Prompt: think of a powerful emotion. Think of a time when you experienced that emotion. Choose an object from that scene and put it in a box. Open the box and describe the contents - weight, colour, smell. Write a poem.
May 3rd, 1971
Historically, nothing momentous occurred.
The world kept turning.
We went to school
and, though it was Monday,
we had lamb, peas and new potatoes
cooked for us by Dad.
I suppose he didn't go to work that day,
seeing as how Mum had died.
So, there were just four places laid,
four plates with soft, pink, bleeding
slices of someone's child;
grey, leaden lumps of vegetable
matter, hard to swallow;
the artificial Spring green
of peas, trying for optimism.
The taint of normalcy
as we sat in the wrong places,
spread out to camouflage the gap,
and chewed on the cold, hard facts.
Such great use of words in such a sad subject. I admire your work greatly. X
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