December 17th - Prompt: Location, Location, Location

Today's prompt is one that I love, and it is one that can be a TON of fun to work with so long as you have the right place.  It's all about the location.

Write a poem about a place.

That's it.  Nothing more. Nothing less.  The trick, however, is to write your poem in a way that means something to you, that is interesting and eye-catching (or ear catching), and that other people can relate to.  You could write your poem speaking from a different point of view (perhaps a tree or landmark in the location you're writing about) or a letter which personifies the place to which you're writing.  This place can be anything: that one nice, quiet park bench, the restaurant you frequent, or even the city in which you live.

If you're stuck on ideas, feel free to check out this video of a poem inspired by this prompt; it's all about the Quad Cities along the Mississippi river on the Iowa/Illinois border:

Have fun and happy writing!

December 10th - Prompt: Working Prompt

Today, we're going to begin getting into the writing method.  This prompt will incorporate (for the first time, sadly) a quick explanation of one of the most potent tools that a poet has at his/her disposal: the metaphor. So, with that in mind, let's get to the first piece of this prompt.

Think about a job you have worked in the past.

This is a pretty simple task.  Think of a job, any job, at which you have worked.  Got one?  Maybe two if you're unsure about the second piece of the prompt?  Okay, good! Let's go on.

Write 5 metaphors which describe this job.

Metaphor is a somewhat scary word.  I still am humbled by its power.  But the basic structure, grammatically, of a metaphor is relatively simple:

Noun + a "be verb" (click for link to explain) + another noun

This could look like:

My job was a fire breathing dragon.

The morning commute was a march into chains.

Or any number of other things you could possibly relate your work experience to.  Keep in mind (my take on poetry and metaphor incoming) that metaphors are meant to take the unique and make them universal.  No one else can have your work experience.  Therefore, it is up to you to make that very unique experience make sense to other people through the use of metaphor.  What was your work?  Can we see it better?  Can we maybe taste it?  Smell it?  Experience it?  Help us understand.

Now the final part of this prompt (which is sort of a workshop):

With one (maybe two) of the metaphors you wrote in mind, expand upon that into a full-fledged poem.

For example, using one of the lines above, I might find:

My job was a fire breathing dragon: it was always angry and seemed to burn when I got too close, but it guarded treasure which I was loathe to pass up.

Now, we have a better understanding of what your job was and why.  The reason you wrote 5 metaphors but only used one was to help if you ever got stuck.  If you get stuck in writing, look at your other metaphors (your pre-writing) and use those as inspiration.

If anyone has questions about this writing prompt, feel free to post below.  And, as always, I welcome you to share your work in the comments below as well!

Have fun and happy writing!

Assorted Love Poems

Poems.  They're about love a lot.  Some of my writing is no exception.  If you want to check out a recent prompt about the topic, click here.  Anyhow, as that post said, I was looking through some old notebooks and found a few poems (or more accurately pieces) on the subject and wanted to post them up because I know at least one person who would really like them!

Falling

It's not that I'm falling for you;
it's just that I kinda maybe probably really sorta sorely want to.
I want to fall like a rock through the sky,
a bird who's forgotten how to fly
because it's been a long time
since I've heard the wind's song chime
so loud and strong within one such sitting
and, girl, you're like Charlie Sheen: duh, winning
at every aspect, but if I had to come clean
I'd say my grasp on firm ground began to ween
that first moment the waves of your voice lapped at my ears.
Such a pleasant sound which assuaged my fears,
my worries at donning a teacher's belt that first day
and more or less stumbling my first lesson away.
Yet I know beyond the beat of my heart
that I wanted to impress you with my art,
for far and away you were a wonder to meet
as, instead of ground, I found falling at my feet.
So it's not that I'm falling for you;
it's that I kinda maybe probably really sorta sorely want to.

_________________________________________________________________________________

Details

As a poet, I know I'm supposed to write about love like
I have a patent on it - like only I understand the plans
filed in that patent office just above your 6th rib. Like
I know so much more about love because, after all,
that's why I write poetry, right?
Because I know what love is like
but I've lost it.

Listen, the only time I've
tasted what love was like was when it
slipped between our lips
during that sudden first kiss, when
it rested on her neck - I could taste
it for just a moment then.
The only time I've seen
love was when it waved its way
and framed her face - I could've sworn
I saw it even in the night and half light
coming from a silent alarm set to break our reverie.
And I only felt
it when she fell into my arms
for the first time -
felt it when my fingers sifted
past strands of hair, to brush
them back and clear her ears.

See - poetry, like love,
exists in the details, so
the only reason I can even begin
to know what love is like
is because I've paid attention
to the details. Like
the way she ties her shoes -
two bows crossed in two loops
and it's beautiful - the details
are all that I remember.
Like how she would tell me
to stop thinking when we danced
because thoughts interfere
with my feet and somehow
muddle the beat. Like
the way we'd walk
but couldn't stop
music from running away
with our feet, like
the way she'd smile, say
"yeah, yeah!" when
something caught her eye
and I loved
the way her hazel
eyes gathered gold
in flecks and reflected
my questions with rich
intelligence. I liked
the way she'd inspire this poetry
in me - this is
an attempt to capture the swish
of her hips on dance floors or
the feel of fingers intertwined
with mine or the warmth
of an embrace or the feel
of her shoulders in my frame.

Poetry is she
and this
is an attempt
to convey that.

_________________________________________________________________________________


She Is

She is like air.
Light, playful, there.
Almost unnoticed,
until she's noticed.
Then, she's hard to forget.
Hard to forget that I breathe her in when
I lack energy - she
could set a ship's course,
make the seas rage,
uproot trees, scatter debris
and flood the land, but
she doesn't.

Choosing warmth, she
speaks softly, almost
as a whisper through leaves.
Although I don't know it yet, I
sense she has the ability
to sweep clouds away
and leave only sun
shining, warm, smiling.

December 3rd Prompt and Poem - It's in the Music

Recently, I attended a memorial walk for an acquaintance who had passed.  I was listening to a conversation that another friend of his was having.  One word stuck out: "Searching."  Ideas flooded into being; I brought out my notebook and began to write.  I listened to a song with the same title as the word which had just been used.  For reference, this is the song I was listening to:

This is the piece which followed:

Searching

There is a song called "Searching" by an artist
named Joe Satriani. It's a song that starts
off with a slow pulse - like a question at rest.
Chords kick in and a driving solo begins like
the notes are trying to find their home - wide
vibratos and a bass which wants to find its place
between the high strung, tight singing strings and
those loose enough to make rock roll. Suddenly,
the guitar swings wildly, matching the frenetic
pace of the bass, and I realize that the music
is matching emotions, and I wonder if this
is what the music inside of his mind sounded like
when he searched for an answer - a reason for being?
an idea to hold onto? beauty? a melody?
Was he searching for a string - vibrant, sonorous - enough
to stitch his heart back together -
when a man's hands close like life could
never fill them again, the reason is rarely the moment -
the reason is rarely in the hands - the reason
seems to be nothing - nothing found from the
search - no thing strong enough
to hold hands open anymore - what were you searching
for?
       I can't find anything but upset in the waves
that continue outward - music only exists in the moments
we hear it, but its reverberations can be heard
in the echoes of instruments and in their phrasings like
"I'm sorry for your loss" or "I remember when..." because
not everyone has fingers nimble enough to
pluck out notes, but we all have a heart
strong enough to be tuned and sing out your
praises - and, honestly, I never knew you
well enough to even begin to understand why
the beats of all these hearts sound so somber,
but I have to believe that this
is the only way your song could have ended -
it was always in your hands, and this note - this
note
        is trying to make all the songs we're singing
find harmony because one day those songs too will end, but
our search will continue, and
one day
we may find
the strings to complete this symphony.

_________________________________________________________________________________


Music is a very powerful force in our lives, so I want to ask you to tap into that power.

Find a song (it can have lyrics, but instrumental ones can provide for more interpretation) and write a poem about what it means to you.

What connections does this song have?  How do you feel when the music plays?  Do you feel that the song is saying something other than what you can hear?  Are there any stories which go along with this song?  I have a tendency to attach potent memories to songs, so bring up your past if you'd like, and tell your story through a song.

Feel free to post what you come up with hear and a link to the music which inspired it!

Additionally, there may be a fund set up in honor of the subject of this poem and to help his family. I will update with any further information as it becomes available for anyone who may be interested in learning more.

Thank you and happy writing!