This is for my friend Crabbs who celebrated a big birthday in Africa this weekend.
It's inspired by recent reminiscence over a weekend gone bush with the gang in northern KwaZulu Natal years ago. Specifically, a night of magnetic poetry around the campfire (it took some convincing I might add) that produced some surprisingly impressive works.
Luckily (!) our efforts were recorded for posterity and are treasured in the Rubyfire vault...
Magnetic poetry doesn't just have to be a drinking game.
Think of it as throwing an aerosol into the bonfire of your imagination and fanning the flames of your creativity. Whooshka!
The rules go like this:
1. Pick a handful of words out of the magnetic word bag.
2. Create a poem out of them.
3. Don't worry if it doesn't make sense. That's what poetic license is for.
In defence of our Sobhengu anthology - which, should it ever see the light of day, might be displayed in the 'bawdy and purile with flashes of self-proclaimed brilliance' section of the poetry aisle - it's more difficult than you think. So today's effort is certainly no Pulitzer Prize contender...but at least it's clean.