Got The Grays

oy!

Today’s Poetry Prompt: Write a Blues Sonnet

1. Write 5 thematically similar heroic couplets of iambic pentameter.
2. In first four, repeat first line of each couplet, yielding the 14 lines of the sonnet.
3. Then, if desired, modify middle lines, of the stanzas without disturbing rhyme or rhythm to strengthen the stanza and give variety.
4. Get out a blues recording and have fun singing your blues song!
   

Okay. Not for nothing, but you're out of your ever-lovin' mind.

Oh, wait. I just remembered I have written a few songs, back when I was first learning to play guitar. One was about how much I loved my guitar. GOD SAVE US.

The other was an -- I'm annoyed and no one cares -- kind of thing titled: I'm Last On Your List Of Things To Do. AHEM.

Another was It's Hard To Be Good When It's So Much Fun Being Bad.

As you can see, a great rockin' blues career lived and died on a very short vine.

And, thank your lucky stars, I cannot find any of that writing, or we would have proof, pure and final, that I have no shame as I would PROBABLY have posted them.


Why do they call it blue
when it feels gray?


Day 4

RIP

I went to a neighbor's funeral the other day. In one corner, they had a computerized slide show flashing scenes of her life. About halfway through the service I realized, they won't be able to do that at my funeral.

I said to Husband Dearest, there won't be a picture show at my service. Because I'm always the one taking the pictures.

He said, he had pictures of me.

Hymph.

So, I went looking.

I found lots of pictures like this.

And this.

And this.

For some reason, there were plenty of pictures of me and the ATV.

Go figure.

Plus a few of me with a grit-teeth, spastic grin caused by someone using my camera to take my picture, and I'm trying to say, press the button, press the button without moving my lips.

So, as not to have the dullest funeral in history, or to leave mourners with the impression I did nothing but ride an ATV, I created my RIP Photo Collage.

It was an interesting experience. Try it yourself.

Something's Burning

Okay, maybe I should have gone with NaNoWriMo.

Today’s Poetry Prompt: Write a poem that uses some sort of meter. If you want a challenge, attempt a meter you haven’t worked with before. For an extra added challenge, try to work in the word "belly."

There once was a lady from Nantucket.
err. no.
Roses are red.
nope.

does anyone remember ferlinghetti?

"Someone has escaped his Underwear
May be naked somewhere"



I am distracted by the good old days.

reading ferlinghetti thru a marijuana haze.
dreaming of, what is to come.
left with, what I might have done.

Day 3

Poetry

Why not?

A screenwriter must derive the most impact from every word in a script. That makes screenwriting like poetry.

If you're lucky, so inclined or talented, even action lines have rhythm.

A script page looks like a page of poetry and not like a block of prose.

Because the purpose of a script is not to make a movie.

The purpose of a script is to get readers, one after another, to fall in love with the characters, to see the pictures, to feel the story.

If you can do that, the movie's gravy.

Fiat

Because I am not crazy enough to do NaNoWriMo.

Today’s Poetry Prompt: Write a poem that includes at least one description of an object that is six or more words long.



I remember the first car I loved.

It was sexy.

It was new.

It was mine.

It was a lime green, Fiat Spider with brown leather seats and a rag top that leaked around the back window like a lover's tears after a long goodbye.

It did not love me back.


Day Two