"Life was good until I opened that box." Let's play! Leave a few lines or a poem stanza to go with this beginning. I see your minds buzzing with possibilities, so share your thoughts and creativity in a comment. You don't have to be a writer or poet to play along; just unleash your imagination!
We used to do this kind of exercise in my writing group. The results always amazed me, and often produced seeds that grew into larger works/poems.
Sometimes the free writing evokes a childhood memory or gives birth to a great story idea. Here's what I mean. Calling out my blogging playmates brought to mind an old childhood clapping game song. (Did you ever sing those songs with corresponding clapping which followed the rhythm and rhymes? It was a popular schoolyard recess thing to do. You sang faster and faster, inevitably losing the clapping sequence and ending up in a pile of giggles.) Anywho, one of those songs bubbled up in my head writing this post. Natch, I then had to do some research.
Finding the actual "Friendship" song brought back fond memories, and now I'm going to use the song or parts of it in a poem or story somehow because it really spoke to me. Yeah, call me weird. Here's the little ditty:
Say, say oh playmate
Come out and play with me,
And bring your dollies three,
Climb up my apple tree,
Cry down my rain barrel,
Slide down my cellar door,
And we'll be jolly friends
Forever more, more, more, more, more.
Say, say, oh playmate
I cannot play with you
My dolly's got the flu
Boo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo
Ain't got no rainbow
Ain't got no cellar door
But we'll be jolly friends
Forever more, more, more, more, more.
So....getting back to the topic at hand, what happened when you opened YOUR box?
*And no need to thank me for the ear worm.* :)
Posts
15 comments:
...a wife and two boys popped out. Life got better still. Later the same box blew open in the back of the truck and over one hundred teenagers jumped out. Life got better still. It was then that it dawned on me that I am hooked on teenager energy and do not want to let go. Thanks to all of them.
Oren (Coach O)
Oren, not surprised at ALL that your box is full of others in need of your guidance and love. Don't even need to light up my Dr. Freud cigar or don the little black round glasses. :)
Life was good until I opened that box,
when out popped a gnarly fox
sporting dreadlocks.
He handed me a container a colorful rocks
and ran off to the nearest boat docks.
Life was good until I opened that box,
I placed those rocks into my socks
and had an awful time during my walk
trying to get down two city blocks.
Why in the world did I ever open that box?
Life was good until I opened that box. Then everything I once thought about myself changed forever. She'd lied. The woman I'd called mother for the past twenty-eight years was not the person she gaily portrayed at family get-togethers and yearly holidays. I dropped the box to my feet and wondered now what I would call her when I faced her. Liar didn't seem strong enough.
Life was good until I opened that box, and a flood of bitter-sweet memories filled the air with their waltz of forgotten dust. There, in firefly light,was the innocent girl-child of my youth; flittering and flowing with evening's tide and the home-calling voice of my mother. Look! There, the white-lightening of a first romantic kiss...how skin sizzling and toe tingling it was. Now dancing through the dusty light, comes the grief and sorrow of the bitter first taste of loss. My grandfather, my best friend, sent on his flight towards heaven and I left behind with only memories of buried joy to keep me warm. Life spins faster and faster on and the sadness of a family break up, the unbounded joy of true loves joining, the hopeful unknown looming quite before me, brings the softest of smiles to my lips. As I close the box, I settle into musings of how truly blessed life has been and with a growing eagerness I look forward to the chance to once again, lift the lid and glance into the half-forgotten remnants of a life well lived.
Life was good until I opened that box.
My master does not own a life, but he understands what it is to lose one. Something so very precious to them, this theatrical role that is rarely applauded. Taking what they want and never a regard for the consequences. But my lord created me. I knew what it would unleash upon them, the arrogant fools with loaded bows and relaxed minds. Out it all came, evil, sickness and labour.
...and I realized that was where I had left that chicken I bought four days ago.
Oh Debbie, that was brilliant! People want to know what I'm laughing at.
Life was good until I opened that box. So I closed it.
Michelle, who knew you could write in Suess-ese? :)
Not fair, Terri! Now I want to read the rest of the story. Good one!
Anita...then what? Thanks for playing. That was fun.
Ooo, Barb, so interesting! What were those bad things?
Debbie -- L.O.L.!
Me too, Barb, Deb made me spew coffee and bray like a donkey!
Well, Amy, that's some good micro flash. hehe
Great post, Angie:
Life was good until I opened that box.
Life was better after I opened that box.
x0x
hugs
Life was good until I opened that box. I hadn't ever planned to look inside again, felt safe with its contents hidden away, but it was taking up too much room and I needed space for a window. The mess inside oozed over everything, making me sick for a very long time. Then the light coming through the new window turned the ooze to ashes, and I gave the box to the puppy to chew his new teeth into existence.
Life was good until I opened that box.
No one had told me it was chicken pox!
So here I sit, itchy, red and spotted.
And everyone's calling me polka-dotted!
Unbreakable Kimmi, GOOD one!
Deb, close dat box, quick. :)
I like that one, Char.
Life was good until I (tried to) open that box.
It arrived on my porch all dented and knocked up!
Its stickers marked “Fragile” were peeling and frayed.
I lifted it carefully, gently, tenuously all the while pondering what was inside?
It sat and I sat as I pondered and wondered.
What was inside…
I thought and I thought.
There was only one answer…
To the junk draw I went in search of the scissors.
They had to be there or I’ be in a dither.
I lifted and searched.
I looked and I sought.
Alas as I sat in defeated at the table.
The box all the while just sitting before me.
It sat and I sat all day long.
Just wondering and imagining I began to grow weary.
I woke with a start, confused and bewildered.
The table before me was empty, oh my.
The box, that arrived all dented and knocked up
had vanished, disappeared and was no where to be found, gone kaput.
For the rest of my life I would often times wonder.
From where had it come and what was asunder.
Oh how good life had once been
If only I had found my scissors!
Blessings
Robin
A bit late to the party but I gave it a go.
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