Hello, lovely people 😀
I have had to dig out another notebook, as I’ve now used every scrap of my last one!
As I look back over all the posts I’ve managed to put up here over the last month *points to menu section* I realise I’ve earned my tiredness somewhat 😉
Luckily, I have many spiral-bound quarter-to-half-full A4 pads kicking about my bedroom, so production will not be halted…unless I get caught up in reading all the other scrawled things I forgot I’d written, that is (distinct possibility – must…resist…)
Today’s generated words were pretty straight forward, in that I knew what they all meant (always a bonus) and there were quite a few connections going on already.
As I got to work, I ‘saw’ a guy in my head; being interviewed by a BBC journalist about his former school mate, whom had fallen from grace in the sports world:
Bad Glory Gymnastic Passion Muscle Dope Bronze Area Gutsy
“…He didn’t look bad to begin with!
That silly rush for glory
In his gymnastic passion
Had him building up the muscle,
Like some crazy person.
I don’t know why he used it;
He was never one to touch our dope
Behind the old school wall…
And all that fake tan! I ask you:
Who wants to look like some bronze statue?
I don’t even like girls using it.
(But then, I’ve never been one
To see the point in that area of make-up)
I agree he was gutsy for doing that
Expose-all feature in the tabloids –
I mean, maybe he’ll help someone else?
But what a waste, man.
What a bloody waste.”
Does the above count as a poem? I’m not sure. The syllables don’t seem to follow any pattern, but it tells part of a story.
Would you have written about something completely different? Which nuance of ‘dope’ sprang into your mind?
To the comments, dear readers…
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