Sunday, May 23, 2010

Another 7 Day Writing Challenge. Are you up for it?

Those of you relatively new to AppleHouse might not know of two previous 7 Day Writing Challenges, here and here. They weren't as arduous as they might sound! And I'd like to try something similar for the next 7 days. I hope you'll join in and post something for as many of the 7 days as you can.

I've been reading Kim Addonizio's Ordinary-Genius and one of her chapters is called 'three observations'. She says, 'Training our awareness is important, not only for writing, but for experiencing life moment to moment.' She talks about how easily her thoughts can turn on themselves, 'like a cat licking and licking its fur, obsessively grooming', and how making herself really 'see' three things, in detail, helps her tune into the world.

So, each day for the next 7 days, until the end of May, I'm going to post 3 things I have observed, and I invite you to post yours. We may not write a poem in response to our observations, but an image may stick and turn up in one at some point. But even if we end up using nothing we've written, there is no waste in writing because we have been engaged in the act that connects us to the world. There is nothing wasteful about that.

If you do decide to join in and you don't already follow the blog, then it might help if you do become a follower, as then you'll receive an email notification of my daily post.

I'm going to remove the spam protector (Comment Moderation) for the next week too. It seems that the mysterious japanese spammer has left the building, and I much prefer the spontaneity of being able to see your posts immediately on the blog.

Look out for the first of 7 posts tomorrow, Monday 24th May.

Write well.
L x


Glenn Buttkus said...


A tall glass spiraled vase holding 18 peach roses
interspersed with ferns, baby's breath, and dried
shoots of unknown origin, sitting on a ceramic
coaster decorated with a Dutch design, tulips
and windmills, midships on our hand polished
oak table that my wife searched out within
the wilds of Amish woodworking sheds on the
prairie in Pennsylvania, orange-yellow petals
undulating ever so slowly as the sun shards
dance through the lace curtains and dance
on their happy faces.
What happens to your visual system when
you segue from an eight-year old RCA
28" television that had served you well
for just electronically shy of a decade,
to the digital wonders of a 37" Sanyo
LCD HD flat screen TV where even the
less developed clarity of a VHS tape takes
on a new life, and while watching the
last two episodes of the HBO Steven
Spielberg/Tom Hanks collaboration
mini-series THE PACIFIC, I could see
ever so wonderfully the leather on
holsters, the blood on blades, the
blues overlapping in the South Pacific,
the wheat dancing in the fields of
America's heartland as the armed
services Messengers drove up to
those farm houses in their dress
blues, handing out perfectly folded
flags to the weeping families,
and the red-white-and blue on
our nation's emblem stood out like
whirling barber poles, blood on the
sun as chicken fried and old men
cried behind the sheds, in barns,
and in the backs of Buicks.

The new landscaping red and tan brick wall, only a foot tall, each brick looking like three individual
slices of rainbow shale, capped with a matching
flat stone cover, running the 60 feet
across the front of our property, parallel to
the sidewalks of Sumner, on the south side
of the residential street where the sun hangs
out longer, drawing one's eye first to the burst
of color on the natural slate we covered the
front porch with, beautiful but slippery in
this Spring's plethora of showers, and then to
the stunning brick work on the house itself;
punctuated with the blushing presence of
of dozens of swatches of planted perennial flowers
and well trimmed bushes my wife takes such
pride in, with black well-hoed soil puffed up
around them like the flakes on delicious pastry.

Lynne Rees said...

Thanks for posting, Glenn. Look forward to reading your other 'three things' throughout the week.

frankthepoet said...

Wind rips at the muddy water between the tower blocks. A glitter-path stretches from the far bank. Four men in orange overalls stand there shaking their heads at each other.

A small blue plastic bag puff itself up above parked cars then very gently wanders off. Below, a yellow school bus makes a beeline between glass towers and is gone.

A thrush touches down softly on my balcony rail. Immediately it changes its mind and lets itself be lifted back by the breeze before wheeling away.

Lynne Rees said...

Hi Frank : ))

Lu said...

I very much enjoyed what and how you wrote, Frank. Looking forward to more of your writings.