Writing 201:P Poetry (last day) Sonnet

Ahh! a day late with this. The last poetry prompt which I should have submitted yesterday is a sonnet on the theme of the future and with the device of  chiasmus. Mmmmm not come across that before. It is where A and B are repeated as B and A. I managed (finally) to get one in!

My sonnet could do with editing probably and the strict iambic pattern isn't true but rules are there to be broken!

I turned to a subject close to my heart. We have to believe in a future for all  mankind.

This is the end of the challenge. It has been interesting and fun. I've learned a few new devices I'd not come across before and I was pleased to see some unusual forms cropping up. However, it was nice to end with an old traditional form, one I've struggled with over the years but have got to rather like.

Making a difference

Sometimes it is hard to see a way through

With all the gloom the media paint us,

Faces sunken as they stare back at you

Bellies swollen, too weak to make a fuss

And pitted buildings, bomb sites once a home

Now broken like those who used to live there

And with what they can carry they leave to roam

Across the dusty earth where some will care

And give them hope to live and live to hope

That one day they’ll be peace but do they dare

To dream somewhere will be theirs upon this globe?

So sign petitions march or send a gift

However small will count, the tide will shift.

Writing 201: Poetry (Day 9) - Found poems

I love writing Found poetry and today the prompt was landscape, found, lists.

I must admit this is rushed. I just grabbed a Winchester Explorer Guide sitting next to me and used that. If I had more time I would do something a bit more adventurous and use more than one source. I remember doing one for The Poetry School but I think there were other restrictions to the form. I can't remember what they were. Anyway, I'll return to found poems in the future because I love having a go and creating odd pieces of poetry, something a bit wacky from lines/words picked out of magazines and rearranged.

Winchester

Unspoilt, one hour from London,

the freshness, beauty –

see it – manual and powered

wheelchairs available;

maps, walking guides,

major sites,

highlights – the seat of King Arthur,

the Cathedral,

England as it ought to be,

don’t take our word for it,

enjoy for a snapshot,

silver discs, follow the footsteps -

welcome vibrant explorer.

Writing 201: Day 8 - Ode

Day 8 poetry prompt is Ode-Drawer-Apostrophe. I guess my poem is an ode of sorts and it is about an object in a drawer and the poem speaks to another person. So I think I have all the ingredients. Written in a short space of time I hope it hits the right note:

Go Sew!

I see you have found it nestled between hankies and scarves,

the small round tin, smooth edged, tactile.

It fits in the hand like a stress ball, turning, turning,

fit for purpose, easy to slip into handbag or case.

And just in case you need it I will give it to you;

maybe you will use it for I never have

just opened the lid to look in, finger the contents

and re-live the horror of needlework lessons in school.

The yellow paper tape measure has never been unfolded,

the needles are still shiny new and sharp,

the tiny buttons that probably don’t go with anything

are still affixed to the see-through plastic sleeve.

I replace the lid. The tin is black like the mood that came

over me in lessons. I don’t know why I kept it. I had others

equally unused but I liked its compactness, a ‘ready-to-

travel’ helper which never went anywhere.

So, take it, my friend and get some use out of it,

give it a good home, one where it will be loved,

its contents opened, cotton unraveled from the grey

cardboard holder, pins pinned and needles threaded. 

Writing: 201- Day 7 - Prose poem

I took a day off from poetry yesterday. The prompt did not inspire me but today I have tackled the prose poem using assonance and on the theme of 'fingers'. In my case it's just the one finger and more about what is on it.

This poem had it's beginnings elsewhere, another much shorter version exists. In this version I have taken the theme and expanded it to incorporate more and likened the two rings sitting together reacting like mother and daughters often do! I think this is the first prose poem I have ever written. I'm still not sure about it. I found it hard not to break it up into lines and stanzas. Let me know what you think.

The Ring

I twist the gold band feeling your essence when only warmth remains after a fire has died. I wear it next to my own wedding ring. They sing in unison recognising each other. This is all I have now. This and the memories, a wardrobe full of clothes, an album full of photos and I cling to them like an abandoned child for I am an orphan now.

Some days later my finger rejects the ring. The flesh swells as the two gold bands rub and snub each other just as we did in those falling out days, in the silences and the cheap flung words meant to hurt. Now I clutch at your remaining blouses and skirts, reluctant to part with every bit of you, fingering broaches and necklaces, remembering the lipsticks you bought in reckless moments when you were down.

I lay your wedding band aside as I fold your life into bin bags. I take what I can even the earrings I will never wear. I cannot bear to dispose of you like this. I grab the ring and place it back on my finger. It nestles close to mine. Whatever we have been through our bond glues us together. In the years that will follow I become stronger than you could ever know. But I don’t know that now. I only long for you. The moment I wake, after that second before I remember, the ache grinds into me.

Writing 201: Day 4

Today I have been working on a Elegy on the theme of fog. I'm not sure what I have written quite works. Maybe there is too much tied up in it. I believe there may be a stress pattern to elegies but I always abuse those! I use my ear to hear how lines work but mix it up. The prompt looked a metaphor. I use metaphor quite a lot but I don't think there is one in my poem as such this time. I struggled for inspiration with this and I'm not that happy with the result. Maybe one day I'll take it apart and re-write it in a different form. I looked at not having end rhymes but they seemed to naturally want to be written that way. So here is my flimsy effort for today:

Fog

Boundaries shift losing their edges

Eyes strain to see ahead

All points of reference disappear

Under a smoky bed.

Movement slows, cars are nose to tail

Break lights blink off and on

Headlights beam as if they’re searching

Sucked in trails, there, then gone.

All is grey, swirling dense and cloying

Changing whole perspectives

Horns beep out in great frustration

The fog ignores and drifts.

Nothing looks the same anymore

Blind is the traveller now

All reason and logic come undone

This is nature’s power.

Our instincts for time and space is lost

With ancestors long gone

Clocks and technology run our lives

Without them we are done.

Man made machines point the way for us

Our brains are dull as fog

Hooked and wired to get our daily dose

Just another dim cog.

Take away the safety nets and breathe

Find your natural rhythm

Nature gave you all you’d ever need

Become nature driven.

Undo the restraints that keep you bound

This life belongs to you

But only you can change the pathway

Do what you need to do.

Second thoughts on concrete poem

On second thoughts I did this:

Well, it's close!

Writing 201: Poetry (day 4)

The prompt from Writing 201 has got me this time. The object of today's poem is an animal written in the 'concrete form' using enjambment. I have already spend too long on this today and basically have given up!

Concrete poems are basically a picture poem, the words are set out in the form of the object they are portraying. I have done this once before using the Christmas tree as my concrete form and it worked really well. But this time I'm stuck. I found a poem written many years ago which I edited a little about a pet my kids had but forming this into a picture proved impossible. I tried an outline of the critter, then the wheel it used and back again to the outline. It was awful and unrecognizable as anything! So my poem isn't a concrete poem but it is about an animal and has enjambment. Two out of three can't be bad!

Chelsea

There is silence now.

I look across at the empty cage

washed clean, packed, ready

to be stored

and I expect to see her

rampaging from food to drink,

her marble grey fur sleek

against her tiny form.

I still listen for the clatter-

clatter of the exercise wheel

in the night but the life

of a Russian Dwarf hamster

is short and now all is quiet.

Writing 201: Day 3

Feeling a bit more with it today for writing. The prompt for today caused me to sigh - acrostic. I do struggle with those. Still it turned out better and more inspirational than the limerick yesterday! There were three elements to this one as well:

Trust (theme) – acrostic – internal rhyme. Oh joy. My mind went into overdrive and to tackle it I needed a title. I rarely have titles for my poems until the end and even then I struggle! But I needed something to work with and then commandeered the Thesaurus!

Strangely (or not you might say after reading it) this poem was written quickly. There was a line I didn't like but changing a word, which was always the one used for the internal rhyme, I had to change another! This happened three times as I sought words that I felt worked better. For a poem that took perhaps half an hour to write, maybe a little more, I am pleased with the way it turned out.

Reasonable Doubt

Right from the start you had the art of pulling me in

Easing your way through layers of brick and cement

Able to split the cracks, pouring in charm by the sack full,

Seasoned with laughter and promises of ever after.

Overtures thundered through me yet even as hope wondered

Naivety never consumed me; I knew what was at stake

And still let you breeze in so much did I want to believe.

But base instinct had me mentally re-erecting the walls

Long before the door shut on your retreating back

Ego still intact, me on the attack, filling in the blessed cracks.

Doubtless you are still being careless with your love,

Omitting to say that this is a carefree game you play.

Unfaithful hearts will break and yours is damn near fake.

Bewitch and beguile while you can, it won’t last,

Taste the pleasure now for pain will possess you at its leisure.

Writing 201 (Journey - Limerick) Day 2

Trying to catch up with myself here. Not on top form as I have a cold hanging in the wings so I feel tired.

So Limericks - not my favourite poetry form! But day 2 of prompts was to write a limerick with the idea of journey. I did my usual thing of skim reading and proceeded to write a limerick having not read the theme. So I had to start again! Not sure if this really works but here goes:

Brighton’s the best place for me

Long, lanes of shops and there’s sea

There’s a pier and the fun fair

In an hour I can get there

By train, it’s the in place to be.

Writing 201 - day 1

I have signed up for Writing 201: Poetry from Wordpress which gives daily prompts. There is a badge I should be able to put on my blog but it comes out too big so I've taken it off. Wordpress and Blogger aren't very compatible so I guess that's the reason. If anyone has any thoughts on this do let me know.

Anyway the prompt for yesterday (I'm a day behind because I was out all day) was to write a Haiku on the theme of water. Here is it:

Frenzied waterfall

Like curtain folds draped skew-whiff

White water rafting.