Equations | 100 Days of Flash Fiction – Day #2

100 Days of Flash Fiction, Short Stories & Flash Fictions

Prompt

He twisted fate between his fingers


Jacob Atkins sat amongst the wading sea of children at Gateway Primary. Assembly was a dull dreary ritual that the school conducted to deliver important messages to the children, and make them sing songs about being a good person and other such rubbish. Today, however, was slightly different. The messages had been gathered throughout the year and saved for this particular assembly on the last day of school (hopefully ever, he thought). Jacob never much cared for primary-school level education. But could he truly be blamed? The teachers were dull and uninspiring. The curriculum was basic knowledge, all leading up to one exam which he passed easily yesterday.

Teacher

Poetry, Small Poems

It’s been so long since I’ve written a poem, at first I was afraid to write. I stopped writing a while ago because I felt like I had nothing to say and if I did have something to say I wouldn’t say it right. Then, this summer, my grandma passed away (may she rest in peace). After a long battle against all her signs of weakness she left us and the silence that remained was overwhelming, both from losing her and my will to write. After a long battle against myself, my depression and my guilt, I finally decided to put my fingers on the keyboard again and write my first poem about her. I truly miss her, and I’m still not sure if the words I’ve used can capture the true essence of what a great woman she was. But I’m trying, and if I can even capture a tiny part of her through my poetry, then I think I’m doing as well as I possible can to preserve her memory.

Rest in peace Granny 

Things I’ve heard people say in London

free verse, Poetry, Small Poems

Wow, already more than two weeks in! For everyone doing NaNoWriMo, or trying to achieve any kind of goal this month — keep it up!! 🙂

It’s been a bit difficult to keep on top of things as a student, but being a student means you also move around a lot. I’m currently in London, and so this poem was inspired by things I’ve heard people say around me so far.

Drury Lane

Poetry

WRITING EXERCISE #83

Today, one of my toddler daughters had the end of a stick in her mouth. I said, “Stop eating that stick! We don’t eat sticks, silly!” and my 4-year old daughter said, “Yeah, Lulu. If you eat sticks, you will get old.”

So let’s riff off that. Write a poem built out of four (or however many) cinquains that tell the story of someone getting old. Make sure one of the things that made them old was something they ate. Something they saw. Something they heard. Something they felt. A fragrance. Have the first line be the person’s name. If you want each cinquain to be about a different person, cool. Oh, and if you forgot what a cinquain was, here’s the format:

line 1 – 2 syllables
line 2 – 4 syllables
line 3 – 6 syllables
line 4 – 8 syllables
line 5 – 2 syllables


Drury Lane

Name here,
Sign here, sigh there,
Wear and tear of the town,
causes tearing of hair, baby
cries —

–closed eyes.
Lullabies sung,
Tumbling now
that standing up has come,
Standing on your own two cold feet,
good bye —

–I smell,
the Muffin Man,
hungry as I run to
Drury Lane, a girl or
a boy or something else holds me,

my body,
isn’t what it
was, I can’t run,
but I can sleep now forever,
with
closed eyes.

 


This was written as part of National Novel Writing Month 2017, [Day 2, Writing Prompt #83]