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On the tenth day of Christmas, the Pig Pen gave to me
ten bloody sieges,
nine forged letters,
eight sweet loaves,
seven stray hoofprints,
six postgrad students,
five diamond rings,
four fairy tales,
three French towns,
two bare fists,
and a lampstand nearly all lit!
Today's the Tenth of Tevet, a Jewish minor fast commemorating the beginning of the siege of Jerusalem by King Nebuchadnezzar. Write about hunger.
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What is hunger
Before it's satisfied
Organs trembling
Nerves firing
Stretched too tight
Lethargic
Movement, survival
Dissolving digested
With the earth
Peanut butter honey banana sandwiches
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A cluster of vultures
patiently waiting their turn
where the deer carcass lays
along the railroad track.
They shift and flap
rip into unfeeling flesh
leap away to make room
for the next worshipper.
A black mass in honor
of death and hunger,
a last compassionate act
in a world without mercy.
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(01-03-2023, 09:44 PM)TranquillityBase Wrote: A cluster of vultures
...
Dang Tim, you're quick at working the prompts, and this is a really good piece of work.
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(01-05-2023, 05:31 AM)Mark A Becker Wrote: (01-03-2023, 09:44 PM)TranquillityBase Wrote: A cluster of vultures
...
Dang Tim, you're quick at working the prompts, and this is a really good piece of work.
Thanks Mark.
Woke up to a dead male deer in our backyard this morning. First two vultures have arrived. Not the sort of thing you want to enjoy with your morning coffee.
Because of the overdevelopment of the area, the deer have nowhere to go. It's really quite depressing. Good for the vultures I guess.
Tim
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(01-05-2023, 10:48 PM)TranquillityBase Wrote: Woke up to a dead male deer in our backyard this morning. First two vultures have arrived. Not the sort of thing you want to enjoy with your morning coffee.
Because of the overdevelopment of the area, the deer have nowhere to go. It's really quite depressing. Good for the vultures I guess.
Tim
Know how ya feel. We had a big buck blow through our back fence a few years ago. Didn't know about it until a neighbor called to say our dog was pilfering their garage (Jack escaped through the hole in the fence). Dang deer must've been hit by a truck 'cause he was a big boy. Dragged him to the road for pick up, and before he got picked up somebody cut off his rack, and the vultures made a feast of him- interestingly grisly. It got really stinky, too.
Long story short, that's why your poem resonated with me- you can't write that shit unless you experience it.