postcard poems

Day 30: First gray

2009-04-30T22:41:00.000-07:00

I found it
one day
growing
with the browns
on the back
of my head
I plucked it out
and taped it
to my mirror
(out of pride?)

Finally!
I
have
ar-
rived.

Day 29: Mixed signal

2009-04-29T22:41:00.000-07:00

Has it ever happened to you
at a traffic light you
are waiting
the light is red
then next to the red light
another one turns green
the red one stays red
and you almost go
but stop

*

First it takes you a while
but once you realize
who it is you think
you ought to say hi
but you wait
(for what)
because you are behind her
but then she notices you
and says hi first
she's nice
you wait

*

Finally you realize there
is nothing left to do
but go
because everyone is
waiting for you
it's your turn
so you go
wind your way
down streets
through unconfusedly
green-only traffic lights
past a street named
cumberland
and you are glad
you could at least talk to her
about books

*

Day 28: The comforting voice

2009-04-28T21:40:00.000-07:00

It's no wonder that
when I reach the point of needing to
talk myself out of a panic
and keep calm
that I use—
no, I become
that voice,
one that permeated my childhood
in the form of Hayley Mills
or Julie Andrews
mature
and British.
And as I go on it sort of evolves into
more of an Emma Thompson imitation
she is so wise,
my child self
rattled with panic and insecurity
simply listens, rapt.

If I'm alone in the car
I can pretty much talk myself
out of any worry
and it just looks like I'm
talking on my hands-free
to someone real.

Day 27: Why/When bad things happen to good palm trees

2009-04-27T11:03:00.000-07:00

Take this one: transplanted as an adult,
chosen to landscape the grounds of the church.
It must have been a good palm tree to be chosen, right?
Done something right
made good choices—
its life plan set in front of it
and promises being fulfilled.
By all appearances, a good tree.

Perhaps at one point
it felt there was dissonance in
expectations there—
when the wind would blow sea breezes and
scents that stirred a kind of memory
(if a tree has a memory) and
realization set in: it didn't want this—
this prescribed pattern of being it was fixed in—
and so it could not perform anymore.

It hit just like a raindrop
suddenly but with hardly a notice
not enough to make a splash and gradual—
driving past you could tell it wasn't flourishing
anymore, (had it ever?)
illness had set in. Weak enough to die.

Every other tree remained green, able
to focus having retained
their ability to photosynthesize.

Day 26: Harry's poem

2009-04-26T22:29:00.000-07:00

tell me how long till
it's morning
my eyes will not
stay shut

I love you more
than a dinosaur

now sleep beside me
for the whole night

I love you more
than a dinosaur

Day 25: Japanese bookstore

2009-04-25T22:00:00.000-07:00

It is the only place to get
the pens
I love

but I got mad at the sales clerk
when they didn't accept a return
and
told her I refused to shop there ever again

So I send other people in for me
when I need replacements and refills
those tempting tiny fine little tips
my temper my tiny but sharp retort

Day 24: Sitting position at 32 years

2009-04-24T23:04:00.000-07:00

I never thought of myself before
as round
but always sucked in my gut.
Now I don't have the energy
or the care
to suck it in
and don't have the metabolism
to keep from growing outward
from my center.

But when I'm forced to select
my body type
from the following shapes:
triangle, circle, rectangle or hourglass—
really? I have to say circle to be completely honest
because here in my middle
both back and front
I am round
getting thicker
feeling rolls
I've never felt before.

Day 23: In defense of bad drivers

2009-04-23T22:59:00.000-07:00

My husband says I should be a spokesperson
for all the drivers he calls idiots
because I give them the benefit of the doubt.
Really I can see myself
doing the same stupid things
with little excuse.
He curses them
the annoyance of their existence on the road
the hazard they are to people everywhere
and I am explaining
how they could actually be thinking this
or trying to do something-or-other
or be having a brain fart for heaven's sake.
And we argue the whole way home
until our son is asking us
please stop like fifteen minutes ago.
It all boils down to the time I ran a stop sign
without realizing it and wrecked the car.
I never thought I was a bad driver.
But there it was
confirmed.

I feel passionately for these strangers' plight
and want to make their case heard
shield them from criticism they will never hear.
If I could be a bad driver
then anyone could be a bad driver.
I am every bad driver. Our average-ness is our excuse.
Our normalcy.
I will give them the benefit of the doubt
every time
unless I see them talking on cell phones.
Then they are clearly idiots
and I will give my unsympathetic husband
the benefit of the doubt for once.

Day 22: Circle soap

2009-04-22T22:59:00.000-07:00

A plain looking thing
fat disk
of oil and lye
forced to sit and cure

becoming
something permanent
it may not have chosen
for itself

but holding it
between my palms
feels right
subtle thing

under warm water
bumpy rotation
awkward lather
it becomes ethereal.

Day 21: How to un-inform your self, 3rd attempt

2009-04-21T21:53:00.000-07:00

Here's one
get yourself on one of those whale watching trips
carefully write down all information that needs
complete destruction
on rice paper with grease pencil
and feed it in tiny pieces to a sea creature
small enough to become
part of the whale's lunch
and you may come home with some relief.

Day 20: Water water

2009-04-20T23:14:00.000-07:00

There is a flutter in my ear
I do not know how it got there
In the right ear every 42 seconds

Something it might be telling me
Is that I am finished doing
Somersaults in the pool

For today

Day 19: Exercise in draining

2009-04-19T23:21:00.000-07:00

I am training
to squeeze
information
from where it
is plenty
or scarce.

Sometimes it
will build up
so that I
almost burst
and I would
for certain
if you caught
me off guard.

So I get
information,
I hold it,
but then learn
to drain it
properly.

Day 18: On long-term dreaming

2009-04-18T23:47:00.000-07:00

You once had
an aspiration
most people would balk at.

But who knew it would be so painful
to create
draining your daylight
to maintain the roles you created.

And
the steady drag
of the daily duties
of living (let's not even mention
the worst ones
like eating
and sleeping
getting in the way
heavy eyelids and
hunger pangs—
they interrupt
and are difficult
pests)

You are changed.
But you are not someone else.
To stop before you thought you would
is not damning.

Day 17: Thinking about my core

2009-04-17T22:21:00.000-07:00

The first time
I realized I'd lost it
was a couple of weeks
after my second baby was born
I needed to sneeze and anticipated
the pain
afraid the force of it would rip me in half
or else make me implode
indiscriminate thoughts
of my body failing
falling apart
to ruin
from there on out

I made the moment into a laugh
but it was heavy with
not knowing
what would happen to me
in weakness

A year or so later I had a physical exam
as part of a job interview
because there would be
light lifting
they asked me to do a sit-up
but I couldn't
without cheating

I have not been working on repair
building a center of strength
I have neglected all kinds of
attention to my core
successfully ignored plain needs

So last night
I flexed as I lay on my back in bed
just to see

lifted my legs, straightened and stiff
and my shoulders suspended above my pillow
felt it burn
this is it, it is mine
this shallow and slightly curved "v"

Day 16: Cosmetics

2009-04-16T23:21:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I am more interested
in poking my lips
when they are dry,
because I like the way
it feels
when they pop
back into shape,

than in taking care of them
like with lip balm
and other such cosmetics.

Day 15: Wearing it on your sleeve

2009-04-15T23:10:00.000-07:00

You wear this shirt
for its plum color but
not for the length
of the sleeves

and the dress you keep
for the complexity
of its texture, stiff but soft,
but not for the fit of it

the navy one because
in it, you feel covered
and no one will notice
any weight you have gained.

Still not one of them
ever completely sheds
itself of things you
will have to confront.

*

Today you put on black
not white, because it means
something to you.
Not something dead

but living.
Not tidy
or still
but evolving.

Day 14: Poem dictated to me by my husband John

2009-04-14T22:28:00.001-07:00

{Note: this poem has to be read aloud slowly for the full effect.}

Scrimmage

scrimmage
scrimmage scrimmage scrimmage
take it
give it
all
for the scrimmage
scrimmage
scrimmage!

you might
think
or/that
you might not
think
but
scrimmage
scrimmage scrimmage scrimmage

that's what it's all about
its scrimmage, your scrimmage
you thought I didn't know
apostrophes.
but I know them like
I know
the scrimmage
scrimmage scrimmage scrimmage

Day 13: Strangers on a Train

2009-04-13T21:12:00.001-07:00

In the other room
my house guests are watching
the Hitchcock film
tennis match to calliope climax.

I can hear their enjoyment
through the wall—
squeals and roars in unison
and I smile.

Day 12: Notice - This panic bar has been intentionally disabled

2009-04-12T21:48:00.000-07:00

I saw it on a sign on a door
at the community college
and I didn't know what a panic bar was
but went through that door
every Tuesday & Thursday
to be in class.

One thing is for sure
that I actually feel better
knowing where the panic bar is
whether or not it is disabled.

And finally knowing where
the original losing-it took place.

Day 11: Please crack my back

2009-04-11T12:26:00.000-07:00

As a girl I would twist round and round
in the swing until the chains wound too tight
to twist any more.

Then let go.
And repeat until I was sick.

What is it about making ourselves sick.

On a day like today, I find myself
twisting my torso and bobbling my head
until I hear crackles -
to one side, now other side
let go, repeat.
I sway this kind-of dance
and wish someone would step in.

Day 10: How to un-inform your self, Final attempt

2009-04-10T22:26:00.000-07:00

When you have tried to contain it
or destroy it
with
water or air
metal
earth and stone

when you have tried everything else
shout it into your pillow
and take a sleeping pill.

Day 9: Things I tell myself when I eat apples

2009-04-09T23:59:00.000-07:00

I do not believe in the necessity
of breaking teeth to eat an apple.
Only in the necessity of breaking skin.

There also cannot be one true way
to eat the apple. Or to share it.
But I'll say it again, the skin must break
(even if the skin itself is not eaten).
But there is no need to scrape your gums on it,
or break your jaw. And if you are peeling
or slicing it, be careful with that knife.

Do you hear me? You don't have to hurt yourself
to eat that apple. You don't have to eat the skin
or seeds
or stem
or bruises.
God, you don't even have to eat
this apple.

Day 8: Tree fixation

2009-04-08T23:30:00.000-07:00

I am doing research.
It involves fidgeting with a camera
and sometimes a pencil.
Also, it requires strict observance
of any and all surroundings.

But there is required some
mind wandering embroidery,
some imagining where I might push the needle
with black thread or gray on linen, stitch by
stitch the shape
of the trees
themselves
without
these
paternal
leaves.

Day 7: Regarding my possessions

2009-04-07T23:56:00.000-07:00

Take the dresser for instance
the one we got from his grandma
and when it was delivered
it was the wrong one—the flimsier one
some of drawers barely holding on
to their glue at the seams
so that soon the middle one finally broke
and I used the front piece and some hinges
to make it into a secret cupboard
that stays closed with a magnet
(oh, my poor craftsmanship)
which is where I keep the happy birthday music box,
my hats, orange handbag and a green one,
a box of pretty game pieces,
a chinese jumprope, a tea towel,
and a picture of me ready for prom.

This is where I start to give things away.

Day 6: Getting a man

2009-04-06T23:58:00.000-07:00

I don't remember how long ago I read it
probably in a teen magazine
that if you have a mole on your left breast
you can have any man you want

When I discovered mine
I tried to cut it off
because I thought it was cancer
but just ended up pinching it

Next thing you know
I'm engaged

Day 5: Losing the Self-conscious Peel

2009-04-05T23:53:00.000-07:00

Leaving it behind in a bowl
was intentional.

Tired arms,
newness.

But I know about these things.
How they grow back.

Right now
though,

This is really what I
am.

Day 4: How to un-inform your self, 2nd attempt

2009-04-04T23:20:00.000-07:00

Try this
use breath-language
and blow it into a balloon
or several—
however many you need

Then you need to
tie them to an astronaut suit
just as they are packing the shuttle

Just make sure
and get that astronaut
to release them at zero gravity

Day 3: What I will take with me when I move across the country

2009-04-03T23:26:00.000-07:00

one tree
with or without leaves

a breakfast
with grapefruit

a bit of softness
in my hips and back

a marble collection
in a glass jar

and the sewing machine

Day 2: How to un-inform your self

2009-04-02T23:25:00.001-07:00

If you know something and
aren't supposed to know it
or it is very hard to know
then there is a trick that you must learn
and I don't know what it is called
but it is something like canning

What you do is you get the something
into a can by saying that
it's for its own good
and promise to get it out when you most need it
and then you seal it
at the drypack cannery

with no label
so that it is un-visible
and no longer accessible for
anyone without the right tool
but especially you

You would think that the best thing to do with the can
is mail it away or hide it in the basement with the food storage
but really the trick is not to bury it in the garden

What you have to do
because it will try to be remembered and
be heard is you must
turn it upside down and force
another noise out of the can

It needs to ring out something loud and
obnoxious
but repetitive
so there is only the din of
its being dented

That is what you must do

Day 1: Concerned about things

2009-04-01T21:30:00.000-07:00

About the shape my pillow takes
when it is not new anymore when
I have molded it for good
with compulsive structured sleeping habits.

About the scent my hair leaves
on the pillow over and over
so I smell it every night
before I put my head there.

About the vulnerability of my armpits
and leaving them exposed
to the sleep gods or whatever
so I keep my arms tight at my sides.

And about being awake
when no one else is awake which means
I must take it back
by going to sleep when they are all awake.

New Round of Daily Poems

2009-03-31T12:51:00.000-07:00

It's national poetry month starting tomorrow. I decided it's time for a writing binge. My goal is to write a poem a day for the month of April. Some of them will stink. Some of them will have potential. They will be very new and raw. So I'm really baring all here. Instead of posting prompts like last time, I'll just be posting my daily poem. This will not be easy. Should you be feeling brave and unselfconscious, should you feel so inclined, motivated, or inspired:

I INVITE YOU TO WRITE WITH ME!

Just put it in the comments. Or, you can give me and the other poetry writers feedback on our poems. And if you need ideas, you can always go back through the prompt posts below from December 2007.

Day 31: Resolution

2007-12-31T12:26:00.000-08:00

I'm constantly inspired by people who are really good at one thing in particular. I consider myself a kind of dabbler in many things, but not really great at any of them. And I think it's mostly because I'm lazy. And afraid. Afraid, because what if I try really hard—give something all my (extra) devotion and energy, and then I am still not that good at it. And lazy, because I get bored with hard work and distracted by any un-started, more exciting projects.

In particular, I'm totally inspired by the two women who collaborate on the photoblog 3191. They both take a photo every day and post it. For a whole year. And they are simple photos. Especially beautiful when posted as pairs. But they do it every (week)day. I don't usually make resolutions, but I'll try one: to write every day for a year. At least a little. Whether it's a poem, a free-write session (I like to turn off my computer screen for those), a short journal entry, a blog post...I just want to make sure it happens every day. And since I haven't posted poems on all 31 days of these postcard poems, some of that writing will be showing up on the posts I missed.

Do you have a writing resolution?

Day 30: Credit where it's due

2007-12-30T18:26:00.000-08:00

Most of my ideas for these writing prompts were inspired by, derived from, or directly pulled from a fantastic book by Barbara Drake called Writing Poetry. Others are ideas from writing classes I've taken and the rest are just from reading really good poetry. Thanks for joining in, and feel free to come back and post revisions of your poems or else new poems for those days you missed. I know I'll be making those up. Thanks to Deborah for motivating me to do this by first of all, having the idea, and also by the sheer momentum of her enthusiasm.

Day 29: Experimental poets

2007-12-29T08:25:00.000-08:00

I could go on and on about how much I got out of the writing class I mentioned yesterday. Not only was my instructor an accomplished poet herself, but she introduced me to so many interesting writers.

Anne Carson has an amazing book, The Beauty of the Husband, where (if I remember correctly) she intimately and cleverly incorporates scientific knowledge and vocabulary into her poems. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I even think she invented the "tango" poetic form in this book.

Alice Notley does interesting things with punctuation in her book, The Descent of Alette. She explains her technique in the author's note: "A word about the quotation marks...they're there, mostly, to measure the poem. The phrases they enclose are poetic feet. If I had simply left white spaces between the phrases, the phrases would be rushed by the reader.... They also distance the narrative from myself, the author: I am not Alette. Finally, they may remind the reader that each phrase is a thing said by a voice: this is not a thought...this is a story, told." If you want to see how it looks on the page, you can search inside at amazon's site.

So, don't be afraid to try something new and bizarre.

Day 28: Donald Revell

2007-12-28T10:04:00.000-08:00

I was introduced to Donald Revell, among other amazing poets, in a class at a local community college. My instructor was Michelle Mitchell-Foust (author of the ghazal example on Day 26). Here's one of my favorites (& I seem to imagine it scrawled on a postcard) from his book, Arcady.

Tooms I

I am really healthy hurry
So we can wag

I've had a molar removed
I've listened to Chevalier
Even plaster has something to say
On the radio I have not
Been blinded by anything yet
But beauty & sunshine

Beauty here & there
Have you heard
Is my scrap heap
Made of sunshine
Have you heard let me say

I liked the pictures esp. the one with the hat
& the frame is beautiful

Day 27: Found poetry

2007-12-27T09:24:00.000-08:00

Found poems are constructions. Experiment with found poetry. Look for a passage in a newspaper, advertisement, old textbook, history, medical manual, etc. Arrange the words in lines to bring out some non-evident quality. Remember, by taking the words out of their original context, you change the way we see them.

Or, cut out words from a magazine and separate them into bags: adjectives, adverbs, nouns, verbs…etc. and make a collage poem (or, if you already have a version of magnetic poetry, use that).

Genuine Poem,
Found on a Blackboard
in a Bowling Alley
in Story City, Iowa

If you strike
when head pin
is red pin,
one free game
to each line.
Notify desk
before you throw
if head pin
is red

by Ted Kooser

Day 26: Ghazal

2007-12-26T13:33:00.000-08:00

Write a ghazal. You can utilize the traditions behind the form (see wiki article), or not. In this case, true form would be anywhere from 5 to 12 free-verse couplets—and that's it. An example:

Migraine Ghazal

A child walking home has her first.
The noon hysteria of dandelions

moves to its home behind one eye.
Noon becomes a snow patch.

Noon anesthetizes her, loosening
her hold on the school book.

Then there are hundreds of flowers
in her head, all the same color,

blooming to escape the snow,
threatening to bloom repeatedly there.

From Michelle Mitchell-Foust's Imago Mundi.

Day 25: Gift

2007-12-25T17:35:00.000-08:00

Make this poem a gift. Send it on a real postcard to someone far away.

Day 24: Constructing memories

2007-12-24T17:22:00.000-08:00

Write a poem in which you remember something that never happened. Or, construct a memory—that may or may not be grounded in true events—from a photograph. Use strong sensory images to convince the reader it really happened. Maybe use foods, smells or sounds to make it seem more real.

Day 23: Humor

2007-12-23T18:21:00.000-08:00

Ogden Nash, whose work I love as much now as I did when I was a four-year-old, was a genius at humorous verse. I still worship his Tale of Custard the Dragon from when I was tiny, and added it to my children's library last year. You have probably heard his brilliant and ironic wit all over the place without knowing it. Gene Wilder quotes him in the clever 1971 film Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (Candy / Is dandy / But liquor / Is quicker). And many of his poems are perfect postcard length. Here's one below, but go ahead and browse some more. They're delightful.

The Ostrich

The ostrich roams the great Sahara.
Its mouth is wide, its neck is narra.
It has such long and lofty legs,
I'm glad it sits to lay its eggs.

Day 22: Borrowing from favorites

2007-12-22T19:42:00.000-08:00

Think of your favorite poem by your favorite poet. Write a poem in which you include a phrase or line from that poem, worked into some different but related context.

I might use a line from this one by Sylvia Plath:

Morning Song

Love set you going like a fat gold watch.
The midwife slapped your footsoles, and your bald cry
Took its place among the elements.

Our voices echo, magnifying your arrival. New statue.
In a drafty museum, your nakedness
Shadows our safety. We stand round blankly as walls.

I'm no more your mother
Than the cloud that distills a mirror to reflect its own slow
Effacement at the wind's hand.

All night your moth-breath
Flickers among the flat pink roses. I wake to listen:
A far sea moves in my ear.

One cry, and I stumble from bed, cow-heavy and floral
In my Victorian nightgown.
Your mouth opens clean as a cat's. The window square

Whitens and swallows its dull stars. And now you try
Your handful of notes;
The clear vowels rise like balloons.

Day 21: Daily rituals

2007-12-21T19:57:00.000-08:00

Think of something you do daily that switches your autopilot on, or else something you find boring or even unpleasant. Think of all the aspects, actions, and movements it requires. Then make it seem like a sort of sacred, spiritual ritual by how you describe it in your poem. Use all your senses.

Day 20: NOT about the event

2007-12-20T07:23:00.000-08:00

Here's an assignment I loved from a writing class a few years ago: write a poem about a significant event or moment in your life, BUT ONLY write about things surrounding the event. This could mean the environment, setting, place, time, sensory information, other movements or goings-on...just background stuff. But don't reveal the actual event. That said, let your writing take you where it wants to go. If it decides to go there, then I won't condemn you. This is what I wrote then:

Surrounding

The baby was sleeping in my arms
so I had to put him down--
it only hurts when the milk comes in
or if I hold him too long.

It doesn't rain much
but it was pouring.

I had to put the book down too,
binding open,
so I wouldn't lose my place
or my temper.
I'm not sure it worked.

An afternoon downpour.

There was a pumpkin in the kitchen
and bad lighting
but the dishes were clean.

2004

Day 19: Ekphrasis

2007-12-19T09:26:00.000-08:00

Try some ekphrasis. Don't be intimidated by that word if it's new or strange to you. All you do is choose a visual art piece: photo, drawing, painting, sculpture, collage...and write about it, write a response to it, or write what it reminds you of. Create some of your own meaning from the piece of art in the form of a poem.

Here's one example where the poem references more than one work of art (though I did choose one painting to pair it with):

A Poem is a Painting

A poem is a painting that is not seen;
A painting is a poem that is not heard.

That's what poetry is--
a painting in the mind.
Without palette and brush
it mixes words into images.
The mind's edge sharpens the knife
slashing the canvas with savage rocks,
twisting trees and limbs into tortuous shapes
as Van Gogh did,
or bewitched by movement's grace,
captures the opalescent skirts
of Degas' ballet dancers.

But words on the page
as paint on canvas
are fixed.
It's in the spaces between
the poem is quickened.

By Phoebe Hesketh, from The Leave Train: New and Selected Poems.

* * *

One I wrote years ago on a particular painting:

“The Voice” by Edvard Munch

Straight trees with silent shapes beyond them
showing moon on water. But the girl
There’s always the girl in her white dress
hands primly clasped behind
And her face. She seems to lean forward at the waist
as if to tell us some piece of gossip.
But her lips are missing.

She’s listening, leaning to hear us.
We imagine a sound, a scrap of memory,
and put it in her strain of a mouth.
Maybe the voice of someone we know,
grandfather as he reads us poetry
in a warm evening house under the lamp,
or the whisper in our ear
that comes with a kiss,
or a speech from the narrator who played
Elizabeth in the film we saw last year.

1998

And just for fun, here's a little post I wrote last year on my personal history with ekphrasis. And click here for a poem I wrote about an imaginary painting. Remember, it doesn't have to be painting. Use any visual art. Keats wrote this one about a piece of pottery.

Day 18: Haiku

2007-12-18T13:18:00.001-08:00

It's always fun to try a hand at something so small, I think. While the true haiku is something I don't claim to fully understand, I like adopting and adapting traditional poetic forms, even if I only know little of their backgrounds, just to get creativity flowing. That's the great thing about poetry—all the poetic liberties!

I am drawn to a part in the Wikipedia article that talks about how American poets adopted the haiku—Beats and Imagists, among others (scroll down to the "The budding of American haiku" heading).

If you have a minute, browse a bit here or here. And if you know of other cool haiku sites, please share them!

Day 17: Animals

2007-12-17T11:02:00.000-08:00

Choose an animal. Write a poem where you describe the animal in an unusual way. Or, write a poem where you become the animal. One of my favorite poets, Mary Oliver, has a million amazing animal poems.

Honey at the Table

It fills you with the soft
essence of vanished flowers, it becomes
a trickle sharp as a hair that you follow
from the honey pot over the table

and out the door and over the ground,
and all the while it thickens,

grows deeper and wilder, edged
with pine boughs and wet boulders,
pawprints of bobcat and bear, until

deep in the forest you
shuffle up some tree, you rip the bark,

you float into and swallow the dripping combs,
bits of the tree, crushed bees - - - a taste
composed of everything lost, in which everything lost is found.

~Mary Oliver

And though they are not usually postcard length, I am also a sucker for Elizabeth Bishop's animal encounters. Here's one I love about a moose.

Day 16: Going back

2007-12-16T11:54:00.000-08:00

Hello everyone who is participating or wanting to participate: I was talking to a friend of mine who was saying she'd like to go back and post poems on past prompts sometime. I think this is a great idea, being's how I have missed a number of days myself. The more poems, the merrier. So, even if you have missed a day or a few, or even all the days, even if it's not even December anymore, that shouldn't stop you from posting poems for past dates.

And don't forget one for today, too!

Day 15: Words, words, words

2007-12-15T10:31:00.000-08:00

Choose a word, any word. Do a free write on it to generate ideas. Then turn your free-write into a poem.

Day 14: A note to you

2007-12-14T09:45:00.001-08:00

Try writing a poem in the persona of someone you know, addressing you.

Day 13: Enjambment

2007-12-13T11:05:00.000-08:00

Try using enjambment as a structural element. Write a poem that is all one sentence, or a poem that gives a feeling of rushing or excitement. Or use enjambment in a first-person poem to give the speaker’s monologue a headlong feeling. An example by e. e. cummings:

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

Day 12: Prose poem

2007-12-12T08:57:00.000-08:00

Try writing a prose poem or describing something ordinary in a new way. Here's an example by poet Vern Rutsala:

Sleeping

Though winners are rarely declared this is an arduous contest similar, some feel, to boxing. This fact can be readily corroborated by simply looking at people who have just awakened. Look at their red and puffy eyes, the dishevelled hair, the slow sore movements, and their generally dazed appearance. Occasionally, as well, there are those deep scars running across their cheeks. Clearly, if appearances don't lie, they have been engaged in some damaging and dangerous activity and furthermore have come out the losers. If it's not dangerous—and you still have doubts—why to we hear so often the phrase, He died in his sleep?

Day 11: Juxtaposing images

2007-12-11T08:44:00.001-08:00

In a Station at the Metro

The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough.

by Ezra Pound, perhaps the original imagist poet. Read more about the poem here.

Day 10: Poetry websites

2007-12-10T08:47:00.000-08:00

Just a few sites I've come across that involve the poetry of more than one author/blogger. You may want to check them out.

**Poetry Thursday (which is no longer running, but you can browse the site anyway.)

**Poetry Soup

**And also, on the Exponent II blog list of links is Popcorn Popping, which has many genres of creative submissions, but you can submit a poem and hopefully they will post it so you can get feedback from (more serious) writers.

Day 9: Myths and fairy tales

2007-12-09T08:17:00.000-08:00

Write a reinvention or retelling of a traditional myth or fairy tale.

Day 8: Object fetish

2007-12-08T11:39:00.000-08:00

Choose a small object or entity for close observation. Give it your closest attention. Describe in writing all your sensory impressions of this object and craft it into a poem. You may want to generalize from your specific, concrete images to some meaning drawn from your observations. Or compare it to something very large.

Day 7: Memory

2007-12-07T08:17:00.000-08:00

Thank you: A big hooray to everyone who has been/is participating! I love looking through your poems each day, even though I haven't commented on them. It's so great that you're sharing. Thanks a hundred times!

Prompt: Think of the kids you knew in your first grade (or second, third...it all depends on what kind of memory you have) class and write something about one of them. Kudos to you if you even remember names.

Day 6: Maybe the first ever postcard poem*

2007-12-06T07:19:00.000-08:00

This Is Just to Say

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold

by William Carlos Williams

*Make your postcard poem for today an actual note to someone.

Day 5: Acrostics

2007-12-05T09:01:00.000-08:00

Try writing an acrostic poem. Have the first letter of each line spell out the name of a person, place, or symbolic object.

Day 4: Billy Collins, animated

2007-12-04T08:14:00.000-08:00

I love Billy Collins' poetry. And experiencing his poetry goes to a whole other level when you can watch how different animation artists have interpreted or enhanced some of his poems. You can see more videos here (don't miss "Some Days," it's a favorite of mine). I love how these animations bring out different things in the words. Be inspired. Enjoy.

{Forgetfulness}

{The Dead}

Day 3: Where you carry them

2007-12-03T08:17:00.000-08:00

Jana sent this poem to me a couple of weeks ago (thanks, Jana!). I love the feelings and images it conjures. Write a poem about where you carry your words or poems. Or, write about something else you always carry with you.

Day 2: Music as inspiration

2007-12-02T07:51:00.000-08:00

Choose a song, performer, or band that you love to listen to and let the music (and perhaps lyrics) inspire your poem today.

Day 1

2007-12-01T09:49:00.000-08:00

Poetry

I, too, dislike it.
Reading it, however, with a perfect contempt for it, one dis-
covers in
it, after all, a place for the genuine.

by Marianne Moore

{Read the first (original, long) version here.}

It's all starting tomorrow

2007-11-30T16:11:00.000-08:00

Every day during the month of December, I will make sure there is a post up. This post may contain a writing prompt (for those so inclined to use them), a definition of a poetic format or structure (perhaps with an example), a hello, a quote, or a short, inspirational poem from a favorite poet. The important part is not what's in the post, it's in the comments. YOUR part is to post your flash poetry (playing off the term flash fiction) or short postcard poem, each day, in the comments for that day.

If you join in for the whole month or just part, I don't mind. If you actually post poems as your comments or not, I'm probably not going to say anything—we'll use a really loose definition of what constitutes a poem. So, don't be intimidated, don't be shy, don't worry about writing the best poem ever. We want the good, the bad, the cheesy, the crazy, the meaningless, the simple and the ugly. Let's just have us some poetic fun. Literally.

Look for it

2007-11-19T19:20:00.001-08:00

We'll be starting on Dec. 1st. All are welcome.