The street was narrow, gravelly and surrounded by a willow grove. Peter had been walking for several days, with a backpack and a stick. hHe continued, slowly, at an almost dragging pace. Peter was searching for a relieving answer . And he had been going on for a month, alone, tired. His head weighed as much as his backpack.
He hoped to find on El Camino the peace he hasn't had since the day his son died in a car accident.
Since answers aren't always unique in math, I have two submissions today.
First:
The answer, isn’t that always the question?
Perhaps I’m becoming philosophical as I age, which is doubtful, given that I seem to be imbued with a lifetime subscription of hubris.
Isn’t the path more important than the answer?
I spent four decades explaining to students that, while their final result may be correct, the techniques they’ve used, or the reasoning they’ve employed, is flawed in some manner.
I used to say: It’s the journey as well as destination that’s important.
Second:
Is it right?
That’s why I studied Mathematics, you could prove everything.
In English I got C’s because of how my instructors felt.
In Mathematics I got A’s. Many instructors changed my grade, saying: That isn’t the way I would have done it.
My retort was always: Is it right?
At college I heard of Kurt Gödel’s Incompleteness Theorem: That in any reasonable mathematical system there will always be true statements that cannot be proved.
I had lucked out earlier.
The second one is an illustration of the lifetime hubris referred to in the first.
Here are 5 Tanka exploring the themes suggested by the prompts (Answer, Luna, Old, Eyes, Negotiation):
➰
Whispered answer floats
On moonlit breeze, ephemeral
Luna's secret shared
Ancient wisdom in her glow
Illuminates the unknown
➰
Old eyes, deep as wells
Reflect a lifetime of tales
Silent negotiation
Between past and present tense
In each weathered wrinkle's fold
➰
Luna's silver face
Negotiates with inky sky
For moments of light
Answering night's dark silence
With her old, knowing pallor
➰
Seeking answers, I
Gaze into your ageless eyes
Luna overhead
Witness to our whispered pleas
Time-worn talks of give and take
➰
Negotiation's dance
Luna waxes, wanes above
Old as time itself
Eyes search heavens for answer
In celestial diplomacy
〰️〰️
I copied ‘Words in Bloom’ idea to use several prompts in one post. Here’s the way my Tanka came together.
Luna is another name for the moon, right? I thought that was an interesting starting point. I sprinkled "Luna" throughout most of the poems - sometimes directly, sometimes just hinting at it with phrases like "moonlit breeze."
For "answer," I played around with that idea in different ways. Sometimes it's pretty straightforward, like "Whispered answer floats" in the first poem. Other times, it's more about searching for answers, like looking up at the sky hoping for some cosmic insight.
The "old" theme was fun to work with. I tried to evoke a sense of age and wisdom - you've got old eyes, ancient knowledge, that sort of thing. It ties in nicely with the moon, which has been around forever, hasn't it? Or … has it?
For "eyes," I mostly used it literally - talking about gazing or searching. But it's also about perception and understanding in a broader sense.
"Negotiation" was probably the trickiest to fit in naturally. I tried to think of it in different ways - the back-and-forth between past and present, or even imagining the moon negotiating with the night sky for its place.
The lovely thing about tanka is how you can layer these ideas. So in each poem, I tried to mix and match the themes. For instance, you might have the old moon negotiating with the sky, or ancient eyes searching for answers.
For me, it’s all about creating these little word-pictures that hopefully make you think about how these ideas connect. Does that make sense? What do you think about how it all came together?
I think that combines the prompts very nicely, and works well. I enjoyed the little 'behind the scenes' look at the writing process and how it all came together as well... 😎
The woman spat on the grave of her late husband. She turned a bruised face away, but then came a voice from the dark of a nearby crypt. The question blew across the dead grass like wind through a tomb. “Do you know how Heaven and Hell are the same?”
She froze, loathing that rasping voice. “He deserved it.”
When the voice spoke, it was far away and fading. “They are both… forever.”
Spliff had been angling for an advantage over Udo lately. Dangerous business.
Questioning him in front of the guys. Second guessing. That kind of thing.
The boss noticed.
“You know when a soccer team tries to press for an edge. Putting on pressure. Probing for weakness in the defense. The announcers call that ‘asking questions’.”
Spliff yawned. “So.”
Udo felt the straight razor slide silently down his wrist into place in his palm.
😭 this brought back so many childhood feelings. I often just ran when my ball landed somewhere where it shouldn't have. Asking a neighbor to give it back would likely kill me. Funny thing is it sort of is the same way now, I hate approaching strangers so much, but years of work in hospitality forced me to adapt haha.
Likewise. It was always a long discussion as to who goes and gets the ball. I also don't feel comfortable approaching strangers for no reason, it's a wonder I have a social life or family at all!
My 80 mg of answer:
The street was narrow, gravelly and surrounded by a willow grove. Peter had been walking for several days, with a backpack and a stick. hHe continued, slowly, at an almost dragging pace. Peter was searching for a relieving answer . And he had been going on for a month, alone, tired. His head weighed as much as his backpack.
He hoped to find on El Camino the peace he hasn't had since the day his son died in a car accident.
Powerful, love this!!
PROMPT: ANSWER
THE ADVICE
Every time he needed advice, or someone to talk to, he would just be told to ask later.
Even if he managed to get an answer out of them, it would usually be very abrupt.
“Do you think I’m good enough to try out for the football team?”
“No.”
“Do you like my ideas for this week’s storytelling assignment?”
“No.”
It was starting to become really frustrating, and the constant negativity was really wearing him down.
Stupid Magic 8 Ball… 😎
What would you like to order?"
"I'm not sure," she stammered. She scanned the rows and rows of ice cream flavors. "There are too many options." She blinked rapidly.
Her new foster dad frowned and knelt down.
"Hey, what's going on? Have you ever gone out for ice cream before?"
She shook her head, looking at the floor.
He stood. Held back tears. Swallowed hard.
"Do you do samples?" He asked the cashier.
They nodded.
"Let's try one of everything."
Since answers aren't always unique in math, I have two submissions today.
First:
The answer, isn’t that always the question?
Perhaps I’m becoming philosophical as I age, which is doubtful, given that I seem to be imbued with a lifetime subscription of hubris.
Isn’t the path more important than the answer?
I spent four decades explaining to students that, while their final result may be correct, the techniques they’ve used, or the reasoning they’ve employed, is flawed in some manner.
I used to say: It’s the journey as well as destination that’s important.
Second:
Is it right?
That’s why I studied Mathematics, you could prove everything.
In English I got C’s because of how my instructors felt.
In Mathematics I got A’s. Many instructors changed my grade, saying: That isn’t the way I would have done it.
My retort was always: Is it right?
At college I heard of Kurt Gödel’s Incompleteness Theorem: That in any reasonable mathematical system there will always be true statements that cannot be proved.
I had lucked out earlier.
The second one is an illustration of the lifetime hubris referred to in the first.
Here are 5 Tanka exploring the themes suggested by the prompts (Answer, Luna, Old, Eyes, Negotiation):
➰
Whispered answer floats
On moonlit breeze, ephemeral
Luna's secret shared
Ancient wisdom in her glow
Illuminates the unknown
➰
Old eyes, deep as wells
Reflect a lifetime of tales
Silent negotiation
Between past and present tense
In each weathered wrinkle's fold
➰
Luna's silver face
Negotiates with inky sky
For moments of light
Answering night's dark silence
With her old, knowing pallor
➰
Seeking answers, I
Gaze into your ageless eyes
Luna overhead
Witness to our whispered pleas
Time-worn talks of give and take
➰
Negotiation's dance
Luna waxes, wanes above
Old as time itself
Eyes search heavens for answer
In celestial diplomacy
〰️〰️
I copied ‘Words in Bloom’ idea to use several prompts in one post. Here’s the way my Tanka came together.
Luna is another name for the moon, right? I thought that was an interesting starting point. I sprinkled "Luna" throughout most of the poems - sometimes directly, sometimes just hinting at it with phrases like "moonlit breeze."
For "answer," I played around with that idea in different ways. Sometimes it's pretty straightforward, like "Whispered answer floats" in the first poem. Other times, it's more about searching for answers, like looking up at the sky hoping for some cosmic insight.
The "old" theme was fun to work with. I tried to evoke a sense of age and wisdom - you've got old eyes, ancient knowledge, that sort of thing. It ties in nicely with the moon, which has been around forever, hasn't it? Or … has it?
For "eyes," I mostly used it literally - talking about gazing or searching. But it's also about perception and understanding in a broader sense.
"Negotiation" was probably the trickiest to fit in naturally. I tried to think of it in different ways - the back-and-forth between past and present, or even imagining the moon negotiating with the night sky for its place.
The lovely thing about tanka is how you can layer these ideas. So in each poem, I tried to mix and match the themes. For instance, you might have the old moon negotiating with the sky, or ancient eyes searching for answers.
For me, it’s all about creating these little word-pictures that hopefully make you think about how these ideas connect. Does that make sense? What do you think about how it all came together?
I think that combines the prompts very nicely, and works well. I enjoyed the little 'behind the scenes' look at the writing process and how it all came together as well... 😎
Very cool. Awesome as always.
“What do you seek?” the voice bellowed, rattling the walls of the cave.
The group trembled.
“We just want to get out of here,” said their leader.
“Then feed me.”
“With what?”
“You know the answer.”
The leader turned to the group, scanning their dirty, tired faces. Who would be their sacrifice?
He pointed at the weakest of them. “Take her.”
The voice burst out laughing. “A meal, not a snack.”
Then it devoured them, saving the snack for later.
“Death’s Deal”
Microdose Answer 80 words
The woman spat on the grave of her late husband. She turned a bruised face away, but then came a voice from the dark of a nearby crypt. The question blew across the dead grass like wind through a tomb. “Do you know how Heaven and Hell are the same?”
She froze, loathing that rasping voice. “He deserved it.”
When the voice spoke, it was far away and fading. “They are both… forever.”
The answer did not ease her mind.
Governor Belliurat scheduled the deportations to begin tomorrow morning, local time. “This is my planet, your jurisdiction ends in orbit,” he said.
So, Admiral Adrian Huxton came down to visit.
He landed at the edge of the colony and walked through the overcrowded ghettos, breathing in sewage and desperation.
At the palace, he burst into the governor’s banquet.
“I thought I’d give answer in person,” he said, and pointed up. The sky glowed aflame, and orbit came down to meet them.
Wow! This one is so hopeful yet, heart breaking Miguel.
Yeah, I tried to convey the sense of betrayal so to speak.
Wow! This is so powerful, Miguel! The emotional journey you've taken us on in this, with so few words, is just phenomenal. Great job! 😎
Thank you ,Chris!
Oh, this was gutting.
Well done.
Thank you :)
Spliff had been angling for an advantage over Udo lately. Dangerous business.
Questioning him in front of the guys. Second guessing. That kind of thing.
The boss noticed.
“You know when a soccer team tries to press for an edge. Putting on pressure. Probing for weakness in the defense. The announcers call that ‘asking questions’.”
Spliff yawned. “So.”
Udo felt the straight razor slide silently down his wrist into place in his palm.
“You are not gonna like my answer.”
Uuu. I love me some gangsters settling scores. Great stuff Scott!
You made me a prompt I couldn’t refuse
Very nice! I've been enjoying these Mob stories. They're like mini movies... 😎
Thx. Down to 80 words today,really makes u squeeze 😊
Haha! 😎👍
I should push for the 50 and 60mgs again haha.
"Don't answer. Please, don't answer."
The thud from the solid black knocker still echoed.
"They won't care. They'll ignore me."
He heard footsteps getting closer.
"How do I get into these positions? It wasn't even my fault. It was an accident."
The door swung open. He froze. The man stared back.
"Your ball again?"
His heart was making a bid for freedom against his ribs. "Yes sir, sorry sir, it was an accident sir."
"Next time it'll be the shears.”
😭 this brought back so many childhood feelings. I often just ran when my ball landed somewhere where it shouldn't have. Asking a neighbor to give it back would likely kill me. Funny thing is it sort of is the same way now, I hate approaching strangers so much, but years of work in hospitality forced me to adapt haha.
Likewise. It was always a long discussion as to who goes and gets the ball. I also don't feel comfortable approaching strangers for no reason, it's a wonder I have a social life or family at all!
Final Call
The phone rang once, then silence. Captain Dubois watched it intently.
Across the room, the killer sat with arms crossed, a smirk on his face. “You won’t find her in time.”
Dubois's teeth pressed together in frustration.
The phone rang again, longer this time.
“Answer it,” the killer taunted.
Dubois hit the button. A faint, desperate voice crackled through. “Help…”
The killer’s smirk faded.
Dubois stood up, his tone firm. “Looks like I just did,” he said, the unexpected victory clear in his voice.
Longing and disillusionment at their maximum extent, Miguel.