"Advice for the Revolution"
By Erin Carlson
Today I skipped the prompt and did a blackout poem inspired by these lovely poems here.
"Advice for the Revolution"
I kept talking
not bothering to plug my mouth
and dance around the awkward
like you wanted me to
and I kept talking
and for once
I wasn’t uncomfortable
it was delightful
to be so very very
Today’s prompt came from my lovely sister. We wrote False Apology poems. She was inspired by the book “Forgive Me, I Meant To Do It” by Gail Carson Levine which is a series of false apology poems from fairy tales. False apology poems are styled after William Carlos Williams’ “This is Just to Say” which you can read here.
Start with a granola base,
the vanilla raspberry kind,
because it is the best.
(Not too sweet,
plus a little kick
in the freeze dried fruit)
Pour it in a small bowl.
(Brightly colored is best,
especially on rainy days,
when the sun can’t be found.)
Mix in the extras:
(As inspired by missing roommates)
(for a taste of holiday)
(because they remind you of oatmeal
and long lasting breakfast cheer)
(to vary the texture.)
if it’s a lonely day,
a handful of chocolate chips
(to honor of sisters with good ideas) .
To finish you must choose with care:
yogurt makes for slower eating
(so the memories last longer),
and milk makes everything float
(except the chocolate chips,
which sink to the bottom
so you eat them all last).
Your finished bowl of nostalgia
will hold you over ‘till noon.*
*It is recommended to supplement
your noontime meal with cheese.
It will help your body retain
the happiness nutrients
absorbed during breakfast.
Todays prompt was from my sister, who is my NaPoWriMo writing buddy. She recommended that I write a recipe poem, a poem form she made up that mixes cooking instructions with metaphors and reflection.
The star canvas was covered,
shrouded by rain storehouses
ready to release their bounty.
I did not mourn too deeply
for my hidden sky glitter,
comforted by sounds of
cloud bounty splattering
against the concrete paths.
I had endured too many moon cycles
of crystallized rain blowing
and icy cloud’s breath flowing
to not rejoice at dreaming
to the murmurs of cloud bounty.
The prompt was to write a poem using kennings. Kennings were metaphorical phrases developed in Nordic sagas. At their simplest, they generally consist of two nouns joined together, which imaginatively describe or name a third thing. The phrase “whale road,” for example, could be used instead of “sea” or “ocean,” and “sky candle” could be used for “sun.”
You reside in my chest
expanding in time with my heartbeat
and drawing the world in through my mouth
down into my blood.
It is so easy to forget about you
until my blood fills with sickness,
and your corridors get so clogged
my breathing stumbles over itself
and I finally notice how much I miss you.
But oh how alive I feel
when you expand to full capacity,
no longer hindered by the doldrums of sickness.
Deep breaths making me dance faster
my heart beat truer
and my mind see clearer,
all reminding me that I am alive.
And life is good.
The prompt was to pick a tangible noun (like “door” or “beer”) and an intangible noun (like “sorrow” or “memories”) Using the sentences you found by Googling the tangible noun you were to write a poem by replacing the original noun with its intangible partner.
I chose instead to write a poem about my tangible noun, lungs, and then replace it with my intangible noun at the end. It was a bit more fun that way.
I sleep amidst stars tonight,
the small plastic patches
splattered across the wall,
glowing to guide in sweet dreams.
My glow stars are a special kind of magic,
that takes simple sturdy walls
and turns them into the infinity of space,
shifting the room from a cage
to the warm hug of a star filled sky.
I ain’t got no answer for
how to grow a woman from the ground,
but I know she needs deep roots.
Bring on the rain,
so her roots are fed,
and her branches learn
to dance in the wind
but not break.
Plant her feet in the mud,
and let her extend out,
roots spreading wide
until she is hand in hand with her neighbors,
their roots stay tangled in the ground.
Then, as the storms come,
they can sway together in the wind.
Another poem inspired by a set of song titles. Because I was inspired by my sister :)
The Chronological Responses of Giovanni Schnarkles to Being Dumped for His Younger Brother at The Only Bowling Alley for One Hundred Miles.
- The hazards of love 3 (Revenge!)
- This is not a test of familial love.
- What is better than revenge?
- I could run away.
- The city!
Today’s prompt was to put itunes on shuffle and then use the titles of the first 5 songs to write a poem. This is mine. It is also fir Lindsey.
I’ll stumble into them
as walk ‘round corners
and look up from the pavement.
Quirks of lines and light
so perfectly framed my mind flashes to
aperture settings, shutter speeds,
and how to MacGyver a tripod
before I remember I have no camera.
I’m left standing there at a loss,
not ready to leave the moment,
but having no way to capture it
other then standing very still
and pleading with my brain
to remember all the details
of how the light hits just so
to make the colors shine
and the lines pop
and my heart skip a beat.
- Erin Carlson
Mom looked out the window
and said the neighbor girls were
running around the blacktop
in tutus and boots.
I rushed to the window to see them,
because tutus and boots
tutus and boots!
Could it get any better?
But the girls had moved
leaving the parking lot behind
to visit the river.
I thought of them all afternoon.
Did the tutus have sparkles?
Were they purple? Rumpled? Short?
Were they rain boots or cowboy boots?
I won’t ever know.
But I like to imagine them,
running ‘cross the blacktop
in sparkly rainbow tutus.
One with yellow rain boots
tall enough almost reach her knees,
and the other in red cowgirls boots,
toes slightly scuffed from dancing.
By Erin Carlson