Thursday, April 12, 2012

300 Words or Less: Home is a Guild Hall

300 Thursday again, where I'm posting bits of original work -- teasers from the novel I'm working on, some of my favorite poetry or prose I've done over the last few years, maybe some flash fiction or short essays, etc. -- all within 300 words or less. 

So shall we try a little poetry again? Here's a little something about home:

link to original here
Our Guild Hall

Written on,
I'm spitten on.
By me,
by you,
by them.
On I spit,
on you I spit,
turning you on
the spit of my fire.
Dawning,
you're fawning,
I'd sing to you with my lyre.

Liar.

We're all liars.
We burn on our own funeral pyres.
And eat each others'
funeral potatoes.
The day is grey --
perfect for a lot of cheese.
That's the way I smile:
cheesy.
For you, especially.
Because you are special.
A blue-light special,
that only I can buy.
If anyone else tries?
I will sever their heads:
an out-of-body experience.

You and I, we will love,
armor and all.
We'll build a guild hall.
Our cape will be beautiful and proud --
like you are beautiful and proud.
And I am beautiful and proud.
Cloud-living.
I am sitting,
waiting for you.
I know you.
I will wait for you through forever.

And if that wasn't your favorite image of home, here's an alternative:


And if that still doesn't hit home for you, feel free to share your version in the comments. What is home to you? A certain fish tank? Perhaps a certain pair of shoes/sandals? Maybe it's your dog, or your partner, or your child who makes you feel at home. What are your thoughts?


Moment of Magic today:

Giving advice to a friend this morning, I paused mid-sentence to realize I was talking to myself. Not in any literal sense, because she was obviously listening (though not very happily so), but rather in a, "Oh, I suppose this would be good advice for me to apply in my own life as well," sense. Huh. So I suppose the magic was in the friendship, the pause, the advice, the recognition.



 

6 comments:

  1. Strangely home for me is when I'm on holiday, away from the bricks and mortar I call home. Every year we travel for 6 hours down the country and as soon as we hit the motorway I instantly relax and have that feeling that I am going home.

    It helps that it is by the sea and that this place if full of beautiful memories from my childhood, to my first holiday alone with my then boyfriend and continuing though both of our two children. We always stay at the same place and I always cry when we leave. The question is would it feel this way if we lived here permenantly?!

    PS love the visualisation in you poem, I especially love the last line!

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  2. Oh Sleepy Joe, this is perfect. I know exactly what you mean, and I love it. Thanks for the good feedback on the poem too :) Happy holiday-ing to you!

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  3. Replies
    1. In Celsius or Fahrenheit? Just kidding, don't answer that because I don't know how to convert either one ;)Thanks for stopping by and your happy thoughts.

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  4. Replies
    1. Thanks for your thoughts. I visited your blog and oh, lovely. Fun to look around.

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