I thought I'd help with a visual prompt while I'm on vacation. This is the view from the water side outside my bedroom door for the long weekend and our road trip mascot duck. Spotties and rays swimming in the water at my feet.

Doorway moment in an amazing idea.

Aww i love The Fountian. It's in my top movies.

That's a good point. I forgot eftpos is a bit vernacular. I'll change it to transaction or similar to be more universal.

I want to try seaweed hand cream now. All we get here is vanilla and odd flowers, sometimes fruit.

Day Ten - Five Steps From Here Rather than taking five steps and thinking of the journy in a fashion of the buddist philosphers that ponder every step. I wrote about looking out at the journey ahead and what each path would mean. Five Steps I pause at the staff room door. Five steps to my right, the fridge. In its cold embrace my salad, my frenemy for a few months. It has helped me shed five inches, but has bored me every day. Five steps to my left, the treats. A black monolith vending machine that taunts me with sugary snacks. It was the reason I had those inches. I ponder and listen to the voices of the angel and demon that guide me.  Will I choose health and wellbeing, or stumble along the road of temptation. A moment later there is a flash and beep as ‘Payment Accepted’ blinks across the screen.

Day 7: Stranger Moment (Day eight for me) This one happened this morning on the way to work waiting for my bus. Sticky Situation Heavens bullets push us under the shelter. Four strangers huddle in a small box as an angry head wind assaults our feet leaving the sense of dry a memory. Before us we watch on in horror as a maelstrom rises from a blocked grate. Gum leaves and downpour feed its hunger as the reach of flooding slowly approaches. I wish I had a stick One woman speaks up above the roaring storm. She means to clear the drain, but I hear more. One warrior, one elemental sword of wood, beating back the aquatic monster  that seeks to dampen and devour us. As my musings reach their climax our thundering diesel chariot arrives,  splashing away the threat under wheel and offering us protection from the torrent. 

I was not expecting a second poem today, but procrastination proves productive. Sitting at work on a hot Monday fall day I found myself staring out the window wondering what I would be doing if I was not confined, what if I had freedom. Spying a bee fly by this poem came to be. I then set myself a challenge to sumerise it in a haiku (not a perfect haiku, it is missing a season reference). So for the price of one, here is two poems. Bee Refreshed A gentle patter falls upon my hand, delicate and restful in its softness. My gaze sets sight on a ball of fluff. Black and yellow, almost cartoon like,  sits the small bee seeking a respite. It’s body in rapid pulse rises and falls as exhaustion digs its roots in deep. With a gamers grace I thumb my straw to libate a droplet of juice on my dorsal. The sugary nectar, intoxicating in scent, draws the bee closer. Pulled by yearning a thin proboscis pierces the film to suck away at the moist core. It's eyes illuminate in a thankyou before minute wings vibrate and take off towards the yard of wild flowers. ‐-------------------- fluffy bee sits breathing heavy; a juice drop sparkles

Wildcard poem. Having trouble writing atm as my mind is stuck in the past soaking in memories of another. I started a word assosiation list and mind dump, pulled this from that process. Falling Words Do Not Land April burns bright with a wet autumn heat. I should write about the colours of dying leaves,  the crinkling of crisp fallen foliage under foot, dips into the refreshing lake as the sun gets low, yet my mind falls blank as I reach in for insight. My pen fails to move along the barren page as I stare at empty branches whose shade waivers.  The only colours I can see is the pale yellow of my notebook, and the dark tone of disappointment.

Late to the party as always. Bust at work with big upgrade project and things, and finished my valentines poem at 16 stanzas so now a clear page. Glad to get cracking. I have the last two weeks of the month off work so most of mine will be catch poems, lol.

This is one of those topics that sits in shades of grey. That comes attached with a 'but' caviate. So I say yes. But....Only to the writer. Every poem should be part of their essence, part of their observation, something that a piece of them found a new home in. How well that message is transcribe to come across to the reader is a different subject. That is the hazy side of poetry critic and annalysis. Everyones favorite saying still sums it up best, 'art is subjective'. What it 'says' will differ based on an individuals interpretation.

Mine all live in my head, and a Gogle drive folder called 'unfinsihed poems'. Sometimes a word or a form will spark new life for them, others I will be writing something new then fold the old one into the new in a new way. Many of these latter ones you have read on this forum. They are a resource, a building block to keep in the storeroom until you find the part it was missing or the hole it fills.

Coming in after seeing this post bumped. From a linguistic POV, classic vs contempory are not genres. They are date refrences. When speaking of poetry in our era, it covers the last 100 years. Past that it becomes classical. Going through school Ezra Pound for example was contempory, but now that time has moved forward he is classical. When speaking of others in the past, a persons contempory's are those that lived in the same era as them, for example Pound and Picasso were contempories of each other.

If my assumption is correct, herb will be taking march quiet in prep for glopowrimo in April. Which if help is needed many of us will volunteer.

So my good news/highlight becuase its been a while since I had one. Late last year I each my heaviest at 93 and got diagnsed with liver desiese and takacadia. (excuse the spelling). Well, swithcing my diet and working out more, I have lost 12kgs since early December and dropping.

Its going well-ish. I got slowed down by Christmas and New Years but I have next week off so will get it completed then (minus images). I printed it all out, didn't like the layout of some of it so redoing that before sending it out (keep an eye on DMs). I finally named what I thought was an un-namable poem so happy with that., I'm also got momentum again on my novel I started 15 years ago when I wrote a short story and decided to expand it. Imposter syndrom hits far too hard and slows down projects.

Cheers for that. I'll try DM you a PDF by the end of the weekend. It will only have placeholder images as I'm planning on making lino cut lithographs for it just after Christmas.

Yup. For a small town they seem to come fairly regularly.

Just a small hual today. But an interesting one.

I have ordered my proof copy to check over everything. Estimated delivery is 24 October.