the Life and Times of Warrior Woman

blonde recluse. nihilarian pronk.

Posts Tagged ‘writing

poetry of prompts.

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Many moons ago when I fancied myself a writer, I used to have a tonne of writing prompt gadgets on my iGoogle page.  Unfortunately, many of these gadgets are now gone, and I cannot remember the name of this particular one – but I want to share some of the prompts that it generated that I saved.  They read like poetry entirely on their own, thus creating complete visual image and story.  This makes them really bad prompts, but wonderful small pieces of writing.

Some of them make little sense as to time and place (“It is before the time of Christ or Buddha; a crowd is cheering, "vive la France!" is one example), but it doesn’t make them any less haunting.

I hope you’ll enjoy them as much as I did!

 

Tell of a spice trader in the orient

with a yearning to die.

A rainbow is nowhere to be seen;

a woman is hissing like a roasting lamb,

while the city of Athens burns.

.

A gaunt vagabond is begging change

with three spies dressed as nuns.

An old phonograph plays ragtime tunes;

a street urchin is selling stamps,

while the sound of bombs can be heard in the hills.

.

Imagine Penelope sewing a dress

with a broken mandolin.

A choirboy is singing a hymn;

a woman screams, "Ça y est! Ça y est!"

while a man in the shadows loads a rifle.

.

You are starving and miserable

in a fever of panic.

It is before the time of Christ or Buddha;

a crowd is cheering, "vive la France!"

while a woman covers her naked skin with a quilt.

.

A man is cheating on his wife

with a girl with eyes as slender as pearls.

The air is fragrant with hyacinth blossoms;

a man tiptoes past the closed door,

while the monks are drunk on wine.

.

Describe a princess and her chauffeur

with a loaded pistol.

Such pain only comes from wandering;

there is a pound of gold in a sleeping man’s bag

while a mother wonders about her forgotten son.

.

Tell of a spice trader in the orient

in a snow storm.

A train is leaving the station;

a woman screams, "Ça y est! Ça y est!"

while the children sing and play.

.

A cook is serving stale bread and tainted meat

with a basket of salamanders.

The moon travels over a soulless stretch of sand;

the world is falling apart,

while the king hides in the woods with a shameful secret.

.

Describe a game of Russian roulette

with two tramps licking cheese.

Watching the stream of traffic on the avenue,

a clairvoyant draws the hanged man,

while two children are lost in the street.

.

Describe Adam and Eve in an argument

with a humble family of corn farmers.

A gentle snow begins to fall;

a woman is hissing like a roasting lamb,

while a monk reads Ovid in his monastery cell.

.

You are sitting in a restaurant in Barcelona

with a wet rag.

The sky is of sweet buttered cream;

and we drink tea and eat cold apples,

while the king hides in the woods with a shameful secret.

.

Imagine a Nobel Prize winning writer

with a fresh flower coated in dew.

The sky is of sweet buttered cream;

a man tiptoes past the closed door,

while the executioner sharpens his sword.

.

A man is pawning stolen jewellery

with girls in white dresses.

Then evening comes to dim the vast wilderness;

two policemen enter,

while two children are lost in the street.

.

A clown escapes from the circus

with a wet rag.

Everything is plush velvet and satin;

a woman screams, "Ça y est! Ça y est!"

while the nurse enters with a sleeping pill.

.

You are at a bar in China Town

with a pouch of garlic and salt.

The clouds are swollen and yellow;

the nurses push blond babies in strollers,

while a servant wipes up the floor.

.

A dandy is strolling down the Nevsky Prospect

with a trunk filled with heroin.

Is it not great to be alive?..

a clairvoyant draws the hanged man,

while a woman weeps over things forever lost.

.

Imagine a man who has visions of ghosts

with a yearning to die.

The sky is of sweet buttered cream;

a baron walks in with a knife,

while the subway workers are on strike.

.

Describe Adam and Eve breaking up

with a wilted dandelion.

In the soft naivety of springtime noon,

you are kissing someone twice your age,

while a servant wipes up the floor.

.

The priest is healing all of the believers

with two lovers having a spat.

such love one has at times like these!..

swindlers are planning a heist,

while two children are lost in the street.

Written by Alexandra

27 September 2012 at 7:43 pm

like a circle.

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Do you ever do this?  Dig up old projects in order to either finish one of them so you could have something completed, or get inspiration for a new one — so you could have something completed.  But in the end you find yourself having spent three hours of digging through pages of unfinished stories or articles, tweaking gigabytes of badly edited photographs or scans of drawings, moving around metres of yarn and fabric.  And when you’ve understood the futility of it all and declare yourself done with that, you realise you’ve no energy left to truly complete something — be it old or new.

I do this all the time.  I’ve been doing this for the past three days or so.

Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, but expecting different results. — Albert Einstein

Written by Alexandra

7 August 2012 at 1:40 pm

selective sclerosis.

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This is the first time I’ve completely forgotten about NaNoWriMo since … 2001. I think. Definitely 2002. Damn.

Damn.

I never manage to write 50k in a month, btw. I think the closest I’ve come to completing was about 30… Including background work and research. About 17k of actual storyline.

I’m all nostalgic now. It’s a good thing all my horrid writing is on my poor still broken still in repair shop laptop. Otherwise I’d be tempted to do awful things like maybe reviving those plots.

Okay, I’m off to weep in this wave of nostalgia a little.

Written by Alexandra

2 November 2009 at 2:45 pm