15th Oct 2017
So, yes, it's been ages since I posted anything on the blog . To be honest it's been a fraught few weeks with family needing my attention .
I had intended to join the OCTPOWRIMO challenge of a poem a day for the month of October but here we are on the 15th of the month and i haven't even made a start.
So, what to do?
Shall I just pick it up from here and write to today's prompt?
Shall I go to the prompts from the very beginning and try to catch up?
Shall I not bother and go do something else?
Trying to catch up seems like a mammoth task, but ....
So the prompt for the 1st Oct:
How did I get here...
Look at her tiny, chubby fingers
holding her grandad's thumb.
Look at her bright blue eyes
searching the face of her mum.
Look at her whispy, fair curls
like many of our grandbabies had.
I wonder, how did I get here
great grandmother-proud and glad
And the prompt for 2nd Oct:
We Write Because We Must...
How many times I wished we didn't have to.
She never had a problem , writing
came easy to her.
I would stare at my white, clean page,
maybe put a heading at the top,
copied from the board,
always with mistakes, but she would have
half a page written before I looked up.
I would steal her rubber and hide it under
my bag,
I would move my pencil case around
on my desk
putting it in her way
She would get cross and push it back
She was concentrating
I would doodle in the corner of the page
She would turn over
and start a new one...
and then the teacher would notice me
and tell me to get on.
So I tried and sometimes the page
was half filled with words by the end
of the lesson.
And the prompt for 3rd Oct:
Taste Of Metal...
It was always one of the first signs
that metallic taste in the mouth.
All nine times, it brought the joyous
expectation of new life.
I simply LOVED your day one offering. I hope to one day be able to experience this. I'll have to start with becoming a grandma first ;)
ReplyDeleteI also really enjoyed your take on day 2, so different from mine! It took me back to days long gone, when I sat in school, afraid of writing something wrong, and thus not writing.
And the last poem... I smiled at the second line. Again, I knew what you were referring to. It must have been a beautiful sign indeed, once you knew to recognise it :)