Post Holiday Haiku Challenge
The Wave-inatrix is admittedly weird. (see red flag post below; hear them snapping in the wind?) And so, by extension, are my friends. We sometimes do haiku challenges, usually by text message and we do it at odd times. On the drive to Thanksgiving, my close friend Peter texted me this:
Arid roasted bird
Dreams of halcyon glory
Gravy gives no joy.
The mini-Wave-inatrix texted back, in all her emo-teen glory:
Poor little turkey
Bound in humiliation
Roasted in anguish.
Yes, the Mini-W is a vegetarian, in case you wondered.
I find haiku a particularly great writing exercise. Sometimes in screenwriting we get so bound up in character arcs and plot points that sometimes we forget the sheer glory and elasticity of the language we use.
If anyone feels compelled, inspired or otherwise moved to submit a post-Thanksgiving haiku to the Rouge Wave, please do so in the comments section for all to enjoy. Impress other Wavers, use writing muscles you rarely use - haiku today.
A few submissions = cupcake promises with the possibility of follow-through.
Quite a few submissions = Wave-inatrix has a cool prize. So let's just see.
Shake off the turkey-induced, overeating coma and spring back to life, Wavers. Fire in the belly, people! Don't make the Wave-inatrix go all Irish on your asses.
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16 comments:
With writers on strike
And movies in the crapper
I say DisneyLand
And I have never liked Haikus.
Turkey, stuffing, wine
Chattering aunts and nephews
I need some motrin
Only five more weeks.
Snow and perhaps a blizzard.
Holidays, be gone.
Bobbing red dots
Pop, oozing tangy flesh.
Tickling the tongue.
Head intact with
Cherry eyes and open beak,
Julienne turnips, as if taken flight.
Sweet Wave-inatrix
Threatens to go all Irish
Make mine a double
missouri be one
north a place a show
a win in iowa
Too much turkey caused
parietal hernia
on thanksgiving day.
Post-meal all napping
Except the brother-in-law
Nothing in common
Four days off from work
So much promise on Thursday
Sunday: feeling blue
Blue siren flashes
I cannot breathe
I look forward to my midnight feast.
Set the pie aside
Click your Final Draft icon
Don't keep her waiting.
ESTABLISHING SHOT
INT. OVEN - DAY
A sweating fowl sobs.
The Script Whisperer
Cov'rage: one hundred twenty
The Rouge Wave: priceless
Wave-inatrix ill?
Perhaps have some turkey soup.
Hope you're better soon.
Nine to Five Wave-inatrix
Six to Five Dom-inatrix
Five to eight, my cupcake.
A gluttonous feast
Stomach’s capacity breached
Pie? I’ll have a piece
A ho, a mo,
Eleven toes and a comatose
What a show!
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