rough days

Rough days. They happen. Today was one of them. It feels like the world is smaller. Its gravity is stronger. The consequences more severe. The pain more real. A quick cry in the car. Go lie on the floor of my friend’s new apartment and wait for more friends to arrive. I ramble cryptically. Offer one of the people around me half of my life. We negotiate down to one third. My partner takes me home. I step away, be alone. When I resurface, he’s at the bottom of the stairs awkwardly holding a very full, hot cup of tea.

tea

tea finds its way into our writing our poetry our drabbles liquid capable of conquering empires raising dynasties giving birth to war that inspired the child to invent a language and pursue love that stains an old pot by the kettle by the sink waiting to be filled and poured out into perfect cups poured out over perfect conversations like the poet leaning over the back of a lounge yearning to find the words for the magic that no one has yet to put together just the right way that stirs the heart like milk in a cup of tea

journey

That evening she sat staring at the incredible, abundant, extravagant beauty her friends, family, neighbors, and acquaintances had delivered to her. Still unsure of why and wondering what to do with so many flowers and plants, she wept. Tears that overwhelmed her. What love was this? What motivation did so many people have to visit and wish her well. What journey they spoke of… and slowly her heart swelled. It takes time for the spirit of a human to understand. To comprehend. The journey she was taking was one she would never be able to share with them. The living.

mysterious

All day friends stopped by her home. The first arrived at 7:26 am on her way to work. With flowers. Each of them who could come themselves dropped off a small bouquet or potted plant. Three different flower delivery vans came by that day, each dropping off multiple gifts. The day went on and on. Visitor after visitor coming by, saying hello, sharing love and well wishes, then vanishing, leaving flowers in their wake. It wasn’t her birthday, it wasn’t a holiday, she wasn’t grieving or celebrating anything that she knew of. But someone had planned this. A mysterious day.

drabblers' condition

drabblers' condition is a minor ailment derived from the self-imposed rule that one must compose and post one new drabble every day in the month of may. the condition lies dormant until the drabbler becomes either lazy, overwhelmed, or uninspired; thereby missing one day of continuous composition and posting. drabblers afflicted with this condition have two courses of action in which to alleviate the condition. one, one can simply carry on, pretending no days have gone missed. or two, compose an extra drabble the next day and pretend no days of gone missed. this condition only occurs in may.

form

when composing a drabble one might consider form. however, the limitation of composing something consisting of exactly 100 words is in itself a form. one may argue that the limitation directs or informs the form of the composition.

however, again, a drabbler may chose any form or layout that they chose.

one may present their 100 words in a standard paragraph form.

and yet another
may present a series

of couplets. and so
it is agreed upon

that the form of a drabble is fluid and defined outside of the word count parameters. one may and should use any form.

contents

contents may vary from drabble to drabble.

some drabbles may be sweet ruminations on the budding spring time while others may be bemoaning mini tirades on one's swollen sinuses and watery eyes.

some drabbles may be quirky and allusive while others are direct and poignant.

some drabbles may contain references to revolutions fought, fighting, or to be fought while others are mere meandering flights of fancy like fantastic tiny journeys on the backs of bumble bees.

still yet other drabbles may reveal themselves to be nothing more than instructions on fixing the perfect snack.

but they all stir the heart.

procedure

1. open word counting tool. (bookmark or download one if you haven't already.)
2. poor a hot cup of trader joe's mint watermelon tea. (product placement. send back up tins, this stuff is delicious!)
3. begin composition.
3a. think of a word or a place.
3b. begin to ruminate on said word or place.
(different drabblers may have different techniques when it comes to inspiration)
3c. type out your thoughts in your word counter.
4. begin to panic that you either a) have written too many words or b) have a perfect little poem at 85 words.
5. edit profusely.

definition

In order to complete the task, the task must first be defined.

In May, the task is to compose drabbles. To engage in drabbling. Defined here:

Noun.

A drabble is a piece of writing consisting of exactly 100 words.

Fiction. Nonfiction. Poetry. Prose.

Example: I will write one drabble every day in the month of May.

Verb.

To drabble is to compose a piece of writing consisting of exactly 100 words.

Fiction. Nonfiction. Poetry. Prose.

Example: I am drabbling every day in the month of May.

The task is to create one drabble every day of the Month of May.

Drabble #18: Shortbread

short on butter again, the scone sat unfinished on her plate.  a wounded monk in the crossfire of desire and reality. 

she sat pouting, staring at the monstrosity of sweet bread like one might a snoring bedfellow.  not enough butter.  cheap.

overall, she decided, she preferred biscuits over bread.  savory or sweet, didn't much matter the kind of bread, there was hardly ever enough butter.  but biscuits came with built in buttery goodness.

shortbread, she thought, then. 

that is what she would have next time.  yes.  forget the scones and lack of butter.  she'd have a biscuit with her tea.

Drabble #17: Mercy

mercy grows in the dessert

between the grains of sand
too small to see with even a microscope

mercy grows in between the cracks

and splinters of old shingles
still clinging to the sheds after hurricanes

mercy grows in the heart of the man

who spent his weekend rescuing tiny kittens
after he saw one fall out of a tree

mercy grows in the front seat

of the family car where dad is sat
counting to ten for the tenth time today

mercy grows in.  and out.  and around

in unexpected patterns, just like ivy.
or mulch after a tornado.

Drabble #16: Juxtaposition

http://www.artisticmoods.com/art-print-by-lieke-van-der-vorst/

please don't be so sad. we are all the same.
we fix our selves against imagination and the selves of others.

squatting between look and touch, the smooth of the cool light blue on white with a matching saucer and the warmth of the tattered soft black fur around our paws.  the sweet insides of this one and the burning bitterness inside the other. 

we juxtapose our selves and each other.  the exterior calm against the coal fires burning inside.

we want to be the white porcelain tea cup, but we're really a big black bear.  and we are lost. 

Drabble #15: Wrinkled

betty sat, legs dangling over the edge of the dock, as she consumed her second ice cream. she watched her friends diving into the sea. they would appear out of the sky like angels before splashing into the ugly water. the cast on her arm kept her from joining in. so she ate vanilla ice cream instead.  afforded by asking all the boys she knew if they could spare her a penny or two.  those who wrinkled their nose at her were rewarded with a shinny shoed kick to the shin.  how do you think she broke her arm, anyway?

Drabble #14: Stretch

stretch
st re t ch
s t re t c h
s t r e t c h
s  t  r  e  t  c  h

br eath
br e a th
breath
br e a th
br eath

s  t  r  e  t  c  h
s t r e t c h
s t re t c h
st re t c h
stretch

stretch arms
legs stretch
muscles and mind

bre ath
br e a th
b r e e e e a a a th
in
breath out

stretch
st re t ch
s t re t ch

Drabble #13: Bruises

the market stretches out for miles. actual miles.  you read it in the brochure. all manner of produce and local fare.  and girls in high heels and summer dresses with little belts synched around their little waists smelling figs and checking for bruises on the skins of white peaches.  their baskets filled with fresh roses and flour from the mill to take home to make bread for their husbands who never get to see them just like this, like you see them, out in the sun.  smelling fruit, smiling at you, and winking at each other like they know something.

Drabble #12: Leaping

from the back of the plane it was all i could do to keep my breath from escaping, from leaping out of my chest through my lips and away from me forever the way she had just... just now.  from the back of the open cargo loft she rolled out, rolled away for the last time. 

i had to hold on.  she couldn't.  she should have been strapped in around all four limbs, but the brackets gave way and she's... gone.  we're 30,000 up making tracks across the indian ocean and my car just rolled out of the f*ck*ng plane.

Drabble #11: Steel-toed

we don't talk about fashion because we're victims of it, we talk about fashion because it gives us power. we wear steel cages around our hearts to protect us against love we cannot control.  we wear steel-toed shoes every day.  we wear stripes to distract them and polka-dots to attract them.  we wear spats and straps and roses behind our ears as lures for the weaker ones, then we tear them away. the ones we can only wash with like colors and cool water.  we don't talk about it because we have to, we talk about it because we can.

Drabble #10: Cheddar

"stop saying 'orange'" he said as they walked home after lunch
"stop complaining" she said back
"if you'd stop complaining about the color of it, i'd stop complaining about you complaining" he argued
"if you'd stop making cheddar the wrong color, i'd stop complaining altogether" she argued back

they walked the rest of the way home side by side in silence.  every now and again he could feel her red trench coat brush against his bare arm.  he wished he hadn't asked her to stop complaining.  now she wouldn't say anything at all.  not to him.  not for a while.

Drabble #9: Influenza

transmitted through the air

transmitted by direct contaminated

Airborne absolutely clear

viruses by sunlight,

 

disinfectants and detergents

inactivated by soap, washing r

isk of infection can occasionally

lead pneumonia, direct viral

 

or secondary, even for persons

who are usually very healthy 

In particular it is a warning

sign to be getting better

 

and relapses with Another warning

to have trouble breathing

No benefit Influenza

spreads around the world

 

about three to five

about millions in three occurred,

existing human animal species,

birds or pigs. concern of people.

 

strain and The World officially

the outbreak to be spread actually having a rate.

Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Influenza

Drabble #8: Treble

the stairs creak wildly under foot
of even the tiniest beast

and the sounds seem louder
in the dark of night than it does under sunlight

because our ears grow stronger
when our eyes can't manage in the depth

of lack of light on nights when the moon
doesn't reflect even a shiver of light

but the treble still rumbles
through the dumbs nestled inside our heads

so we can hear the heart beat in our own chest
as the little beasts climb the creaking stairs

and the rhythm of their chaotic scuffles
down the corridor towards our locked door.