30 Poems in 30 Days

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Today’s exercise, again, comes from Chris Jarmick:

Find four random words and use them in your poem.

Pick up the book you are currently reading, (or the magazine/book near you) and turn to page 101 (or the first page after 101 that has several paragraphs of text). Write down the 20th and 27th word from the top of the page. Then, count back from the last word on the page and write down the 10th and 18th word from the end of the page. (Note: if any of these words are an article like the or and, use the next word.)

These four words MUST be used in the poem you create.

Your poem should have a minimum of 4 lines. It can be much longer than 4 lines if you want.

It took me a few tries to find a book that worked. I kept coming up with words like the and were and isn’t. I would go to the next word (as Chris suggests) and find idea, additionally, in some ways…Finally, in Steward O’Nan’s The Odds, I came up with MAYBE, NUMB, FIREWORKS, and SPUN.

A Spiritual Journey

Maybe it wasn’t my best idea,
leaving the retreat to hike alone,
then missing the labyrinth entirely
and going up the mountain,
into the forest.

A damp day
though the rain had finally stopped.
The big firs wore green gloves
of moss. The forest stream
was skin-numbing cold.

My fall from grace came later,
on the lawn just above the lodge,
almost back for lunch,
almost time to pack the car
and go home.

Wet grass, a slip,
a sound like a twig being snapped
and snapped again. I’ve walked off
twisted ankles before,
no big deal, I would walk off this one, too.

Fireworks at each step.

I never found the labyrinth.
Late that evening, leg propped on pillows,
ice balanced on top,
an exquisite pain. How else
to describe it? Language spiraling

away from me, spinning, spun.

*
By the way, if you want your prompts earlier, Chris posts each on the evening before. I usually read it, make a few notes, and have time for things to compost before I write. He also links to other sites that you can explore.

And as a bonus, click HERE to watch Billy Collins reading “Aimless Love,” the title poem of his new book, and a thing of beauty. Thanks for reading!

 

Princess Angeline

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See http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Princess_Angeline for more information, including her Lushootseed names.

The prompt at  POETRY IS EVERYTHING for April 2 is “write about an event that is newsworthy or historical.” Lesser known — recommended, and within 100 miles of where you reside, at least 100 years ago. I think my attempt stayed in the parameters.

I’ve been reading Short Nights of the Shadow Catcher by Timothy Egan, and so it seemed natural to borrow from the riveting first chapter, and Edward Curtis’s amazing picture of Princess Angeline (1820-1886), daughter of Chief Seattle.  I had this very strong sense of Curtis and Angeline as partners, securing each other’s place in history. Perhaps not so far as Western History would have it (and of course Curtis took many great pictures), but Princess Angeline’s position strikes me as the more fascinating one.  So, my one-bad-poem:

Here’s Edward Curtis hunting Princess Angeline
across the Seattle waterfront, one of those sun shot days
when the sun’s yellow is hammered flat
across the anvil of Puget Sound,
a clank of boat rigging, rumble of tugs.

Here’s Princess Angeline slipping through Curtis’s studio door,
uphill, suspicious, though not wary enough
to keep from pressing her face like paper
onto his lens, calligraphy of lines,
no smile, eyes squinting narrow pits.

A puff of smoke, a change of glass plates.
That flash–Edward Curtis inserting himself into the history books.

Any Excuse to Write

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It’s Poetry Month! I am accepting the challenge to write one-bad-poem a day for 30 days.  Well, the challenge is to write a poem, but calling it “one bad poem” makes me feel better about offering whatever I happen to come up with. If you’d like to play along, you can find prompts all over the Internet. I picked up mine from POETRY IS EVERYTHING. The prompt for today was harlequin. 

You thought the fool a fine tarot for marriage
framed the print to hang in our first kitchen
by then too late for me to read the signs
queen of cups capable of anything as I well knew
hidden the next 30 years. A friend dared me
to have my cards read and I never told you
knowing you would disapprove, would frown and
gyrate, put the red hat on and dance
not like finding the money spent, like even less
my fondness for what you call rubbish
and there’s that fool still presiding in our kitchen
the harlequin nose turned up, jangle
of spangled arms at everything I’m cooking up.

Writing Anyway

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What’s your excuse not to write?

Usually, my excuse is that I’m busy. I have three daughters! I have a mother who needs me, friends who depend on me, a husband who likes to have his share of attention! Shopping to do!

With my ankle broken, all of these excuses have fallen away. Yes, I can still stumble up and down the steps to do laundry. I have one extra kid of late (Annie is home for spring break). I have managed to drive the car (it’s the left ankle) and I even made it to see The Hobbit: Desolation of Smaug at our local discount theatre. But for the most part, for most hours of the day, I’m sitting in this chair or surrounded by books and notebooks on my bed (or napping; I seem to need about twice as much sleep as usual). My excuses are greatly, GREATLY reduced. Most of the time I’m sitting in this chair with my leg propped up, or it’s propped up in my bed, where I’m surrounded by books and notebooks. So, do I write?

What I’ve discovered is that I still have excuses, and that they are specially tailored for this situation. I’m exhausted (what’s with all the napping?) My leg hurts. My 20-year-olds keep invading my space and turning on the television. (Not to mention the novels I read instead of writing…)

Here’s the thing. We all have excuses. All of the time. If we’re lucky, we also have moments of consciousness in which we can make a conscious choice to face our excuses, to let our dreams (mine=writing) be greater than our excuses.

If Bilbo Baggins can face down a dragon, surely you can face down your excuses.

Try to flip it around. Use any excuse TO WRITE.