Day 19. The challenge is to write a humorous rant.
I want to have a rant about ants there are far too many ants carrying heaps of sand taking over lands they think they own the place they are such a disgrace tickling me at night giving me a fright they are all around the house worse when there’s a drought this is a little rant about ants crowding over plants a long trail of ants from the bathroom up the walls walking down the halls they don’t seem to care loitering everywhere ants but I don’t kill ants I give them a chance just a little sprinkle of cinnamon sends them away they don’t like the taste ants hatching their plans to take over the world they don’t seem concerned about the virus or this crisis these ants they’re making me prance I’m so over ants
I’d rather have a butterfly floating through the house or somewhere thereabouts…
Day 17. The moon just wants what’s best for you and your poems. So yes – write a poem that is about, or that involves, the moon.
Sometimes I walk in on magic, the kind that gently blends… it scatters hardened fragments, it delicately transcends…
Caressing me in muted tones, I’m kissed by the moon, I dance in her aura, across the caramel dunes… I bask in the softness of her opaline shades, saturated in wonder, I watch as daylight fades…
lighting the skies with magic, she spills over hallowed grounds, I can almost feel the presence of heaven all around…
no words are necessary to bring me back to grace, for she beams at me through translucent mists, with love-light on her face!
she is the reflection of everlasting-light, keeping me lucid even on darkest night!
Day 15. I’m asked to think about a small habit I picked up from one of my parents, and then to write a piece that explores an early memory of my parent engaged in that habit, before shifting into writing about myself engaging in the same habit.
I had to think hard about this one, I have tried diligently not to pick up any habits from my parents, you know the bad ones, or the eccentric ones. I should ask my siblings, they may know if I have any! But for the life of me I can’t think of anything… Oh except perhaps falling asleep in front of the TV and then pretending that I am awake… it’s called denial and no it’s not a river in Africa! My Dad would fall asleep with his glass of whiskey in hand and if I turned the TV off while he was in a low rumbling snore, he would wake and say “I was watching that!”
P.S. If anyone out there in cyberspace thinks of anything else please contact me on zzzzzzzzzzz
Day 14. The challenge is to write a poem that delves into the meaning of my first or last name.
“Who in the world am I? Ah, that’s the great puzzle.” ― Lewis Carroll , Alice in Wonderland
I’d love to think I am noble, incorruptible, worthy and honest, good, upstanding and decent. Named by the Angels, made from the dust of stars.
Some have been named after kings and queens, or celebrities but Alison seems quite ordinary.
I was named after a girl they met on a ship a random rendezvous it never made me feel like I was special.
It was originally a boy’s name in the middle ages then the Scots embraced it.
I fancy myself more an “Alice in wonderland” having tea with the Mad-hatter and the March-Hare becoming “curiouser and curiouser” following the white rabbit conversing with caterpillars and butterflies fun loving and a wee bit crazy.
I would like to think I was named after my Mother, Alice-Mary. I’ve been called Alley-cat Ally McBeal Al Capone and son of Ali.
Not many are famous with this name except Ali MacGraw from “Love Story”. It doesn’t seem as memorable as Angelina or Beyonce.
Alison means lover of animals and nature rider of the super-tube adventurer, tree-hugger, stargazer, cosmic swimmer, flower admirer, barefoot believer, free-spirited, dancer, warrior, braver than the rest artist, poet and dreamer, seer of light in every being, believer in magic and the miraculous, a follower of the mystics, and all the other things I’ve made up in my head!
But I’m glad to be called Alison or Ally for short!
Day 13. This one is short and sweet: write a poem in the form of a news article you wish would come out tomorrow.
The terrible virus that ruined our lives has ended. It died out at the end of last year and we are free again-free to hug, free to touch, free to dance and free to kiss. We can go and visit Granny again and have lunch at the Bistro with our sister. We can go to the barber shop and cut our hair, and on the way home sit together on a park bench. We can be human again, the way we are meant to be. No more jobs will be lost as we return to normal. There’s no fear that the virus will return, because it’s been eradicated by a new miracle medicine discovered by the indigenous people of Peru. There are celebrations everywhere, and the good news is that while we were at home on lockdown, global warming was halted, bird life has returned to the beaches, plant life is being restored. Whales are increasing in numbers and the ice caps are no longer melting. There are more opportunities for land owners, seed banks are open and free. It seems as though everyone is getting a slice of the pie. The poor will be housed and fed-it’s a strange thing, the rich are giving away their fortunes to save the earth. It’s unprecedented. They are calling it the age of Aquarius. People everywhere are saying that John Lennon was a prophet and they are singing his songs in the streets… It really is a beautiful sight to see! “you may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one. I hope someday you’ll join us, and the world will live as one.”
Day 12. “Past and Future.” This prompt challenged me to write a poem using at least one word/concept/idea from one of two specialty dictionaries… See below
When she touched down, she knew not hate, a galactic star-farer moving through space, from Alpha Centauri her atman was free living as a flower-child she knew not greed!
they shared their possessions, they shared their wealth consuming earth-food, they preserved their health.
She had grown into the love of other-worlds, groggled by everything she’d heard about earth.
She had imagined utopia since she was a child, knowing it was possible though some thought her wild!
then they threatened to erase all her memories, and morph her into some-kind of zombie entity…
requesting departure they begged her to stay, but the Time lords came and beamed her away…
placing her gently into cryo-sleep, they untethered her soul and moved at light-speed. they travelled through nebula and galactic time-storms, until soma was lifted from every life-form!
and all earthlings became radiant as they lit up the skies, released from dystopia they were truly divine!
Appendix From the Historical dictionary of Science fiction
Groggled-astonished, baffled, bewildered. Star-farer an interstellar traveler. Time-storm-a disturbance in time which can bring people and things from different times into the same timeline. Soma-in Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World: a narcotic drug which produces euphoria and hallucination, distributed by the state in order to control the population by promoting content and social harmony. Dystopia-an imaginary place or state of affairs in which conditions are extremely bad Utopia-a place, state, or condition ideally perfect in respect of politics, laws, customs, and conditions.
wake from your slumber come down to the beach, merge with blue skies and touch the choppy seas, pick up remembrance speak to temperate winds, let the sands of therapy touch your skin. down by the waters you’ll feel your breath again, as you stand in the shallows watching fisher-folk come in…
I woke up this morning and I heard your call, looking up the tides tired of these four walls. I knew that the ether would clear my groggy head, so I turned back the covers and stumbled out of bed. I watched seagulls dip and mussel crackers dive, the fragrance of the ocean brought me back to life! Now there’s sand in my shoes and salt in my hair, I’m grateful for the memories and the answer to my prayers…
Day 10. I didn’t feel like following the prompt today….
“dense thoughts weighed me down the sky was filled with empty sounds and the moon abandoned this dark night night-birds warbled out of sight beds of blankness were everywhere shadows danced without a care!”
