642 Things to Write About

"Write a bathroom wall limerick." There once was a girl from Marquette Who had a hard time getting wet So she'd say to the boys, "No, I've got my own toys, "With them and some lube, I'm all set!" -- Author's Note: This was really hard for me! Of course my talented-at-rhyming-and-ribaldry husband came up with about five right away, but I really wanted to write my own, otherwise it's cheating, right? So, mine isn't as clever as some, but it's here anyway, and it's certainly crude enough. And, here's two of his just for fun. There was a dude from Little Lake Who would give his dick a randy shake He would whack it around At every joint in town So give him a hand, for God's sake. There once was a man from Sidnaw Who liked every girl that he saw He humped Grace and Mary Who were from Trenary And now they are both baby mas.

"A bad smell and where it came from." She quickly lit some incense to cover up that horrible smell. Rotten cabbage or eggs, maybe; it was hard to describe, but familiar and distinct to anyone with a propane tank. It meant the tank was down to its last gasps, the furnace pushing heroically to keep the heat in the small house against the winter chill just outside. It meant turning down the thermostat to 55, the bare minimum to keep things from freezing. It meant no using the gas stove to cook tonight; she'd have to rely on the microwave for the kids' dinner. It meant praying for spring weather to arrive tomorrow, because there was no money to get the tank refilled. It was almost time for them to get off the bus. She fanned the smoke from the sweet-scented incense around the room, trying to keep the bad smell away. By now, the kids would know that smell the same as she did, and she didn't want them to worry about whether they'd get to sleep in their own bed...

"Come up with every possible way to describe something as 'red,' without using the word itself." -- The color of guts, not golden glory The shade of a sailor's warning sky An icy cold cola can Arizona's shimmering heat The flush of blood to your face Bitten lips The color that hazes your vision in rage Summer tomatoes Wild apples on the roadside Ripe tart cherries - Powdered cinnabar Drugstore lipsticks Crimson Scarlet Vermilion Don't eat that color of berries Don't touch the stove when it's that color Dying embers of a fire Sunset glow in the north Wildfire on the horizon - Stop! The safety's off Blood dripping from fresh meat The color of ground paprika A good pasta sauce Strawberry stain on your fingers The balance for blue and yellow The middle of black and white Skin laid back Muscle exposed - Warning sign Stains of iron in the water Mark of iron in the soil Clay along the riverbank Color of a th...

"Write a poem about a tomato." Tomatoes out of season taste like ghosts of summer roused Echoes of red-skinned bursts in your mouth Pale sunshine straining through the clouds. They tell us spring is coming, when Demeter rises from her grief Fruits and flowers begin their climb to the sun Green creeps up the poles and fences to outleaf. Or do they, vine-things, fall into reborn Dionysius' realm? New seeds, new ground each year transforming Tiny sparks to rich red overwhelm? Author's Note: I guess the nature of this poem owes thanks to my current reading, Edith Hamilton's " Mythology ".

As a writing exercise for 2017, I'm using this book: 642 Things to Write About from the San Francisco Writer's Grotto. Each time I post, it's a response to one or more of the writing prompts from the book. It was a belated Valentine's Day gift from my wonderful husband to get me writing on a regular basis, with the ultimate goal of publishing one or more novels and short stories I've had rattling around for years. Regular writing prompts also serve as a way for me to battle my depression and anxiety, which I'm finally learning more about at the age of nearly 35. Writing is a great mind-altering substance :) All this isn't to say I expect anyone to read all these posts, except maybe the aforementioned amazing husband, but just to offer a note of explanation for those who stumble across the blog. --Kim Eggleston, 2/25/17