Writing

I've determined that the last three months sucked the life out of me as far as my writing is concerned. I haven't been doing any writing for fun, and not even as much as I needed to do for actual requirements.

Being the head of a writing group, it makes me feel tremendously guilty at times. But... on the flip side, I had the wonderful opportunity to have Beth (a member from the group) step up to lead a mini-workshop on writing outside of the box. She gave us a great exercise and some time (along with the pressure) to write.

This is what I came up with as a rough rough rough draft.

Watching

Inside a brown house on
Bumpalump Road
catch a blonde glimpse
through darkened
window glass.
Hair painted
soft-boiled yellow
smelling of sunshine,
ponytail bobbed
moved by the invisible beat
of kitchen music.
Twitterpated chatter
clatters over
a lumbering
pile of dishes stacked
miles high
and wide
double-sinked.
Scrawny pale arms
- elbows deep -
springboard into suds.
Bubbles soap
the air with
ivory scent while
dishes submerge
with a bloop.
She discusses her day
over a rush of water.
Her smile cures cancer.