I’m taking a break from Twelfth century mysticism, for this tanka in response to Ronovan’s weekly prompt. It’s a question resolved so I’ve taken liberties with the prompt words.
I wrote this one with my eyes half-closed, and I realise it can be interpreted in several ways. I think the Oracle nudged it.
question in the sky
cloud-shaped, grey as charcoal
from a spent fire
marks on paper an image—
the future will be blue
lines that aim to be
And then I stop and sit and eat.
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Lovely.
This I like 💜
🙂
I love how you play with colors.
I’m a frustrated painter 🙂
Aren’t they all?
Ha! Probably. But I’m one who never got to paint. My mother was a painter and two of my sisters studied art, someone had to be serious.
So you chose poetry? Hopefully, nb is telling you: When will you get a decent job already?
No, they never did that. Maybe they should have done. My dad was a poet…
That’s why.
Don’t say that. The pockets may be empty, but the heart’s full. This was meant to happen. Now I sound too deterministic, which isn’t like me.
No writing in the stars. I wouldn’t have had them any different. I wouldn’t say no to a big fat cheque though from an anonymous benefactor.
That would be a bliss, to do sth you love and that you’re good at and make a living out of it.
Few people manage it, and they often do things I find inexplicable, like football or tennis…
There you go. You just need to start loving football and the rest will follow.
Okay. Bye bye millions. It was just a shot in the dark.
Never say never. Hollywood is a big fat lie anyway.
It’s a big fat money machine too.
Ambiguity is always appropriate in these situations. The play on blue, especially. (K)
I hope the Oracle was sending a sign. I felt her at my elbow while I was writing this one.