NEKNEERAJ

Photo Challenge #172

she_told_me_about_her_imaginary_friend_by_mrs_white-d9ksgd9
– Mrs. White

Use above image as inspiration for a poem or short story.

Alternatively,

If you are an artist or photographer, use this as an opportunity to showcase your own work.

You have 1 week to complete this challenge.

Please credit the artist!

When you’re done, TAG the post Photo Challenge and MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie, and add your link to the Link Button. Also don’t forget to link to this post or copy your post’s URL into the comments. We can read your post sooner that way.

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  11. […] https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2017/07/04/photo-challenge-172/  Prompt by NEKNEERAJ:  Use above image as inspiration for a poem or short story.  Alternatively, If you are an artist or photographer, use this as an opportunity to showcase your own work.  You have 1 week to complete this challenge.  Please credit the artist!  When you’re done, TAG the post Photo Challenge and MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie, and add your link to the Link Button. Also don’t forget to link to this post or copy your post’s URL into the comments. We can read your post sooner that way. […]

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  13. KEATS’ CABAL
    [based on art by Mrs. White]

    We called our group “Keat’s Cabal,”
    the four of us poets high above the rest
    or so we believed as magically we
    (or so we thought) pulled words
    from the tall hat of our vanity
    and committed them to paper,
    refusing to edit, not ever.

    Keats’ devotees who couldn’t pen an ode,
    egotists who saw only blips of
    inspiration, unclear reflections
    through opaque mirrors.
    We were absolute fools,
    more idiot than savant.

    At the seashore, we each sat alone
    (or so we thought): poet and critic,
    poet and beast pecking at our conceit.
    Lifting our pens like wands and,
    abracadabra, we stood convinced
    muddled thoughts preceded words
    as we hummed through every line.

    Oh, we were an item back then,
    The Keats Boys, self-proclaimed
    poets sitting smugly on our laurels.
    All the while at the seashore
    we raised our pens to the squawking
    of critics: a fencing of nib and neb.

    #

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