Hello and welcome to another writer’s Quote Wednesday where I share poems and quotes from some of my favourite poets. Today’s choice poet is Dorothy Parker and I am sharing the first poem of hers, I ever came across. It is titled “a very short song” and I can tell you, it lives up to its title. This poem also goes to show that poetry comes in different length and form.
Most of the poems I share on here are long, but that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy a good short poem. I actually have a few favourites. But coming to today’s poem, it talks about heartbreak in its few lines- both ends of the rope. The character describes how it feels to break a heart and how it feels to be heartbroken and which, she believes is worse.
She writes the poems without much bitterness but rather with a realism and wit which reminds me of billy Collins’s poem- litany, I have no idea why. Here is the poem below and I hope you enjoy it. And thank you for taking part in last week’s question, it was interesting to read your take on what poetry means.
A very short song by Dorothy Parker
Once, when I was young and true,
Someone left me sad-
Broke my brittle heart in two;
And that is very bad.
Love is for unlucky folk,
Love is but a curse.
Once there was a heart I broke;
And that, I think, is worse.
I’ve used the above poem one too many a time as my whatsapp profile picture (don’t ask me why), so i’ld love to hear, do you have any other heartbreak poem. It doesn’t have to be a romantic relationship. Looking forward to getting to know a few more poems from you guys.
“Come in”, Leslie answered from behind her desk without lifting her gaze up.
The door was pushed softly and in walked Tony, in his usual black tee, jeans and bandanna.
“You sent for me boss?” Tony asked, a broad smile on his face.
She looked up, dropped her pen and folded her hands across the table.
“Yes I did.” Leslie replied curtly.
“Does this look like an alternate universe to you“, she began, without necessarily waiting for an answer. “where gnomes go around chasing aliens for the entertainment of humans while we cheer them on”
The smile on Tony’s face faded.
“You only had one job Tony,” Leslie continued, “get me a cover picture that would surprise me and stun the readers. And you decided of all the excitement of this universe to supply me with the shot of an alien and a gnome!”
Tony knew the only thing he could do was apologise, which he did.
“Sorry?” She echoed his apology, “well sorry for yourself!” she replied, hurling the picture at him.
word count: 173. The above story is in response to Flash Fiction For Aspiring writer’s photo prompt challenge, for which I am almost late for, almost. Thank you very much @any1mark66 for this week’s photo.
“Boss“, began D.S Fenworthy before he was shushed to silence by his partner D.I Lucy. She sat with her head, half-out the car window, gazing towards the sky, as had been her position for the past 20 minutes.
“Boss, this is getting ridiculous.” Groaned Fenworthy.
D.I Lucy sighed before turning her gaze to face him in the driver’s seat.
“A few minutes of silence was all I wanted,” she muttered.
“Well, We’ve been sitting in this car for the past four hours“, Fenworthy moaned.
“4 hrs, 37 minutes“, she corrected.
“Yes that. Can’t we leave already.”
D.I Lucy smiled in wonder at how Fenworthy could be surrounded with such beauty- The soothing presence of the golden yellow ombré against a blue background in the sky, the soft whooshing sounds of tree leaves, the cool autumn breeze blowing; yet still find something to moan about.
“Soon Fen.” She answered, knowing he couldn’t decipher her facial expressions in the darkness. And thinking to herself, “some people need a date with nature.”
Word count: 166. The above story is in response. You Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writer’s photo prompt challenge, where each week we are provided with a picture and are to write a 75-175 word story on it. Thank you @footy and foodie for this week’s photo.
“Just look at this place.” D.S Fenworthy gawked at the magnificence of the ancient building in front of them.
“Don’t tell me you’re one of those” replied D.I Lucy, mildly amused at his reaction.
“One of who?” He asked pausing in his tracks.
“Never mind”. D.I Lucy shrugged. Marching into the building, knowing fully well she had touched a nerve with him. Fenworthy was too curious for his own good which was a great thing in his line of work, but a thorn in other aspects of his life.
“One of who boss?“, Fenworthy pressured on. Increasing the pace of his footsteps to catch up with her.
They arrived in front of a ginormous metal gate, with no means of opening. It brought them back to the grim reality of why they were there in the first place. D.I Lucy placed her badge in front of a camera which was embedded on one side of the wall and thought to herself, oh the evils that lurk behind closed doors.
word count: 169. The above story is in response to Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writer’s photo prompt challenge hosted by Priceless Joy, where each week we are provided with a photo and are to write a 75-175 story surrounding it. Thank you very much @majesticgoldenrose for this week’s photo.
“Are we there yet?”, Jamie’s voice shot up.
“Not yet honey, we only just began like five minutes ago”. His mother replied.
A few steps up the rocky hill, Andrea’s voice shot up,
“We there yet?”
“No love, still got some way to climb, okay?” The mother replied as patiently as she could get her voice to sound.
Five minutes passed in peace with only their crunching footsteps disturbing the sound of Mother Nature when Aaliyah spoke up,
Their mother paused in her tracks and faced Aaliyah with such an intense look, little Aaliyah cowered, her gaze downwards and muttered,
“I only wanted to know if I may have some water please.”
Laughter erupted from both Andrea and Jamie because they were pretty sure that wasn’t reason. But as long as mama was consoled, they kept their mouth shut.
Their mother sighed, beginning to regret ever offering to take them on a hiking trip. She placed her hands on her barely visible bump and said,
“You, better behave once you come out.”
Word count: 173. The above story is in response to flash fiction for aspiring writers photo prompt challenge, where each week we are provided with an image and are to write a 75-175 word story in it. Thank you @Pamela S. Canepa for this week’s photo.
Welcome to another Writer’s quote/poem Wednesday, where I share a quote and poem from some of the amazing writers I have come across through reading and listening to poetry. Today’s choice poet is Marge Piercy. High five if you have come across her works before. The poem I chose to share today is one I will recommend to my fellow writers. If you’ve ever been told writing is not a real job, and you should quit it and join the employment pool, then this poem is for you.
For the young who want to- Marge Piercy
Talent is what they say
you have after the novel
is published and favorably
reviewed. Beforehand what
you have is a tedious
delusion, a hobby like knitting.
Work is what you have done
after the play is produced
and the audience claps.
Before that friends keep asking
when you are planning to go
out and get a job.
Genius is what they know you
had after the third volume
of remarkable poems. Earlier
they accuse you of withdrawing,
ask why you don’t have a baby,
call you a bum.
The reason people want M.F.A.’s,
take workshops with fancy names
when all you can really
learn is a few techniques,
typing instructions and some-
body else’s mannerisms
is that every artist lacks
a license to hang on the wall
like your optician, your vet
proving you may be a clumsy sadist
whose fillings fall into the stew
but you’re certified a dentist.
The real writer is one
who really writes. Talent
is an invention like phlogiston
after the fact of fire.
Work is its own cure. You have to
like it better than being loved.
Ah, and just as it came, its departing. Yes, you guessed it right, I am talking about the month of March. The quote above reminds me that as March rolls away, making way for April to waltz right in, so many people would always remember this month as the time when so and so happened. And for others like myself, it would mark the time of transition from one age/stage in life to another. Oh yes, I have officially joined the gang of 21 year olds (I miss saying I’m 20) and now, the only excuse I have left for not getting married is – I am still in university. Only one more year left for that excuse to run out. Oh and the excuse of “I’m not ready yet”, doesn’t work in Northern Nigerian homes.
Do not mind me, and take everything I said in good humor and with a grain of salt. Below is a poem by Emily Dickinson about March, one I absolutely enjoy reading.
Dear March, come in !
How glad I am !
I looked for you before.
Put down your hat-
You must have walked-
How out of breath you are !
Dear March, how are you ?
And the rest ?
Did you leave Nature well ?
Oh, March come right upstairs with me,
I have so much to tell !
I got your letter, and the birds’ ;
The maples never knew
That you were coming, -I declare,
How red their faces grew !
But, March, forgive me-
And all those Hills you left for me to Hue –
There was no Purple suitable –
You took it all with you –
Who knocks? That April –
Lock the Door –
I will not be pursued – “,
He stayed away a Year to call
When I am occupied –
But trifles look so trivial
As soon as you have come.
That blame is just as dear as Praise
And Praise as mere as Blame –
By: Emily Dickinson
“You know the drill, so let’s get moving,” ordered Big Sis, to nods and stamps of the ten year olds assigned to her.
“Batch A, head North.”
“Batch B, East, and mind the slopes.”
“Batch C, continue west and be wary…”
Whatever batch C was supposed to be wary of, nobody found out. Little Jim interrupted by pointing with trembling hands, towards the dead-beat car which had been in that forest for as long as anyone could remember.
“Em, big sis“, he was saying “There’s a snake on the car.”
Big sis smiled, then said “Is that so Jim, just like there was a roach in yesterday’s dinner when you didn’t want to eat.”
Little Jim protested, joined by the other kids.
She reluctantly turned her back to the kids, to face a slithering creature on the car roof.
Big sis swayed on her feet, before slumping to the ground with a thud so loud, it brought Big brother to the site. The kids were never more grateful to have an extra camp master.
word count: 174. This story is In response to Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writers challenge. Where, each week we are provided with a picture and are to write a 75-175 word story in it. A big Thank you to @Tim Livingston for providing us with this week’s photo.
“Is that bleating, I hear?” Inquired Mr. Jones, whilst gripping the steering wheel.
Silence followed his question and he attributed the noise to his ears playing tricks on him. That was until, he heard the same noise again.
“I may be old, but I’m not that old. What is going on?” he demanded.
Silence again. He shook his head, and turned the ignition off to face a pale looking ten year old boy, shaking at the backseat and chewing on his lips.
“Junior?” Mr. Jones raised his brow.
“What had happened was,” began junior, stammering, the goat had looked at him with such pleading eyes that he begged grandpa, to let him bring it along.
Mr. Jones wiped his palm across his forehead and at the warmth of his wife’s hand on his shoulder, swallowed the harsh retort which had sprung to his tongue.
“Well, at least goats aren’t noisy, unlike that grandpa’s parrot”, Mrs Jones joked.
Just then, screeching and squawking noises came from the car boot. All colour drained from Mr. Jones’ face.
word count: 175 words. The above story is in response to Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writers photo prompt challenge, where each week, we are provided with a picture and are to write a 75-175 word story in it.Thank you @majesticgoldenrose for providing us with this week’s photo.
We queued towards the Egypt Air terminal, the air hostess’ voice hovering in the atmosphere, signifying the commencement of boarding for flight E365. Within seconds it seemed, suitcases crashed to the ground, and everyone headed towards one direction- the exit.
The counter clerks were a sight; trying to climb their way over counter tables but their skirts weren’t making it easy an easy task, which thinking back now, made for a funny sight.
We all ran, pushing, scratching and wanting to beat whoever or whatever it was making us run. It wasn’t until we were safely at a distance and out of breath that the question- “what happened?” arose, everyone looking at one another in a quizzical manner.
Long hours of interview and investigation by airport officials eventually revealed the source of the drama. A young lad, whose phone ringtone happened to be “gunshots”, rang incredible loudly and we were the chain reaction that followed. And the man who began it all, he was also amongst the panicked not knowing he was the source.
word count: 174 words. This is in response to flash fiction for aspiring writers photo Prompt challenge. Unfortunately, due to a horrible internet connection and busy exam schedules, I wasn’t able to make it in time to link my story for last week’s challenge. The internet just got back today, so since I had already written, I thought I’d share the story regardless. 🙂 Thank you very much @Dawn Miller for this week’s photo.