Tourmaline .’s Halloween Challenge
Today’s prompt is “decor.” For today’s images I scoured some old home decor magazines I found in the cupboard, looking for decor I found creepy. I cut them out and turned them into filters.
OctPoWriMo
Today’s theme is “Nourish the Soul.” I nourish my soul in so many ways: morning cuddles with kitty, reading, writing, learning, creating my images every day, music, fabric art, and sharing my work with you here at Experience Writing.
Speaking of nourishing the soul, what better way than a meal inspired by poetry? This week is week 7 of ModPo, and I’m starting my close-reading essay on the poem, “Having a Coke with You,” a love poem by Frank O’Hara. While doing a little research, I stumbled upon this PBS episode of Art Cooking which I found really fun.
An Artist Always Starving, Never Sated
After voraciously tasting a breakfast of New York poets
always walking, she’s still hungry
After second-breakfast consuming synchronicity
found in the cupboards of curiosity, she’s still hungry
After a bike ride, drinking in new definitions of efficiency, she still thirsts
After devouring a lunch bursting with color and form, she’s still hungry
After circling back for an afternoon snack combining new flavors
in enticing experimentation, she’s still hungry
After a light, fresh dinner, licking dressing from flat, round plates,
she contemplates confidence, yet she’s still hungry
and when the sweet final course comes, she admires it
longingly, even swipes some icing with her finger
but pushes it aside, not that she isn’t hungry
Writober Flash Fiction
Today’s inspirational image is “Mind Twist (Invocation)” from a Magic: the Gathering card from the Amonkhet Invocations Set. I like the desert sand setting and the idea of being attacked by one’s own shadow—what a betrayal.
“. . . and as I watched, though the cruel sun was overhead, his shadow stretched out behind him like tar pouring over the sand. Then like a thick, toxic smoke, it lifted behind him, and hovered for a moment. He didn’t turn. He stayed on his knees in the burning desert sand, holding his head. The shadow appeared to find form. I saw white eyes in a black almond-shaped face, and long, spindly fingers reached from over the man into his bald scalp which began to writhe and twist. It was horrifying to observe, but I couldn’t look away.” ~Maria L. Berg Writober7 Day 19
Experience Writing 