Aditus

Narrows eyes...#761 is prickly enough.

There were some truly outstanding poems in that collection. Just saying.... Thank you, Gary! I loved your encouraging comments. A year ago, I didn't think I'd be able to write again, let alone poems.

Poems with an accent I like to write. However, why attempt to write in a language other than the one I learned first. One reason: Over 130 Million people speak German (https://www.deutschland.de/en/topic/culture/the-german-language-surprising-facts-and-figures) More than 3 Billion people speak/understand English. Duh. I’ve come a long way from There is a cat. The cat is fat. The cat lies on a mat. to my first novel long story written in English. Red Running Shoes. Which I could only accomplish with the tremendous help of my first editor @Lisa. I could write a whole essay about how much she helped me. Anyway, it doesn’t matter how it sounds when I read a story to myself. When one reads it in their head, they hear no accent. At least not my horrible accent. Of course, I had to write poetry next. I blame @AC Benus and his poetry prompts. However, poetry is an entirely different matter than prose. There are those pesky things like meter, rhyme, and rhythm among other phonetic hurdles. Fear not, I won’t launch into an explanation of poetic devices now. There are people who are much more competent than I am. The point is: It is important how a poem sounds. I had this conversation with Irri about oregano of all things. In English it’s oregano. In German it’s oregano. Depending on which language you hear in your head it can screw with meter. Better not try poetry? Once started, I couldn’t stop. To me, a poem is a condensed moment. A poignant thought. A clarified feeling and many more. And always a song. Since @Valkyrie introduced me to the NaPoWriMo challenge, I learned how the perspective of my world could change for a month, an interesting, and addictive experience. I know my poems are not perfect. I grudgingly stopped aiming for perfection some while ago. It has to feel right. Therefore, I stubbornly continue writing poems with an accent.

Even if you'd put it on a billboard those who need to read this wouldn't want to understand.

Thank you, Gary! @Timothy M. infected me with the alliteration virus.

Thank you!

Good!

My theory is we aren't ready for social media or the internet way of communicating Will we ever be though? Lots of hot air, hot bods and the occasional gem.

I agree.

Here is the result of the talking prompt.

Mirko petted the sleeping kitten rolled up on his lap. The troll had spread their vile poison again: Poor attempt at a mystery story...meager imagination...paltry...no ingenuity...predictable plot. It hadn’t taken long for the reactions to roll in. At the moment, the arguments were becoming increasingly heated. At first people had simply contradicted the troll, some even tried to uphold proper argumentation and pointed out especially well-written parts to refute the troll’s comments. The

A new collection of prompts and shorts.

My anthology story is done and #759 speaks to me. ( ignoring the flashing arrow hovering over the Kabal document. )

Hmm...if Sablo thinks he looks hot in a suit, he might.

Someone is suffering from imp withdrawals.

Also, I think he likes to hear himself talk. Yup!

Evil editor recognized one of my favorite words. Or was it all those chats?

So, what gave me away?

Back to you!

Ooops.

I always liked the name 'Robin Redbreast'. Your poem is as charming as the little bird. Ours is Erithacus rubecula. No turd ;). Cow birds We don't have those. Thank you for introducing them, I read interesting things.

No time, yet.

We call them plunder, lol.

All right. Now you have to endure one of my limericks. Peter Drink up and toast to Peter. For a month he wrestled with meter, For a day, he bought roses and whiskey too All from dipping his wick into Where it doesn’t belong, the cheater. Three weeks he sleeps on the floor His back is terribly sore His junk is infected He still is rejected And finally shown the door