Ad Pater, 57 Years Old

You are as young as the morning dew
And more sprightly than a thousand Lady Gagas

Let us rejoice while we are young.

Free Write at the Soviet Glory

The card we drew this time as the theme of our writing was "opossum"... paired with "burned telephone."

So proceeds our brilliance:


from Jordan:

from L'Abri:

From Gabe:

 

Mine: 

Modern Times

I see the Moon
and the Moon sees me
God bless the Moon
and God bless me

I pay the man
and the man pays me
God bless the man
and God bless me

writer's block broken

A thought, fleeting and fine, 
can stir the ethos and transform the mind.
There's nothing new under the sun
and you should know straight away
that what you've to say 
has already been said. 
But brilliant and new that thought is again--
once it's got into your head!

christmas poem (sonnet?)

"Too tall," he skips along the barbed wire fence,
cheerfully falling out of his mud boots,
scanning the field for one that isn't bent,
twisted, bare, brown, withered, hunched, or knotted.
"There it is!" he exclaims, pointing, sprinting
towards the perfect cedar, branches soaring,
6 feet of needles, thick trunk cemented.
Trembling with ardor, he began swinging.
He chopped and sawed and flung his axe,
til Dad stepped in, with one vigorous swoop,
and fell the tree, trunk leaning on the fence.
"Time to drag it back," he said, and grabbed it,
handing off the heavy axe to the boy
who could hardly wait to share the story.

writer's block...obviously

something beautiful,
something brave,
something handsome in every way,
something to say that hasn't been said,
it's a loaded gun and dead end...
"Don't even think abaaaut it." 

The Memory of a Morning

a memory I lay out before me:

of sunlight slant
and bedroom morning air
accenting the syllables
of manifold beauties pronounced

oh how the delicate turnings
of phrase in a face's form
may suggest, may evince
untellable loveliest things
of the fount of the woman who spoke!

I read her all and studied with care
the execution! the eloquence!
well-said! well-said! I honored her motion
her rhyme
and pleased to so bring in the day

but alas! our days have nights
and our springs their inverdant winters
that we might love the days and springs the more
that by our missing we might gain them
better next we met

thus duty called her forth from our new home
and I sought shortly with intent
with gifts to bid my fluent darling part

but time withheld its favor from my design
and winter's night came harsh and early
to the sound of crashing worlds

and there stood I for a moment
mid-road
slack-jawed and bloodless
with a flower and a banana in my hand