Another short one tonight. Been a bit limited about what I can do and when over the last few days. Right when I need to be focused. I think I may be pushing myself a little too hard but there is so much I want to get done and I never fee like there is enough time. Ah well, crippling chronophobia and that feeling that I never do enough are a pair of bitches.
Here is a poem. The prompt is ‘wilderness’ and comes from the prompts we made up last night at Do The Write Thing. In fact, there were a load that Keri has just thrown at me so I may use a few, but I’m not going to patronise you and signpost them all. That and I’m feeling a little lazy.
The pink almost-velvet duvet
flows from my knees down the bed,
a scarlet waterfall cascading into
a deep blue nylon pool.
This pool is edged by wood,
white and unnaturally ordered. The
wood is built upon by a brick, that brick
adorned with the white shavings of
once proud trees.
It is those bricks that separate this
idyll from the wilderness beyond.
The primitive inhabitants that neighbour
our utopic playground have
seemingly been untouched, or at least
uninterested, by the progression of
society and its norms. Their calls pierce
the air throughout the nights. Are these mating
cries? Perhaps a means of locating others in their tribe.
Maybe even distress. Their meaning in
unknown.What we do know is they disturb other
species native to their locale.
Canines bark and howl from dawn til dusk
and from dusk til dawn, unabating no matter
the hour. We here have no slept
for over 2 weeks, despite the
calming nature of our surroundings.
The barking has stopped, surely only
for a while.
Tomorrow we shall investigate.
Never live next door to people who actively
choose to raise their dog to be a twat.
Or at least, make sure you do not live
far away from a kebab shop.