Sunday, 8 May 2011

Day 5 of Poetry


Gothic Paragraph:

Maria lay in her chamber, reading The Tell-Tale Heart. Like the murderer in the book, her heartbeat was faster than usual. The attic of the mansion which she was renting was chilled with the whisper of the wind, and she found it harder and harder to rationalize her fear.
Suddenly, the bed began to shake. Pictures fell off the walls, furniture fell. Then, in the centre of her room, appeared an apparition. Faintly green in colour, the ghost stood there, eternally stained with blood, mouth gaping.
Maria's mouth mirrored the ghoul as she screamed in terror, and the flickering lights shattered into darkness.

You Need Hands:

Describe a character's hands, the person is somewhere exotic, or out of your imagination. Describing what they're doing with their hands. Use a metaphor to say something about the place. Describe what you would ask this person about the place, and describe what they're doing with their hands.

The hands of the man are strong, pink as if cut off from circulation, although they are not. His pinky fingers oddly stray away from the ring fingers, as if trying to distance the 5th finger as far away as possible from the other fingers of his hand. They are skeletal, yet muscular. You can see the tendons of his hands, but you can't see the veins. Around his right wrist is an orange crumpled wristband, and around his left ring finger is a modest wedding ring. He's spread his fingers out across his knees as he leans forward, looking out across the seats of a theatre. The rows are seemingly never-ending, he sits on the edge of the stage staring out at them. The seats flank the theatre with a blue velvet sea. If I could ask him a question, I'd ask how he feels with the audience flooding the rows, encircling him with all those thousands of eyes. How does he not feel drowned? He brushes his hair off his face, but he does not drag them through his hair, as his hair is too thick with hair product to get his fingers out again without pain.

I am from:

I am from the bed of a zucchini plant
I am from cheese
I am from the red dream diary of my childhood
I am from the shelf in the living room
I am from Hello very much
I am from the small town where I met so many of my friends
I am from ginger snaps
I am from the flower shop
I am from the Skype calls across seas
I am from the Dirty Duck with a sense of anticipation

I was the last person on earth...

I was the last person on earth when the world started again. In fact, I was the last living thing in the universe. The big bang had gone full circle. Life, destruction, death. There were 400 organisms left in all of existence only 2 years ago. Then it thinned out, and I'm the last. The universe has begun to implode after exploding, and I am the eye of the storm. The last light to go out. The last grain of sand through the hour glass. Then, the whole universe regenerates. The history dies. I die. Everything dies. It all stops, then it all starts from the top. There's going to be a whole new world with new scientific principles. Different planets, different species. Different morals, different decisions. And no one will even know we were here.

Julianna xo

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