This week's proto-poems

 These ones need more work than the others, but I like some lines from them. The first one is based on a story my papa told about his brief time in Japanese-controlled Cambodia at the end of the war. For the final line, I originally had 'of those who [...]' but quickly decided that it didn't matter who specifically, because all of us are dangerous, under the right circumstances.

First prompt: something dangerous passed down

The sword is sharp,

even after years of being hidden in the attic.

Hidden with words too,

We mustn't speak of this sharp-edged symbol of war,

but in whispers.

There was a tale he saw a man's head cut off, 

was it this sword?

Did it know how to cut flesh,

break bone,

and never flinch?

Or was it, after all, just some metal shaped into a blade,

and danger lurks elsewhere,

in the minds and hands and deeds

of us.

Second prompt: a time when you were dangerous

I've never been dangerous in my life,

probably because I've never been in danger;

been surrounded by softness,

a warm home to come back to,

that was never in any danger of being taken away.

Or if there was danger,

I was steered away,

sheltered from,

so that I never saw the world

as a hard and sharp space,

but something to be embraced

in a warm and gentle hug.

But with the rug pulled from underneath 

so many feet,

it doesn't matter now that I'm not in any danger;

I will be dangerous for others.

Two more proto-poems

 Another useful early morning session with Marjorie Lotfi's Substack writing group.

First prompt: describe yourself using things that you love (Ways to Love Myself)

Why does the wind soughing through the trees

sound like the waves lapping at the shore;

the sound of a flock of birds taking off from the sand,

a flick of pages from a book 

that was constantly in my hand,

you couldn't prise it from me 

as I sought to glean words and meaning from the world around me.

Second prompt: losing yourself 

When I lost myself

it was not because I was trying so hard to be something I was not,

but rather something that I thought I should be.

No one explicitly told me,

You must do this,

This is how it should be;

I drifted along,

following the pull of the tide

but always a bit asklant,

never quite sure,

if this was the way it was supposed to go.

And I lost myself, somewhere in the ebb and flow of the world.

Two proto-poems

So I joined a writing group on Substack, run by the lovely Marjorie Lotfi. I'd attended a writing retreat she offered, last autumn. It's a half hour zoom call, with poetry readings and quick prompts for inspiration. I found the similar (longer) workshops that we'd done on the retreat helpful so I thought I'd make the effort to keep my poetry writing going.

I think of these like sketches. It's helpful to have a body of work that I can dip into and play with, rather than starting from scratch. These obviously need work, but I like some of the ideas.

First prompt: a place that mattered (to you)

Climbing Tricksy by the inner garden gate, 

balancing along the wall,

over ivy.

Shuffle up by the chimney pot

and find a spot 

to sit and read.

Spitting apple pips into the void.

Something takes root.

They never saw me there

or if they did 

would stop and stare 

and say what if you fell?

What if I flew?

Second prompt: talking because someone is listening 

The words didn't matter, 

it wasn't what I was saying

but that I was speaking at all.

Thoughts spilling out of me

all tumbled together

like when we broke the dam

that we had built at the beach

and the stream water flowed freely

all the way to the sea.

Writing prompt snippet: a confrontation

 Niss heard the clink of something being left in the large metal bowl. Silence for a beat, then the sun-walker started talking, getting louder all the time. She sounded angry. Niss wondered who she was talking to. She hadn't heard anyone else.

Footsteps, walking away. Niss crept out from her hiding space and made for the bowl that sat in front of the Old One. A handful of batteries. Good. The others would be pleased. 

She scooped them up and turned to head back through the tunnels, but her hands were dusty from crawling and one of the batteries slipped through her fingers and fell to the floor.

"Hey!" 

Niss reached down and grabbed the errant battery, before hopping through the rubble and back to safety. Dropping to all fours, she started to head for home.

She heard a noise behind her, and something touched her foot. She kicked out. There was a sharp cry, and she gave a quick grin that soon faded when her foot was grabbed.

"That's stealing, you sacrilegious little shit." 

Niss scrabbled at the sides of her tunnel, but couldn't catch hold of anything. She was pulled back out into the nasty open space.

The sun-walker grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her round, only to shove her away again at the last second. Niss stumbled backwards onto the floor.

She tried to get up, but her ankle hurt, and she stifled a sob. She grasped the batteries tightly in her small hand.

Writing Prompt Snippet: Something precious stolen

 I found a little lead plant ID label the other day while walking the dog. It must have been for some variety of primula, as I could see the letters PRIM stamped onto it.  I put it in my pocket and took it home.  I found a tiny glass jar for it and sat it on the table. Then today I was racking my brains about what the "stolen treasure" could be in the writing prompt that Stephen gave me for our challenge. I decided the lead tag had to be something to do with it, and then I decided that young Niss from the first prompt was in the same story as Asha.

Asha is looking for the Primogenitor sample because she's been hired to find it. Niss is interested in the sample because it's what she and her kind were originally created from. They are hypersensitive to sunlight, it ages them prematurely, and the older you are, the more it affects you. So the young children of their kind are the ones that interact with the human world, until they can't. Humans regard them as monsters that live in the shadows and forgotten places, and hope that they will eventually die out.

Asha's reluctant alliance with Niss is purely to retrieve the sample.

Asha put her shoulder to the door and shoved. It gave a little. She wedged the end of the crowbar into the gap and glanced around for her companion. 

Niss crawled out from underneath an abandoned truck and hung back in the shadows.

"Hey, you, get over here."

Asha grunted as she yanked the crowbar outwards. The door gave a creaking groan, and then something cracked.

Asha kicked at the base of the door and it finally swung open. She nodded her head towards the opening and Niss scuttled forward into the darkness. Pausing a moment to turn on her torch, Asha followed cautiously.

The centre of the lab was trashed, broken glass beakers and sensors strewn across the floor. A table lay on its side at the end of the room, blocking off another doorway.

Flicking the torch from one side to the other, Asha picked her way through the mess. The glass crunched underfoot. She dragged the table to the side and shone the torch into the space beyond.

"Hey, small thing, where are you?"

Niss ran forward.

"You go check it out."

Niss disappeared into the darkness, returning almost seconds later to tug at Asha's coat.

She followed the young girl into the room, holding the torch above her head to cast a wider spread of light.

The case was empty. In the dim light, Asha could see a metal tag lying on the table, twisted out of shape. The letters PRIM were just visible.

The Primogenitor sample was gone. 

Creative Play

 I need to get back into writing. I've got a full book to edit, and I do really just love juggling words around and seeing what shapes they make as they land on the page.

I recently had a friend staying over the winter break, and we both wanted to work on our writing. We did a couple of writing sessions in a coffee shop in town, but the thing that really helped me was sitting down and giving each other timed prompts. We each chose a double-part prompt for the other, and set a 15 minute timer.

It didn't feel like work, it felt like playing. It was scary knowing the time was ticking down and I still didn't have anything written on the page, but the second time was easier. 

For the first one, I couldn't think how to start, so I did a bit of brainstorming on the page just to put pen to paper. The prompt was "a young girl, looking up a shadowy staircase". I wanted to know WHO the girl was, WHERE the staircase led to, WHY it was shadowy and WHAT the emotions were that I wanted to convey. And then I wanted to subvert initial expectations. 

Once I'd got those in place, it was easier to begin writing. I decided that the shadows weren't scary, they were safe; it was the patches of light that held the danger. I wanted her to be determined to reach her goal and confident that she knew how to achieve it. 

Niss scanned the steps before her. There were patches of shadow scattered across her route, and she totted up the distances between them; how many steps from one patch of safety to the next.

The harsh light poured in through the gaps in the walls. She'd have to move quickly. Pulling her hood over her head, she darted up the staircase. At the top she paused, and surveyed the corridor ahead. From the plans, she knew that her target was located in one of the far rooms. The ceiling here had collapsed, leaving whole swathes of the floor in sunlight.

The next prompt was "a religious idol; a worshipper who is not content". I found this time it was much easier to begin, and only jotted a few brief notes before starting to write.

The chapel was out of the way, and it took Asha almost half a day to get there. She'd left early, so as to be sure of getting back before night fell on the ruins.

Eventually she spotted the entrance to the alley that led to her destination. Sandwiched between the tall buildings, it almost looked like a dead end, but among the rubble and debris she spotted the door.

She tore away the plywood that boarded it up, and stepped into the gloom. 

It was a mostly empty space, long since stripped of the wooden pews, and any valuable metal taken away to be melted down.

The idol was placed on the raised end of the room, staring with empty eyes at an invisible congregation. Asha approached and typed her prayer into the keypad at the side.

The idol's eyes flickered to life and Asha grudgingly crouched in front of it to drop a handful of batteries in the offering bowl.

After we'd both read our snippets out loud, we had to choose our favourite of the other person's for them to develop with a further prompt. I'm to develop the world/character from the second one, with the additional prompt of "something precious stolen". 

(The first two prompts I gave were "a talisman, in a sci fi world" and "a technological world overtaken by nature; a struggle". I then chose the first one for my friend to develop, with the additional prompt of "an incident over food".)

If you feel inspired by any of these prompts, I'd love to see what you come up with!