“Metrics of Success” / "Big News" / "While We Lasted..."
Paint Chip Poetry #22-24: April 22, 23, & 24, 2025
“Metrics of Success”
Once segmented, regimented, my plans marched off to battlefields marked by an endless trail of blood, sweat, and tears. Fear clouded every trivial judgement, leaving practically nothing behind of substance, just the editor working tirelessly—mindlessly. The shower of blue ribbons clouded my vision, keeping my drifting, airy ways at bay, long enough to learn how to hold back and obey. To be praised in the Garden of Eden was once my creed. to maintain the succulent sparkle of pizzazz, the ruinous accident also known as "Natural Born Talent." To break life's wishbone, to bet wildly on a safe dream, and discover nothing but the same old emptiness. Stuck somewhere between utterly shattered and just peachy, wondering always if it's really out there, something grand planned for my hereafter. Hazier thoughts follow deepest breaths, and the too-loud senses dull to a quiet drone. the old metrics of success don't matter anymore.
“Big News“
The Sun's rays peacock proudly through outer space, as if to say "Hey, I've got some Big News for you." From the tallest cliff dwelling to the smallest crawlspace, cumulonimbus clouds surround and crowd the best views. "Honey, you got a big storm coming," Mother says in her all-knowing, almighty way. Black widows trickle down slowly in their analyses, Whilst hot lava spews from the middle of the beltway. News travels faster than light in this place. For a second, you wonder—how? why? What swallowed these once stout united states? The wondering ceases when you realize-- oh, maybe we were always the bad guys.
“While We Lasted…”
It was all so good while it lasted— sea glass fragments scattered across the sand, driftwood tossed, gathered, and sorted by hand; sunbursts illuminating the modest morning sky, sunsets tinged with pink and orange passing by; dewdrops on marigolds beaded together like pearls, county fairs brimming with funnel cakes and tilt a-whirls; It was all so good while it lasted— the sweetness of your impish smile, the foolish notion someone might stick around for a while; brave-ish words that slipped from my mouth, stolen kisses and seemingly endless topics to talk about; George Harrison's words echo over and over and over again, & the used record—a sacred monument to us—still spins.
What is Paint Chip Poetry?
While browsing an art supply store recently, I came across a small game box filled with small paint chips and prompts—simple building blocks with which to create infinite poems and colorful sequences.
I’ve always adored poetry but never felt particularly adept at writing it. This year, I’d like to try and get better. With it being National Poetry Month, I thought it would be a fun writing challenge to use this game box as inspiration to write a brand new poem every day for the entire month of April.
The Rules
I must choose a prompt and four-to-eight paint chips at random. I get a single opportunity to re-draw a sample if I’m not feeling it, but that’s it. Just one. However, I can redraw if I get a repeat.
I must write a poem using the prompt and all of the paint chip words/phrases within the text of the poem. They must be bolded and italicized.
I must post the poem each day to Substack & include a photo of the paint chips in every post.
Hard to believe April is almost over. Wonderful work! Patiently awaiting the final set.