This month’s writing prompt was ‘tan lines’. Here we showcase our favourite responses.
Tan lines writing prompt: Heatwaves and holidays bring out the sun cream. Lather it on. Don’t get burnt. Skin will peel and bubble and split. Some go pink, then bronze afterwards. But the lines which trail between the boundary of material and exposed flesh will make a mark. A line of sight from the sun’s watchful gaze.
Strawberry season
Delicate skin gets a pink pinch
Eyes and nose refuse not to itch
The sweet sense of endless time
Sun not setting until quarter past nine
Life swells outside your home
Buds bursting and bushes explode
Jobs to do for the first time this year
Lawns to mow and bird song to hear
You exist outside as much as you can
‘Cause what was the point if you didn’t get a tan,
Or at least saw the sky whilst it was clear
If you’re lucky you sat in the sun with a pimms or a beer
Silly traditions we do every year
Because collectively we know this is fleeting
Strawberry season is only a greeting
A prequel to the years’ end
A reminder to enjoy Summer’s every second
by Amy Hawkins (@amylhawkins_ Instagram, @hawkinsbitesize Twitter)
august reflections of a girl who lives by the sea
i wish i was exactly my age
and it was august
i wish i lived by the sea,
and you would, too
and i wish you’d knock to take me out for a
swim in the late afternoon
it’d smell of salt and air and fried foods
we’d hear a toddler laugh
and a three-legged dog would run and spray
crisp droplets over our sun-kissed calves
and i would wish it was a little hotter,
just a little
we’re not in spain though,
it’s the uk, but it’s still summer
and also warm enough for swimsuits
so i can’t really complain
and i wish that where the sun hits my neck
and my chest and the small of my back
and my birkenstocked feet it will paint lines
like vanilla ice cream melting over a scoop of chocolate
by muriel gévaudan (@murielgevaudan Twitter, Instagram)
“Brown as a berry”
A strange thing my mother says
When she remembers summer holidays
With me as a child, running amuck,
All day in just my swimming trunks.
Changing my skin passively, from bare
Feet up to my summer shaggy hair
bleaching back to that toddler blonde.
The alliteration works, I know
But would you eat a brown berry?
Could you play from breakfast ‘til dusk,
In just your small Speedos®, without
Even one thought for how you looked?
Should you drink some water? Or put on
Some sunblock? Oblivious, unconsciously in love
With the warmth of the air, the length of the day,
Sulking to be wrangled indoors for dinner and a wash.
She will always remember you, stood in the bathtub,
‘Brown as a berry’ except for your unremovable
Pair of white pants; the true untanned part of you.
And you remember the sound of her chuckling
At the sight as she rinses shampoo from your head
And it runs over your scrunched up eyes, over
Your pouting shut tight mouth, down the plughole
And gone forever, irretrievable.
by Wes Finch (@wesfinch Twitter)
Sinful
Is it sinful to kiss the parts no sun ever reaches,
To covet the inner flower bud of your truth?
To entwine in abandon on Spanish beaches,
Caress on a penthouse roof?
by Emma Conally-Barklem (@emmaliveyoga Instagram)
TAN LINES
1.
Summers brink, sun drink
swimmers love, they don’t think
sifting through a sunlit life like nature
chiffon shift of blue won’t do
night air a subtle clone of new hot breath
on naval, red she drew
they won’t be saved just have to pass through
look out for her, she will get you
look out for the sun and her midnight brew.
2.
salt tinged, summer binged
star-crossed lines on the body’s fringe
will you be here when they start to shake at the ends
will you be over and back by then? Or will I just sit
with golden reminders
beaming at me without grace.
3.
Tree binds the closest thing to it it could
let out a roar sing
name will still be stamped on it’s neighbour
stamped, stampede
look out for vicinity’s kin
box it up, take it for a swim
the hi and the they will speak
they will speak all on your skin
listen for the end of day
before you go back in.
4.
walking around with this memory
on me, is a tide that forgot to go out
gathering seashells and salt logged woods in one place
far too long, reminding us that things must
always go back to normal –
people will notice if they don’t and then
you will have questions to answer.
They will take you back to the warm air
without asking, make you
say – oh really, I hadn’t noticed?
tell the same stories
again, you will have to hear theirs
one body holds two
the one that went and the one that’s you
an edifice singed on
its pass, shared all
that was and actually
you are glad,
it has been a stubborn reminder.
by Lara Allan (@stressdove Instagram)
Keep an eye out for our September writing prompt which will be announced through our newsletter and social media. To sign up for our newsletter, visit our website here and subscribe.
Featured image via Pinterest.
swim press 