Goldfields Writers Workshop - Poetry Workshop

A few weeks ago, the Goldfields Writers Group had a Workshop.
The afternoon was divided in to two parts: Poetry and Prose.

The activity given for the Poetry Workshop on the day was:
Head outside, find somewhere to sit. In 10 minutes, write whatever comes to you about the scene laid in front of you. Write anything and everything that comes to mind about the scene. Editing comes later.
The following was what I came up with...

---

The glare of the Sun was limited by thicker clouds.
Ahead, the children.
Voices loud, clear, and yet unintelligible.
Drones mixed with vehicular activity.
They know nothing of the citizens of the year sitting beside me.
One of them probably had been there to see their first breaths.
They sat silently on the footpath, trodden over a few hundred times without knowing it.
The only protection afforded to them was the over hanging wire, not yet a roof produced by the climbing vines
Vines that would otherwise be called Strangling

---

---

And, as you can see, I am not really a poet :P
I can assure that the day was actually quite nice. The sun had been out for most of the day and it was pretty good out there.
It just was the first thing that came to me.

The homework for the ... month... was to expand on that properly and edit it to a more suitable poetry style.

As such, here is the final result.

---

Sun streaks faded

Blinding glare imposed by the gathering clouds

Ahead, the children play

Voices clear.
Unintelligible.
Loud.
High Pitched.
Whiny.
Drones

mixed with vehicular activity.

They know nothing of the Citizens of the Year sitting beside me.
One of them probably had seen their first breaths.
Another may have helped them when they were unwell.
Others still have had profound effects on their life without them knowing.

The Citizens sit stoical
silent
in the stone path.
Stepped on,
walked over a few hundred times without knowing it.
Wire overhangs the Citizens.
No protection from the elements until the Vines strangle the string.
By then, time may have strangled them too.

---

---

Not a bad expansion on the previous work, I think.
Poetry was not, and is not, really my thing. I am too literal a person to be able to fabricate and weave a scene like a poet.
That said, I don't mind how this has turned out. Better than what I remember it to be.

---

In other writing news...
Last night I had decided to sit down and start writing out a basic outline for the NaNoWriMo effort.
1800 words later, and I have a basic grip on what is going to happen in the storyline.
I don't have a finish yet. Characters don't have names (well... mostly). The McGuffin is still not wholly decided upon, and the big-bad and the final resolution is not likely to be determined until I actually write it.

If anyone wants to be a Plot Hole Searcher, Editor, Science & Tech Advisor or just wants to have a squizz at what the current storyline looks like, give me a buzz.

Magnetic Man Dudes - 009 - Holy Grail

They had found the Holy Grail, and now were returning it to their Base Camp.

Magnetic Man Dudes - 008 - Red Goes Nuts

...and when Red went nuts, you think that Blue and Yellow would have listened. However, it was not to be, to their detriment...

Goldfield Writers Group - Love or Theft in the Goldfields

Sneak Double Post!

From the previous meeting, the homework for the month was "Write about Love or Theft in the Goldfields (500 words maximum).

As such...

---

I first noticed them maybe a month or two ago. I had made a brief stop in the tea room. The glass on the corridor looks out to a blocked-in courtyard. Two pigeons sitting on the dirt, in the sunlight that projected between the shadows of the building and the shade of the tree. I thought that this was quite strange, at first. There were perfectly good branches that sat in the sun and this area is a common, and perfect, place for cats to stalk. These two birds, however, were unphased by such trivialities. They were perfectly confident... A good thing to be when you are in your own home. It amused me for a few moments, while my cup cooled enough to drink. I moved on.

Over the course of a few weeks, I noticed that they rarely sat in the tree. Almost always on the ground. I also noticed that it was always only two of them. Never a third, never just one, always the two. I wondered if they were mates. I couldn't remember exactly, but I had always thought that pigeons had very defining male/female features. My memory says that the male pigeons are usually more colourful and slightly larger. Looking at these two, I can't tell one apart from the other.
They occasionally wandered around, scratching and picking at the grass and grit. Every now and then, one would look over at the other and they would pause, sharing the time together in some form of silent communication.

One overcast day, the groundskeepers stripped the overgrown grasses and weeds from the area. They tore through the ground, stealing up the rocks and flora. I spotted the pigeons sitting in a gutter that overhangs the area. They sat there patiently as the destruction of their grounds continued beneath them, occasionally giving a sideways glance down monitor the proceedings.

I did not see them for another week.

I had thought them gone permanently until I took the time to look properly. They were back at it again, picking in the ground. They stopped every now and then, looking at each other in quiet observation. They then look up at me. I see their eyes, knowing nothing of what passes between the two. They move on again, walking over the ground. Sitting together.

Goldfield Writers Group - Landscape

As part of the previous month's homework... The topic was "Write about a piece of the Goldfields Landscape (400 words max)".

As such, allow me to present to you "Rape Alley"

---

I almost always walk down a particular alleyway when going to and from work and town. Most of the times, I think of a conversation I had with a friend when we walked through it at the end of a night out. My memory of the conversation has slightly altered what was said, but the gist is always the same.

“Let's go this way. Shortcut.” I had said.
“What, down Rape Alley?” she asked incredulously.
“...'Rape Alley'?” I confusedly replied.

“Yeah! Don't you think it looks dodgy?”
“Well... yeah, but... 'Rape Alley'?”
She laughs as we start walking through the alleyway. It is wide, well lit and there is minimal graffiti.

“Doesn't it look like anything could happen here at night?”
I paused before responding.
“Well.. kinda, but so does any other alley way.”
“Yeah, so 'Rape Alley'!” She shouts and laughs.
“But this might be better than any other alley way in Kal. I mean, this alley is actually well lit from Hungry Jacks,” I point out. “There's lots of people getting Drive Thru, so there are witnesses.”
“Yeah, or they could randomly jump out and attack you!”
I laughed. Someone in the Drive Thru line looked at us. We were rather loud. Alcohol may have been involved.

“Somehow, I don't think that would happen.”

“What about this alley,” she pointed up another alley that joined in a T-Section. “People could come from there.”
“Huh? That's as well lit as here!”
“But it's weird down here at night!”
“I think you're just being paranoid,” I said. “Maybe it's because I am a man, but I don't really feel unsafe here.”
I'll never forget that, at that exact moment, our walk transitioned from the exceptionally well lit area to the dark-as-night portion. To this day, whenever I think of that phrase whilst walking down this particular alleyway, even in daylight, I turn my head just as I did that night... just to be sure.
“Do you think that anyone has actually been raped down here?” An honest question that I had not thought of until that moment.
“Well, this IS Kalgoorlie,” She replied. “Probably not, though.”
“Yeah. Drug deals, though...” I smirked. That got a laugh as we crunched over gravel, grit and glass through the gloom.