Category Archives: Beach

territory uncharted

living landscape no

woman’s land marked as

island no

beach you can reach

.

haiku

ps. man, you see her from the air, from the ships you built, but you can’t penetrate her depth and you don’t want to either, innit!

not really, not more than dick-deep, so

you crash against her shore, plant your flags, smash and grab her ressources, draw your borders, but she is not, and never was, yours

against all advice

NaPoWriMo 2021 Button with white background
NaPoWriMo 2021 Button with black background

.

salt-swooped, enticed

from the dark deep lake of his eyes

washed up on your shore

left there

balanced on a blade of his hair

bent-winged

you take a second chance at his skin

which has the look of tin 

left out in a recent storm

yet glinting

dangerous as a virus starting 

fished from his mouth

.

an unfamiliar curl of dull light like

a line of syllable struck on an infinite yet vacant sky

sickles you in its soiled embrace

he circles in again

patient like a surgeon

from a distant planet

.

you gulp you rumble yet fail

to notice sap that blooms and spills

ecstatic from his ruinous touch

that acts like a compliment, but isn’t so

conspicuous

.

you wilt you mumble

as he picks his teeth

larger than easter island monuments

as you swoon

sucked clean as a puckered scar

flapping there, un-speeched

beached on remnant happiness

no-one else gets

.

this vice is your 

kryptonite

.

.

not a haiku

.

https://www.napowrimo.net/

NaPoWriMo day 24

 Hard-boiled detective novels are known for their use of vivid similes, often with an ironic or sarcastic tone. Novelist Raymond Chandler is particularly adept at these. Here are a few from his novels:

  • A few locks of dry, white hair clung to his scalp, like wild flowers fighting for life on a bare rock.
  • Dead men are heavier than broken hearts.
  • From 30 feet away she looked like a lot of class. From 10 feet away she looked like something made up to be seen from 30 feet away.
  • She smelled the way the Taj Mahal looks by moonlight.
  • He looked about as inconspicuous as a tarantula on a slice of angel food.

Today, I’d like to challenge you to channel your inner gumshoe, and write a poem in which you describe something with a hard-boiled simile. Feel free to use just one, or try to go for broke and stuff your poem with similes till it’s . . . as dense as bread baked by a plumber, as round as the eyes of a girl who wants you to think she’s never heard such language, and as easy to miss as a brass band in a cathedral.