Tag Archives: writing practice

Day six poem: LexPoMo

LexPoMo2016aThe prompt for today’s poem was “child.”

Reblogged from the Lexington Poetry Month blog.

The magic chef

Sweet Julia, your grand gestures, generous
frame, and ready wit supplied all the diversion
necessary to cover your sleight
of hand: how you poured your secret

heartache into every dish you prepared, each recipe
you tested and perfected, feeding by proxy
whole generations of families you could never
otherwise call your own.

Day five poem: LexPoMo 2016

LexPoMo2016aI took some liberties with today’s prompt (pony tail).

Reblogged from the Lexington Poetry Month blog.

Horse hair

some like the way a mare’s tail
flames behind her as if she sets
the very air on fire when she runs

others fancy how her mane breaks
along the arch of her neck and cascades
over her withers, water spilled on stone

me, I watch the feathered dance of fetlocks
as her feet fly over the earth, shimmy
of lightning to the thunder of her hooves

Day four poem: LexPoMo 2016

Today’s prompt (wire mesh) really gave me some fits, but I suppose if you bat an idea around long enough you can beat something out of it.

Reblogged from the Lexington Poetry Month blog.

Pest control

shimmering chickenwire octagons keep out
chickens and anything larger than a chipmunk
but not the predatory fingers of raccoons
nor chipmunks themselves

leaden hardware cloth squares keep out
the smallest rodents (even chipmunks)
and birds, but not bugs except praying
mantids and probably tarantulas

what’s needed is screening, no longer
made from wire but pressed or extruded
petrol-polysomething, to keep all visible
annoyances at a safe distance

Day three poem, LexPoMo 2016

LexPoMo2016aThe prompt for this poem (pegs) took me in a peculiar direction. I think Adam Bede has spilled over a bit – don’t believe anyone who tells you that what you read (0r watch or listen to) doesn’t affect your thinking.

Reblogged from the Lexington Poetry Month blog.

Gettin’ around

Me old pegs ain’t what they used to be
back when they was gams:

nicely turned, full o’ spring,
and silky soft, like lambs.

Now they’s stiff and barky tough,
with joints what creaks and groans,

but I doesn’t mind it overmuch —
they beats not havin’ none.

Day two poem, LexPoMo 2016

LexPoMo2016aThe prompt for today’s poem was “chocolate muffins.” I’ve not been able to think of a title. Please make your suggestion(s) in the comment section below. Thanks!

Reblogged from the Lexington Poetry Month blog.

Chocolate are the muffins of the mind
moist and dark, rich in alkaloids and caffeine

They rise but do not overflow the cup, an orderly
mountain range in the pan, on the cooling rack

Though lofty in appearance, they are dense
within: fine-textured, firm, and bittersweet

LexPoMo: the sweetest summer fling

LexPoMo2016aToday marks the beginning of Lexington Poetry Month, a love affair with poetry that takes the local writing community by storm every June. People who’ve never written poetry sign up for the LexPoMo Challenge. People who haven’t looked at a poem since grade school go to public readings and open mic nights. It’s a heady madness that catches even bookstores, publishers, coffee shops, and bars in its sweep.

Still riding the momentum from April’s NaPoWriMo success, I’m more excited than ever about this year’s LexPoMo Challenge. For my primary prompt source, I’m using the June writing prompts from South Africa-base Writers Write. The prompt for today’s poem was “chewing gum.”

One-track mind

Chewing gum is more
problematic than it might seem:

what if I need to walk, or juggle
flaming batons, or perform

open heart surgery? Most people
should not be allowed to drive

while chewing gum.

(You can also find this poem on the LexPoMo page at Accents Publishing. You will not find the above logo there, however, as I created it myself. 🙂 )

The merry month of May

A small part of me is relieved to have official respite from the enforced discipline of the NaPoWriMo challenge, but I chiefly feel wistful that this most convenient excuse to put aside things other than writing has come to an end. Now I really do have to address all those deferred duties (ugh!), but I intend to maintain the daily habit of writing.

I will most certainly not post every day, though. It’s great motivation, but it’s not truly sustainable, either for me or for my readers. It stands to reason that I’ll continue to post regularly because I’ll continue to write regularly (this post grew out of my notes and reflections on the month’s activities), just not every day. You’re welcome. [wink]

Besides, I have other things to do during the month of May: welcome my eldest home from college, see my youngest through the end of her school year, teach a writing class (here’s a link if you’re interested), attend family graduation events, and…

…get ready for June, which is Lexington Poetry Month! Yes, my daily writing goal will get a nice boost from my local writing community. I plan to take part in that month-long writing challenge as well as various other poetic activities around town. Information on the 2016 celebration hasn’t been posted, but next week is the release party for the 2015 anthology, & Grace. (I’m ditching a Very Important Board Meeting to attend — shhh, don’t tell anyone!)

Stay tuned!

Prompted poetry: an old photograph

I drafted a couple of poems in response to an actual old photograph on the shelf, but then this popped to mind while I was killing time in a coffee shop. Sometimes it doesn’t pay to be too literal.

Lost and found

He doesn’t recall her
face, even in dreams. Their son brings him
old photographs, but he recognizes
no one, himself least of all.

What he remembers is burying
his face in her hair, the scent
and fall of it, the way his fingers
tangled in the curls.

Prompted poetry: Dear Diary

I tinkered off and on with this prompt through the better part of a day until I thought to follow my own advice. I drew a couple of cards from two of my favorite decks, and the images immediately gave me an idea.

Dear Diary,

Last night I dreamed again I stood among tall firs, perfectly shaped, their branches weighted with snow. The trees covered a steep mountain slope, and through them I glimpsed other slopes and valleys, all blanketed with evergreen and white. My breath hung crisp in the air.

Beneath the heavy thatch of snow, needles living and dead absorbed all sound. I was enchanted; it was so beautiful and still. But a chill began to seep through my clothes, my skin: the silence was too complete. I was utterly alone in an indifferent wilderness.

My pulse throbbed in my ears, and then I noticed another noise, dim and muffled. It was the softest sobbing I have ever known, a weeping beyond all hope of being heard. I woke to find it was me.

Wizards 9 swords

(from Wizard’s Tarot, by Corrine Kenner, illustrated by John J. Blumen; Llewellyn 2011)

Trees 10 pentacles

(from The Tarot of Trees, by Dana Driscoll, 2009)

Prompted poetry: diatribe

February_Writing_Prompts

Observations from the field

buttons and banners, bumpers and yards that sprout
the uncanny side shoots of this strange season

rallies, stumps, town meetings, carefully orchestrated
surprise appearances – the hooting and chest thumping

part of the mating ritual for that bizarre subspecies,
Homo sapiens diatribis, the American politician