I thought it would be a great idea to have a lot of poets who may not know each other (or have not met in real life) to write a poem based on the same “assignment.” I like the idea of poets across the world writing a poem based on the same assignment. What intrigues me is how different the response will be from each person. Simple yet fascinating. If you want to do this, read on.
The assignment is to identify those themes, imagery, elements, phenomena that reappear in your life and/or dreams and/or writing. For instance, maybe you have a lot of moons in your poems. Maybe you think a lot about cars, sex, ponds, feet, fabric, etc. Whatever it is, let this guide you to write the poem. Use the “thing” as your title.
The poem is due one week from today. Please post a comment if you plan to play and definitely come back to post your poem or, if you don’t want to post the poem, to let us know you participated.
Thanks to Dana Roeser for this assignment idea. I think it’s such a good one; it’s interesting and leaves room for the mind to roam wild.
{ 32 comments… read them below or add one }
I’ll play! Good motivation.
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I need this. I’m in for sure.
Much blood and many other strange materials forthcoming,
Mary B.
Interesting. A little vague for the engineer-poets in your audience, of course, but worth a shot. I’ll take the plunge.
I’ll try.
You’ve given us a lot of space in this assignment. I’m up for it.
I’ll try this. I need the distraction
I give a very hesitant I’m in! I suppose that exclamation point works against my hesistantcy, but oh well. I’m in, nonetheless.
I’m down.
I’m in, if I can take the time away from moving.
I’ll play too.
This reminds me of how much I miss school and the discipline of an assignment. So yes, I’ll give it a shot.
There’s a theory of thought that all civilization no matter how far a part or different, when given a pencil will draw basically the same thing. When you study art & culture you see the human psyche expresses itself in the same symbols, develops at the same rate. It’s really very interesting though I am probably boring the heck out of you right now. Anyway I am in…
Please come to my poem blog:
http://www.lindsaystarcity.blogspot.com
So I did it…and the poem ended up completely different from my usual style! Here I thought I would end up writing the same poem I’ve been trying to write for the past few years, but I actually ended up with something *gasp* humorous, in long couplets.
Reverse psychology, perhaps? Thanks for the assignment!
Mary– You’re welcome! That’s great news! I wrote a poem that ended up being a little funny and it completely shocked me. It wasn’t the poem for this assignment, but it was such a surprise that I had to mention it.
–dba
David — That’s a funny comment to me, because I have several engineers in my life and I could see them saying the same thing.
Early Hours– Your comment intrigued me. It touches on something I want to write about and something I might write about this coming week.
–dba
I’ll give it a shot, Deborah. Thanks for posting the idea!
I will play–and I have about half of it done.
Thanks for the writing prompt. So this poem is due on Friday?
Being a rule-follower first and an artist second (Ref: engineer comment somewhere above), I’ve posted my draft (Or was it supposed to be posted here? Or as comment to a later post? Ach! Vagueries!) in rough compliance with the deadline. Extend “rough” to include the quality of the draft, as well.
I’ve posted mine.
I’m late, but I’m in.
Kel
The poem is posted Thanks for the assignment.
cool. i’ll play.
Hi, David – It was a little vague for me, too, so I must have crossed over into an engineer-poet.
TB: You are always right In the Early Hours of Sky.
Deborah, I wanted to play as soon as I read this when you first posted it, but I couldn’t commit; My Muse is a sassy b*tch. She won’t listen to anything I tell her to do. A trait, my granma always assured me, that would cause me problems all lifelong. But, keep knocking on the blog and something will answer, sometimes it’s Her, in all her monogrammed bath towel splendor.
I’m still not clear if you’d like us to post it here first or on our blogs with a link, or both. Good show for us to post here first, as then you own copyright, which would be cool, o illustrious & fine Editor. But, mine is kinda long, as it should be, since it’s about a childhood literary/weird-mind obssession: Rivers, “Naming Rivers”. Thanks for it!
Here’s the results of the assignment. Thanks.
I’ve tried, but it’s not happening for me. I’m sort of perplexed—I had a difficult time finding recurring things for me (other than the word “birds”) and then couldn’t even write.
I’m in a non-writing phase right now.
Naming Rivers
“… rivers. Someday they will tell me what they want me for.”
~ for Deborah A. & the sufferers of Stan – for the survivors
Rivers will lead me,
singe me with their cold fingers.
Old ground gorges
engorged inside me.
Led to the bank of letting in.
Allowing; or damage:
vast destruction on the last land
before happening. Enter!
The door of the wind opens.
Skies fill up with our heavy sorrowing.
And fall’s fall falls on the quickening
killing everything in touch. Can it be?
Is this thing we call our heart
breaking arterioles black
in the soul? Drowning Democracy
challenges from afar: Save us
now! “Let it wait and it will be
a catastrophe.” And now
they wait, stunned in the freeze,
challenged to survive, gasping
and resting in destiny’s cold delight.
“Come for us, now” We are lonely
while the desperate wait
for a fuller mouth. And the river
of grief churns out another
body of work, vomits out
another school block, coughs
up the spume and stigmata
of a nation divided which will
always be defeated. Let a Negro
speak of rivers. Go tell it on the
Mountain. I have been to the Mountain
top, cherished its rivers
and the sanctuary of selection.
Let nature be not defined.
Sing out against the grief
as we feed amongst the hungry,
while they feed on the hungered
and those, hungry of heart amongst us.
I have touched the black water,
seen the red destiny planted
in a bloodied river, been
the rock stolid against the core.
I have worn, and said, and done
as a Nation — divided, which will never
heal. Take a heart foreign with frieze
and say it: Heart.
Be the engineer,
the Heart Core.
Battle-worn
though
we are –
a river
trickle
you
me
a
.
Done–posted. It’s not as much about kudzu as I thought.
i read your poem which is very nice to read but also i saw several words that are strange to me.iam appreciating you for writing such a poem.
try one of these!
http://thingslovingthings.weebly.com/