Nov 6th – Petals and Parasols – Matt

November 6th – Petals and Parasols

Sometime in May
they sat,
all of them,
on a spread blanket

somewhere in Japan:
Nagoya, perhaps, or
Osaka, or somewhere
in between,

for Hanami.
A photograph,
pink, faded a little
at the corners

shows petals
and parasols, and
the spread blanket
on which they sat.

Pink trees, and lips
sake-shining, or moistened
with something else
less potent

as the wind stirred
the cherry trees.
‘Hanami,’ he said,
softly, tasting each

syllable as it formed
and floated, like the
petals, on the breeze.
‘Hanami,’ she whispered,

raising a glass
to her mouth, and smiling.
Beneath their parasols
the people came

and went, while they
sat, all of them,
sometime in May,
on a spread blanket.

Petals and Parasols – Dead Deer

Petals and Parasols

Oblivion. We came from it, we head toward it, this brief moment spent in Larkin’s blooming million-petalled flower. Who knew that could be more bleak than the oblivion we seek, and from whence we come.

So during this short interval, this grim slog of never-ending functions (they do end, mercifully) we must make the most of the sunny days, they say. Look out, look up, the sky is blue, the sun is shining! So? So what? We are still marching onward ever back to oblivion. Even as we ‘move forward’ or ‘look to the future’ that we are encouraged to by all around, we are blocking out that inevitability, just as a parasol blocks out the oh-so-inspiring sun – a useful guard against the good days.

“Stops Sun” is the translation, and of the bad days we use a device that “Stops Waters”, the “paraguas”; or in English the “umbrella”. Now where the fuck did a word like that come from? Seriously, what’s the point in that? In anything?

Well, both these infernal contraptions, equal in all but name, function and material, are forgotten in the restful bliss of oblivion. Or are they? Yes, Mr. Larkin; we will find out.

Today I wrote from 14:10 to 14:20

November Writing Prompts – Read more from the Dead Deer and follow it.


Petals and Parasols – The Writeycorn

Petals and Parasols

Dear diary,

It was a warm summer’s evening in 1883 and me and Max we were walking along the path petals falling all around us but it was shielded by my parasol and then suddenly a big blue box appeared in front of us. We were just about to kiss when someone came out of it and said, “What year is it?” I told him it was 1883 and a girl behind him said “So are we on Space Beach?” and he said “Space Beach will have to wait”, and she went, “So what year is it?”. He answered “1883. Come on Clara.” and she said “Coming Doctor.” And then the box vanished making this noise vurrrrm vurrrrm vurrrrm.

today I wrote from 14:10 to 19:20 inspired by the prompts here.