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Poetry 101 Rehab: Skin

Poetry 101 Rehab: Skin

Do you miss the Writing 201: Poetry course by the Daily Post? Then join this blogging challenge, Poetry 101 Rehab, that will provide your poetry fix!

How It Works

Each Monday at 01:00 pm UTC I will publish a poetry prompt along with my response to it. You are invited to answer the prompt, twist it or ignore it; write a poem of your own or share a poem by another author.

I would love to hear about your inspiration, your creative process or other poetry related thoughts, but this is no way obligatory. Nothing is obligatory in this challenge, the idea is to get together, talk poetry and have fun!

How You Can Join

Anyone can participate, anytime you want. Publish your poetry post and add a link to it to the InLinkz link-up below my post, or share your link in a comment. Use the tag Poetry 101 Rehab, so we can find each other in the Reader.

I will act as your hostess, and I’ll be here for you to reply your comments, read your verses, like and comment. While my blog is the starting point for the challenge, do visit fellow poets in the link-up and chat to them on their blogs!

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The Prompt: Skin

Peeling the skin

Of a tangerine

Thinking if things

Can feel

 

Being skinned, ripped

Vivisected

Torn apart and

Devoured alive

This week’s prompt is SKIN. My interpretation confuses the culinary and the pathological in keeping with my penchant for the morbid. You are invited to follow your own penchants and inspirations though, be they dark or more light-hearted. What will your take on the keyword SKIN be? Blog about it in a poetry post and share your link below!

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Power Blackout; or, Apocalypse Now

Power Blackout; or, Apocalypse Now

I grew up in a one-street village situated (in)conveniently at the bottom of a valley surrounded by woods and wine. Whoever founded the settlement was clearly wasted: while the sunny slopes of the hills did provide a nice site to plant grape vine, rain water tended to flow down the slopes and flood the village on the regular. I also blame said village founder, deceased since about the Middle Ages, for not foreseeing that the villagers of the future will be addicted to electricity and won’t be chuffed with the frequent power blackouts for whose frequent occurrence in the valley there is a scientific explanation which I don’t remember.

The village natives took the blackouts with a stiff upper lip, though they weren’t even British. My mother looms large in my memory as the candle fairy – not to be confused with candy fairy – as she roamed the rooms of the house carrying a lit candle and dripping wax on the carpets. The blackouts weren’t that bad as long as the stove ran on gas, the heating on wood (hence the rapidly thinning woods behind our house) and the TV mostly didn’t run at all anyway. The situation grew worse with the advent of the computer and escalated quickly with the arrival of the dial-up internet (though the latter mostly didn’t run anyway).


Now I would kill for Wi-Fi – though I will deny it at the court of law because my blog was hijacked and I’m not even writing this. I live in a moderately sized small town (provided that a small town can be otherwise than small), large enough to boast a reliable power supply because no one wants TV-less and Wi-Fi-less people taking to the streets each time when there’s a little rain or wind or whatever else upsets the volts and watts. Recently I experienced the first major blackout here. To say that it was apocalyptic would be a gross understatement.

It started – as could be reasonably expected – with a Wi-Fi failure. My email client wouldn’t download my mail. After composing a less than flattering letter of complaint addressed to Microsoft Outlook® (composing mentally, that is, deprived as I was of both email and outlook), it occurred to me to check the Wi-Fi connection. It was down. However, Bill Gates helpfully advised that I search the Internet for help when the Internet isn’t working. What a practical tip – not. Also, I suspect that Bill wasn’t as smart as publicity suggests.

As I averted my eyes from the laptop in sheer frustration, I noticed that the thermostat on the wall grew blank. Does it run on Wi-Fi, as do I? As I stood up to investigate, I saw that the clock of the oven grew blank too. What an odd coincidence. It almost looks as though there was a power blackout. Wait. It is a power blackout! I was puzzled, bemused and sad. What a bloody betrayal of civilisation! I curled up on the floor next to my cat, who was ignorant of the tragedy that befell us, and waited for the renewal of life energy. The wait took a while.


Did I mention I was waiting? I waited until the floor got cold because the floor heating, while it doesn’t use Wi-Fi, still uses electricity. I waited until I grew hungry, which was too bad, because my pantry was only stocked with microwave meals, instant noodles and toast. I wasn’t sufficiently starved out to eat uncooked toast. I couldn’t use the toaster, the kettle, the stove – and I couldn’t use Google to search for a wilderness survival kit (neither could I use Bing, even if I chose to descend so low). I had a vague notion that you should hide under the table in emergency, but maybe I’m confusing it with a nuclear emergency.

Driven by hunger, I descended as low as I could – that is, downstairs. I was pleased to see that the stairway was lit, however creepily, with emergency lights. (I’m aware that I used the word emergency three times in the last three sentences, but it’s an emergency!) I headed to the convenience shop conveniently situated on the ground floor of my block of flats to get some rolls. Alas, the shop was shut due to power cut. Don’t say. This was a relatively cheerful discovery in contrast to the subsequent finding that the house lift apparently runs on electricity too. I live on the sixth floor.


By the time I climbed up to the cold, dark and (most shockingly) Wi-Fi-less flat, I nearly incurred a blackout myself. I’m not terribly athletic, to say the least. My heavy heaving woke up the cat, who yawned, made a yoga cat-cow and casually approached to observe me experiencing a seizure akin to an anaphylactic shock. The cat grew bored and abandoned her dying can- and door-opener after five minutes. I kept on hyperventilating somewhat longer.

Resilient as I am, I decided to test if instant noodle soup can be brought to life with warm tap water when hot water isn’t available. Guess what. It can’t. The result tasted as I imagine a piece of plastic immersed in lukewarm water would taste – nasty. Serve me right for having silly thoughts of food when I had a fridge full of booze. I poured a nice glass of white, curled up with a book and grabbed the cat to sustain my bodily temperature on her heat. At that point the power went back on. Wine solves everything.

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Dark Side Thursday: It’s Not My Birthday, and It’s Not Even Thursday

Dark Side Thursday: It’s Not My Birthday, and It’s Not Even Thursday

This is my idiosyncratic (not to be confused with idiotic) contribution to Andy Townend’s Dark Side Thursday challenge. It’s a bright take on my dark side, so it’s no match to Andy’s very own cemetery serial story or Desleyjane’s inaugural contribution describing her own murder.


I woke up to a bunch of birthday wishes today, and it’s not even my birthday. The internet thinks that it is, though, so the reality is irrelevant. It’s all the fault of my dark side. My dark side thinks that my birthday is nobody’s business, so when I registered for Facebook, I filled in a fake date.

Telling the date when I was born isn’t a big deal, but that’s how it starts: you give Facebook your birthdate and the next thing they’ll want your measurements. I didn’t feed Facebook a random date though. I used the other most important date of my life: not my wedding date (which was smart, considering that I divorced), but my graduation date. Graduating is a much more memorable achievement than being born or being married.


Now how to explain it to the mislead well-wishers. I received lovely birthday wishes from a dear fellow blogger the first thing in the morning. When I texted back with a thanks and an observation that it wasn’t my birthday, my poor friend was devastated. I also mentioned that my birthday was actually in July, but I accidentally typed June, on which I corrected myself, and now I think she thinks I wasn’t even born at all.

That much to my credibility. A better informed well-wisher, better informed because he eavesdropped on the previous awkward conversation, proceeded to wish me a happy unbirthday. I suppose it’s better than an unhappy birthday. I unthanked him anyway. I’m just like the Queen in reverse: I celebrate my official birthday in spring while it’s actually in summer.

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Gallery

Just Thursday Blog Hop: Mundane Phoneography 1-21/365

Each week, Rebekah, Nuvofelt and I invite you to celebrate the mundane in the Just Thursday blog hop. The idea is to focus on something that is ordinary for you but might not be so ordinary for others. You are invited to blog about your everyday and share a link to your blog post in the comments.

For this Thursday, I have decided to share a new challenge that I set to myself. It’s a slight modification of the Photo Project 365 which I already completed. Now I would like to take and hopefully also post a photo a day, specifically a photo of my mundane everyday, snapped with my phone. No post scheduling, no using of archive photos this time.

I have been toying with this idea for a few weeks: I even started taking a photo a day and posting it on my private test blog to see if I can keep it up. So far, so good, so now I’m coming out of the private blogging closet and presenting the first three weeks of my new Phoneography Project 365.

Poetry 101 Rehab: Dark

Poetry 101 Rehab: Dark

Do you miss the Writing 201: Poetry course by the Daily Post? Then join this blogging challenge, Poetry 101 Rehab, that will provide your poetry fix!

How It Works

Each Monday at 01:00 pm UTC I will publish a poetry prompt along with my response to it. You are invited to answer the prompt, twist it or ignore it; write a poem of your own or share a poem by another author.

I would love to hear about your inspiration, your creative process or other poetry related thoughts, but this is no way obligatory. Nothing is obligatory in this challenge, the idea is to get together, talk poetry and have fun!

How You Can Join

Anyone can participate, anytime you want. Publish your poetry post and add a link to it to the InLinkz link-up below my post, or share your link in a comment. Use the tag Poetry 101 Rehab, so we can find each other in the Reader.

I will act as your hostess, and I’ll be here for you to reply your comments, read your verses, like and comment. While my blog is the starting point for the challenge, do visit fellow poets in the link-up and chat to them on their blogs!

 badge-rectangle

The Prompt: Dark

Put the dress on

Turn the light off

Walk from the dark

In the street light

 

Stand under a lamp

Look out for men

Who will pay

 

Working away

Being brave

This week’s prompt is DARK. My response to my own prompt is appropriately dark, however, you can go in an entirely different direction. Perhaps you’d like to meditate on the contrast of the dark and the light? Or you’d prefer to write about your favourite dark-coloured thing, like chocolate? You choose how you use and tweak this prompt! What will your take on the keyword DARK be? Blog about it in a poetry post and share your link below!

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Stretch

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Ella is stretching sleepily. It’s tough being a cat.