I've taken up with a writing group in Dublin titled Inkslingers who meet every Saturday in The Irish Writers Centre, Parnell Square, Dublin.
Each week they write for thirty minutes to either a written or visual prompt drawn at random from a bag.
Here's a poem I wrote off the cuff a couple of weeks back to a postcard of Manhattan:
I'll take Manhattan
Though where is Staten Island?
That place features in a song
Though it fiddles in the slot of runner-up
The name I enjoy - Staten
It's as though it were a State, but grander
And so I'll accept it in preference to its city neighbour.
On second thoughts, may I take both?
Give me Ellis while we're at it
A relative or more passed through there
Does that not entitle one to stake a claim?
The miners of '49 worked this way
Wherever their picks struck soil
Marked their parcel of range
I'll chance it in the same manner
A tour of those NY isles and the boroughs too
In each I shall holler aloud -
I am the Lord of all I survey
and yell Eureka upon the unearthing of metropolitan gold.