Speccie - Non-verbal communication
 

Non-verbal communication? Don't I get enough of that from my kids? (I hear you say).

But seriously folks-- I'm talking about the latest Speccie.

No. 2607: Non-verbal communication
You are invited to submit a piece of verbless prose (150 words maximum). Entries to ‘Competition 2607’ by midday on 29 July or email lucy@spectator.co.uk Please note the earlier than usual closing date.


OK, I know it's not poetry--but I thought y'all might find it interesting. After all, didn't Gertrude Stein say poetry was about the noun, fiction about the verb? Or was it the other way around? :confused:

Anyway, since I, no doubt like the rest of you, have so much time to waste, I took a whack at it.

*************

“Yes. Dead people. Real as life. And not like that kid in The Sixth Sense: ghosts with a need for closure, for vindication. Mine—well. . . not exactly evil or malevolent. More—ominous. Threatening—”

“How often?”

“All the time. At the office. On the street. In my bedroom at night--”

“Any unusal problems lately—work, family, relationships?”

“Nothing, really. Um...except the car accident.”

“Ah! Sometimes physical or emotional trauma—in your case, both—

“No! Oh God! None of my friends, my family, not even my girlfriend-- Please, doctor! My only hope--"

"Yes, yes, of course, son. Nurse?”

“Yes, doctor.”

“5 mg of thiopental, please—

“No!”

“There, there, my friend. . . no pain…"

“NOOOOOOOOO. . . . . ”

Brilliant, Marion! I was too thick to see what she was after. I think I'll have a go. I think.

Dreary day again. More of the same. Bad pianists, worse singers for hours and hours. A prize for the least boring. So many ambitious fools. The adjudicator? Me. Why? Bottom of the list. For prestige? Not for money.

Für Elise again and again. Liszt Hungarian Rhapsodies for eight hands. Eight feet more like.

Fat wobbly sopranos, fruity contraltos, thin tenors, foggy baritones.

Women with too much eye makeup and guitars. Spanish medleys.

Thin adenoidal children in duets by Arthur Sullivan. Musical monologues in costume.

Lunch with the professors. No alcohol.

Nice one Janet. It just occured to me that ANY list poem would do and, by the big toe of Wotan, I have plenty.

Good, Janet! I get the feeling you lived that one.

I think maybe mine reads more like a screenplay than prose. But dialogue without attribution sure can dispose of a lot of verbs!

Wondering if a good idea would be write about arm movements/signals - like that of an umpire, or whatever........(just a thought)

Marion,
Your piece is beyond brilliant. If it doesn't win there's something wrong with the system.
I was one of the pianist brats in local competitions. I have friends who acted as adjudicators. I never had that "honour";-)

This would count, wouldn't it?

Goods Trains 1955

Lunt, Lunt, Hickleton, Hickleton,
Ollershaw, Shufflewick, Skelmersdale, Ramsbottom,
Perks, Lunt, Wigglesworth, Battersby,
Partridge, McAllister, Hickleton, Small,
Swindell & Sattherswaite, Cartwright & Bounderby,
Harbottle-Felix, Mudassar & Duns,
Hutton, Northallerton, Pickering, Rollo,
McIver, Fitzwillam, Concannon & Sons.

Queen, Pope, Cardinal, Davenport,
Butler & Butler, O’Brien & Paterson,
Crooke, Toft, Longfellow, Longfellow,
Bastable, Slattery, Cummings & Ball.
Spillsbury-Nicholls, Upritchard, McAllister,
Potterton, Potterton, Potterton, Blow,
Hindenberg, Barber & Barber, De Freitas,
Antonio Brothers, Buchanan & Co.

As long as "Blow" isn't a verb ;-)

A Walk Through Night

Away from Man’s intrusion—
A world of dark and fusion.
No payments and no tickets
For thickets full of crickets,
For katydids and bats,
White moths and swarms of gnats,
Bullfrogs, sounds of splashes,
Fleeting meteor flashes,
Skunk cabbage, skunks, fern fronds,
Blithe fish in golf course ponds,
The night Terpsichore
Of a mockingbird, carefree
In maple, oak tree, pine,
Or hickory, the shine
Of Vega in the sky,
Red fox and firefly
In air or on the rug
Of green for vole and bug,
In the far-off twilight-din
Of the cosmic violin.