I got The Exercise Book out of the library yesterday - it's edited by Bill Manhire, amongst others. It's a grab bag of ideas to stimulate your writing, and the poem below is the result of one of these stimulations...this is a first run at it - there may be improved versions still to come.
One of the blankets I hung out to air
was dry when I first hung it out.
It’s now wet from the spitting rain,
so I’ve hung it in the glasshouse
to dry again.
The tomatoes in the glasshouse are a
very few red; the remainder green.
The blanket is child’s blue, green, red, a
child’s blanket kept to cover the dog’s
cage, where he sleeps at night, in the
kitchen, with the curtains closed, to
shut out the extra light.
We’ve been up in the night the
last three nights, letting the dog out
in the dark at least three times a
night – he’s had the backdoor trots,
(our back door rattles in the wind
as I write), Montezuma’s Revenge –
the runs, the summer complaint,
though for eating what I know not what.
Montezuma’s Revenge: why does a
Dutch a cappella rock-pop group
name itself after a South American
loosening of the guts?
But they did just such.
They’ve called it quits once –
not the loosening, though most would
call quits (including the dog) on that as
quickly as. Three years ago
they quit, but last December
were touring as if detachment never
happened, their Dutch phizogs
bouyant on a poster for
Strikes Back: an a capella
Google translates the revival:
“It buzzed for a while in the
corridors and it is true! After a
number of theatres with the
question of Montezuma was
again not what we could do the
heads together. Such a chance will
not let you lie...a fall or winter or
summer break depression is
now time for a spring cleaning.
That sounds like we have metonce the broom by the occupation.”
You can see Montezuma's Revenge's website here.