Proof (Weekly Writing Challenge - Week 2) by Metaphorest
Each day she dies a little death
In some new city
Motel, hotel, suitcase-living
Every chain the same
Executive desk & bedside lamp
Green-light keycard swipe
And corridor revellers - 3am
The novelty of tiny toiletries
Has long worn thin
The drone of every bathroom fan
A traveller’s tragic overture
Room service over-priced
On a bed for two
Badly dubbed TV shows
The familiar unravelled
Like waking up to parents
With new faces
Midnight, each night
She takes a photo
Of her own reflection
Some scant proof of her existence
But there’s nothing irrefutable
About a digital image
Nothing solid she could stand behind
And state as evidence
A copy of a copy of herself
Just a ghost
Bleeding city lights
tori (Text & Video Curator) Featured Comment: "I really love how this is written, Sarah, and it fits Marie Bee’s picture so well - you really captured the feel of the photo. The rhythm of the poem is unusual and fun to read out loud - staccoto-esque in places with the mixing of vowel sounds ("suitcase living / skyscraper nomad" is delightfully tongue-twisting) but the well-placed rhymes and longer lines really keep the reader on their toes. The way that it’s written reflects the mix of frustration, emptiness and repetition within the life of the girl - really well done."
Contribute to the “WEEKLY WRITING CHALLENGE” collab HERE!
WEEK 2’s CHALLENGE: Find a photograph on the site that speaks to you & write a poem about it.
NOTE: Please be sure to resource the photo you used as inspiration.
ADDITIONAL NOTE: The deadline for Week 2’s challenge is Monday, October 13th.
Worlds Within Worlds: NUMBERED SHOT LIST
PHOTOGRAPHERS, CINEMATOGRAPHERS, & VISUAL ARTISTS: Using Macro Photography/Cinematography and Graphic Effects, start creating Visuals for these selected lines of Metaphorest’s "Worlds Within Worlds" poem.
WORLDS WITHIN WORLDS: Numbered Shot List
Every cranny, nook and nub with wondering eyes abuzz with being
Where once was but a molehole, gapes a portal, tunnels teasing
Each tree I see is home to imps or nymphs, hobbits or hermits
Why there are homes for gnomes and forts for fairies - yes indeed!
Cubby holes and hiding huts in weeping willow dens
I tiptoe past the tower where the princess sure is hidden
While the firth it froths and fizzes, tendrils stretching to the shore
In its depths swim secret selkies, kelpies, mermen, maids and more
Instead the inky black unveils a sea of twinkling lights
That muses mingle with the mosses, grasses, ferns and bark
NOTES: Feel free to refer to the poem for other allusions. Possible visuals could include tight close-ups of trees, grass, leaves, etc.
CALLING ALL WRITERS!
We’re gonna make a Montage-driven Short Film based on the idea that trash is just a label, because when you throw trash away it doesn’t go away - it’s just somewhere else.
WATCH THE REQUEST HERE
Here’s how you can contribute:
WRITERS: Write a poetic piece of text about how when trash is thrown away it doesn’t disappear, it just goes some place else.
Contribute to the “TRASH IS STILL SOMEWHERE” collab HERE!
Text by HeavyPetal
A kiss in a crowd.
We whispered it loud.
Fingers linked lightly -
We’re shy, but we’re proud.