
A construction worker fears the abyss.
A mother is watching as her child nears the edge.
A dog owner is whistling in vain.
An extrovert doesn’t know what to say.
A proofreader is unable to spot errors.
An internet addict is losing connection.
A singer is losing voice.
A model is losing looks.
A painter is losing sight.
A photographer is losing legs.
An actress is gaining years.
A ballet dancer is gaining weight.
People are losing jobs to robots.
Walruses have no space.
Polar bears have no ice.
Butterflies are under attack by fungi.
Trees are lifting their roots to walk.
The last mammal is being farmed by spiders.
- I watched Event Horizon a long time ago and don’t really recommend it but it’s scary.
- I’m watching David Attenborough’s brand new Our Planet now and – it’s ground- and heartbreaking.
- But the last line is memorised from an old documentary The Future Is Wild in which they were playing by envisioning what the future of our planet might look like.