SOMETHING ABOUT LONGING

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It's eight-thirty at night. I was out all day taking a course on how to photograph your artwork from Jeremy Addington. I learned a ton about the inner workings of my little Lumix that I've never bothered with before. All this learning, of course, meant not writing a poem. A replacement poem, to be exact. The prompt?

“Pick a common noun for a physical thing, for example, “desk” or “hat” or “bear,” and then pick one for something intangible, like “love” or “memories” or “aspiration.” Then Google your tangible noun, and find some sentences using it. Now, replace that tangible noun in those sentences with your intangible noun, and use those sentences to create (or inspire) a poem."

I used "fence" as my tangible and "longing" as my intangible, found a bunch of sentences to do with fences on Wikipedia and other websites, and fiddled them around to get this:

Something About Longing

Ownership of longing varies.

Longing redefines smiles, 

provides spaces which own the longing, 

obstructing the view.

The value of longing,

the metaphorical significance of longing,

something about longing

needs barbed-wire, doesn't climb over it.

Source of bitter arguments,

the inside face of longing

makes you feel special,

unsettled, owned by longing.

What kind of longing is required, 

what kind of repairs are needed, 

how to share the costs?

Fear is longing.

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