The worst thing about breaking my old Palm Pilot was losing a poem, that I had written the prior night. It's meter was really great. It was a beautiful iambic tetrameter. It flowed so easily, it wrote itself. I hate that I lost it.
It was about cats, who've never seen a mouse. What do they chase, when they twitch through the twilight? What do their apparitions look like? Do they have tails? What kind of phantasmal hounds hunt them in nightmares? And do we do the same? Are our nocturnal visions of our own creation, or are they instinctual warnings of something we havent ran into yet? If so, what will our mice end up looking like?
Make some of those words darker, some more poetic, then make them dance beautifully around a flowing meter, and that's what I lost. That sucks.
What have you lost lately?
It was about cats, who've never seen a mouse. What do they chase, when they twitch through the twilight? What do their apparitions look like? Do they have tails? What kind of phantasmal hounds hunt them in nightmares? And do we do the same? Are our nocturnal visions of our own creation, or are they instinctual warnings of something we havent ran into yet? If so, what will our mice end up looking like?
Make some of those words darker, some more poetic, then make them dance beautifully around a flowing meter, and that's what I lost. That sucks.
What have you lost lately?
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Kidding.
I'm sorry about losing the poem. I know the most valuable thing I have on my computer is my writing. I would die if I lost it all.