I’ll have spotty access to the internet, so I’m writing several posts in advance. I would not want to leave you, dear reader, with an empty blog!
For today, I bring you an E-Prime writing assignment. Write a poem without the verb “to be.”
To make it more interesting, include the name of one architectural detail and (in honor of Annie Dillard’s Tinker Creek) one slightly uncommon insect.
If you are brave, post your result in the comments section and let us see what you created.
{ 4 comments… read them below or add one }
And Now
Rain touches the raw pavement
with dry tears. No bird call
ripples the silence. The moon
a lost shadow, thin-legged,
dog-hungry. The collapse of will
lifts bent arms, Karyatid, locust
of seventeen years, into the vault
of the ransacking night. Train
of morning miles away, the iron
rails, the abandoned ashes of want.
Before dawn, alone in gray drift,
the hardened earth grinds its first word.
I am praising the undesirables:
Two turkey vultures in the walnut tree,
snake doctors over the thick green pond
behind the hill, one bench, weed-covered,
broken on one end – and there’ll be no moon
tonight – but will be June bugs and earwigs,
tomorrow – in the boxwood, a writing spider
that knows my name and will take the time.
Obviously I didn’t follow the rules. Started to, then my hand went a different way. Couldn’t help myself.
Sam — Eh, we’ll forgive you.
Thank you both for being brave enough to share them.