A Comfy Kind Of Restless

Hi!

*Again waves at the screen like the loony she is*

How are you all doing?

[For anyone just finding my ramblings: I’m Montaffera, and I challenge myself to write a poem every day using 9 words from a random word generator.  I look up any I don’t immediately know, set the timer for 15 minutes – then write. 

I always use the words in the order the generator gave me, and I am only allowed to tweak punctuation and line distribution in my poem outside of the writing time, before I post it up here.  I must stop writing when the timer sounds, and so far I’ve always managed to use all the words…]

From Textfixer

I was back pounding the pavements today, after hubby being here to ferry us about for the last three days.  My back is not best pleased, but it was nice to get some thinking time in 🙂

The scene in the poem came to me as I thought about why one would need to send a ‘dispatch’.  I didn’t have to look any of the words up, so I comfortably fitted my writing into the 15 minutes. 

Just as well really, because I had been faffing about so much looking at my stats (400 HITS IN TOTAL BY THIS MORNING – YAAAAY!) quickly tidying up, and putting on a washing load etc, that I only had 15 minutes left before I’d have been too late to get down to collect our youngest!

Dispatch  Muscular  Avoid  Generation  Psycho  Fork  Magnetic  Industry  Fortress

He knew it would be his last dispatch;

As the battery died,

He focused his efforts on

Planning how to get past the muscular guard.

He knew he must avoid

The generation of any sound

(So could not turn psycho

And stab his foe with the convenient fork)

Slowly, slowly, he cranked the power

On his magnetic device

Attempting to pull back the bolt

From inside his cell, praying ‘muscles’ would not

Discover this bated industry.

Inch by inch, the metal moved

(Sweat pouring from his brow)

Each sinew straining to escape the fortress.

Purple poetry

So are we going with James Bond or Dr Who as ‘he’, do we think? (Or an Austin Powers type?!)  The cell is dark, I can’t really make out the main character 😉

How is the guard going to be dealt with?  I’m thinking the sleeper hold might come into play, but there could be other options. 

Who received the ‘dispatch’?  Are reinforcements on their way?

I wonder, too, who the baddy is who owns the ‘fortress’?

What do you see when you read the poem?

[Photo credit: Fortress from Pixabay]

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Please do not use any of my content (posts, pictures, poetry etc) without my permission, but feel free to link back to my blog if something catches your eye. Thank you!