04-23-2016, 04:33 AM
First an Anchor
Properly kept place,
only rising so high,
sailing so far, or drifting away
as heavy iron will allow.
Strong hulled, but not enough to haul.
Ingenious, but again not enough
to cut, or melt free.
Every new storm more trying than the one before.
Each wave a mountain with a fast fall.
As new barnacle crusts come,
I sink perceptively lower, another year gone.
My varnish is rough and sloughing off,
brittle to the touch.
Just another vulnerable vessel,
I am losing my buoyancy--
until lost completely.
One day the ship I was will vanish,
a muddy relic on the bottom, under pressure.
Well I started looking in here the other day. I couldn't think of anything in regard to chickens other than playing chicken and of a chicken who survived considerable time without his head by injections of liquid nutrition via a syringe without its head (until it choked without its head).
I did write something for this prompt (if you don't mind).
Todd--I enjoy your satirical bent in Cruz, 2016.
Properly kept place,
only rising so high,
sailing so far, or drifting away
as heavy iron will allow.
Strong hulled, but not enough to haul.
Ingenious, but again not enough
to cut, or melt free.
Every new storm more trying than the one before.
Each wave a mountain with a fast fall.
As new barnacle crusts come,
I sink perceptively lower, another year gone.
My varnish is rough and sloughing off,
brittle to the touch.
Just another vulnerable vessel,
I am losing my buoyancy--
until lost completely.
One day the ship I was will vanish,
a muddy relic on the bottom, under pressure.
Well I started looking in here the other day. I couldn't think of anything in regard to chickens other than playing chicken and of a chicken who survived considerable time without his head by injections of liquid nutrition via a syringe without its head (until it choked without its head).
I did write something for this prompt (if you don't mind).
Todd--I enjoy your satirical bent in Cruz, 2016.
"Write while the heat is in you...The writer who postpones the recording of his thoughts uses an iron which has cooled to burn a hole with." --Henry David Thoreau