Tag: writing prompts

poetry

Is Prose Poetry Actually Cheating?

carolyncordon

Yesterday, for my poem a day (#poemadayfeb), I wrote a prose poem based on the theme of ‘first’. The prose poem flowed, and gained a little bit of attention from other poets, online, which was lovely. I didn’t feel like that prose poem was cheating, because quite a bit of thought went into the writing of it, as it does for more ‘form’ related poetry written.

My poem today though, as soon as I saw the prompt, I felt the urge to make it another prose poem, and the words just flowed, and flowed, with only a bare minimum of editing needed, so it really did feel a little bit like cheating – is poetry supposed to be as easy as just thinking a bit and letting the words flow? Really?

If it is allowed to be that easy, is there truly real merit? But of course, the mind that holds all of the ‘stuff’ that flows onto the page/screen, that mind is working hard at scratching up the relevant bits, and piecing them all together in a harmonious way (I hope that’s how it will seem to others, anyway) …

I certainly enjoyed the writing of this prose poem today, but I suspect tomorrow will bring back my more usual poetic format of writing poems in short lines, either rhyming or not … We’ll see what happens when I see tomorrow’s poetry prompt.

So to today’s poem, as I said, another Prose Poem, a shorter one this time, and one that may not have as much impact as yesterday’s prose poem, we shall see. So here it is:

thinking on too many things perhaps? or just the correct number …

I’m almost shivering on this rain & wind struck day, Summer hiding, as I too hide, from the unseasonable cold. Walls holding most of this inclement weather at bay, but the open window on my left, is open to … to what? To let the fresh air in? … as if there probably isn’t already enough air, fresh enough for good health, inside this home, as most comfortable middle-class homes, already have, probably. Especially this home, my home, my rural but not farmhouse home, set amongst farmland, but far enough away from the farms, that I don’t have to worry too much, about bad things blowing in, from any of the agriculturalists’ toxic chemical weaponry, used to assist to bring good food to our nation, keeping unwanted things – fungus, insects, weeds, and so on, at bay … Farming, such a lovely thing, those gentle cows, those placid sheep, from where I watch, anyway – I’m well away from the abattoir, so I can pretend a little bit, and not gag at the idea of meat cooking on the bbq, but enjoy the work of the livestock producers instead … Changing ideas, or back to the original one, really … apparently it will be hot again in the week, an app told me that, when I looked on my mobile source of knowledge, formerly known as a ‘phone’, (which I sometimes actually use to talk to people on, but not often) … anyway looking with my eyes right now, through the opened window on my left, it looks like Summer has signed off for the season, and has let Autumn in, reminding me that climate and seasons, both change …

poetry

Today’s Poem Has Arrived!

carolyncordon

I’ve had to have my evening meal, and watch our favourite TV medical drama, but finally, the poem for this, the 8th of February is here. I’ve done a little bit more editing (a tiny bit), and now the poem is ready. The TV program was a taped one, and it’s one we always watch together, my husband and I. That point is an important one, in the terms of this particular poem I wrote for #poemadayfeb.

When you read the  poem, you should be able to see the truth of what I just said …

So here it is, the Poem for the 8th of February:

 

Prompt of “Body

My body is mine, not anyone else’s,

shared only with my permission.

It’s travelled with me, all my life,

a little damage in transmission.

 

We’ve been around, my body & I,

but our travelling days are over;

Thirty-plus years of married life –

husband & I, rolling in clover!

 

We share our lives, & our thoughts,

& some of the things we do,

not always though, not all the time,    

& that, I think, is the clue.

 

Time to just be by yourself

or with your friends, not his,

I suspect is why we never fight –

a pair, but each with our own biz.

 

He plays bowls, I’m a poet

He’s in the Lions, I’ve a writing group,

but every night we sleep together,

& really, I think that’s the scoop.

 

Sharing the bed, sharing our lives,

liking some things the same, not all –

together but not always, that’s the go

apart, yes, but differences are small …

poetry, writing exercise

Covering Same Issues

carolyncordon

With these writing prompts, that I write on every new day, I don’t know at the the start which direction my muse may take me. But the direction I headed straight away today, was to a place I’ve been before. Thoughts on ‘Hidden’ things have been a huge theme for my creative writing, and have brought good results, of various types, financial, therapeutic, and for the broader community too.

I have written more about the kind of thing I write about in today’s poem, on another of my blog, this one. I created that blog to help with promoting my poetry collection of the same name.

I don’t think I need to go to much further here now though, the poem I wrote for today, which is Day 6 of #poemadayfeb, will tell the story. I have been very much enjoying being involved with this daily poetry writing idea, & I hope I definitely stick with it to the rest of February, and perhaps beyond, using writing prompts from somewhere else. I have a box of writing prompts hidden away somewhere, and I have plenty of time to find them …

 

So here it is, my poem for this sixth day of February:

 

Finally Healing

 

It hurt so much, you kept it hidden,

your shame at what you’d done,

& knowing doing that was wrong.

 

But talk of ‘love’, was always there –

on radio, tv, movies, ever present,

& ‘love’ was what he’d  claimed …

 

But love in childhood isn’t that,

love for a child is pure & sweet,

what he did to you, wasn’t pure.

 

You held your story close inside,

until clarity & truth arrived at last –

with realisation fault wasn’t yours.

 

The adult, he was to blame for this,

you didn’t do it, it was done to you –

a child – the fault, all of it, was his.

 

He died alone, his crime unknown

except by other victims, perhaps.

& you’re all alive, your secrets told

 

& in telling, finding needed peace,

forgiving yourself, confident now

to tell your truth, & in telling, heal

poetry

Day 4 of #poemadayfeb

carolyncordon

Another day, another poem … The theme for today’s poem for this poetry projecct for February, is ‘Inside’ … As I’m sitting on the sofa this morning, laptop on lap, window the the left of me, TV screen in front of me, Missy our dog on her sofa on my left, it was easy to find things to put into an “inside” themed poem.

IMAG0306

So this poem is basically life as it happened, with some further thougthts about my life, Missy’s life, my husband’s life, and possible further life … At the moment, I’m happy enough with today’s poem, it isn’t loaded with metaphor or fancy poetic form constraints, it isn’t ‘clever’ or terribly deep, really.

It’s just my new poem, with some of my thoughts about the day, today, the fourth day of February, and what is happening right here, right now.

Here is the poem, I hope you like it. Feel free to post a comment, if you wish. About my poem, about the contents of this blog, about the #poemadayfeb project, about anything!

Here is today’s poem:

 

My Inside/Outside Life

 

Sitting inside, looking out,

I see cars passing by,

& trees with waving branches –

waving hello to me?

No, just waving, at the dictates

of the breeze.

 

Inside with me, are Missy,

& the TV screen.

Missy & I both ignore

screen’s action, Superbowl?

Pfft, who cares? Not us,

none of our business.

 

What is our business?

Is it inside or outside?

Missy is pet dog,

self-installed ‘guard’ dog,

hubby’s walking companion,

so for her it’s both.

 

My business is, hmm, what?

Writing? Community stuff?

‘Business’ is a textured word,

spiky with taxation obligations

& other rules & regulations,

but can be rewarding, too …

 

I’m a pensioner,

my ‘business’ is untainted

by money, & taxation,

unless my business was to off,

climbing above & beyond

inside/outside constraints.

 

Writing, & community,

writing about community,

just writing, writing a poem

writing a novel, writing my way

into things, bigger and better

than my inside/outside life?

Writing

On Writing a Poem a Day

carolyncordon

I have a friend, a fellow writer, who has put together a list of words, and has challenged others to write a poem a day for the month of February. This list of words was posted on instagram, which I don’t ‘do’, but there was a link on Twitter from this person, and I certainly ‘do’ Twitter. My friend is Kathy Parker, and she is a fine writer, and keen blogger.

The idea is to use the given list for writing prompts, and write a new poem every single day in February based on the day’s prompt. It seemed like a fun challenge to me, so I said, yes, sure I can do that. So today, on the first day of February, and the first day of the challenge, here is my first poem, which I just finished writing. The poem refers to something that happened to me yesterday. I will explain a little about the poem after.

Poem a Day, subject – Heat

 

In the heat of discovery

Thinking on the past, things happened

bad things, good things, so-so things

but this new thing, this wondrous thing

has warmed my heart and my writerly soul!

I thank my former self, my untidy, creative,

even sometimes crazy self, thank you,

thank you, thank you, for this wondrous gift!

A novel written by a past me, hidden away

for some unknown reason, lost? Not sure,

but has reappeared, a first draft, with some

minor changes already on it, and with more

to add, change, explore, and wonder at, as

the future me, thanks the former me,

for losing this novel way back whenever,

for me to find again now, at a time when I am

eager, ready, willing, and able, to work

as needed to turn lost possibility, into found

certainty, as I read this novel and wonder

at the beauty and interest in my forgotten words.

I know this forgotten story, and these characters,

I’m remembering it, this lost story I lived with

 for a time, back in my past, and now I hope

to read this story, edit, it, love it all over again,

and to share this story, with as many others

as I can, as a brand new book, in this new year!

 

So yesterday, as this new poem indicates, I did indeed find a manuscript of a first draft of a novel I wrote many years ago. I’m not sure how many years ago it was, & I’m not sure how I actually came to find this paticular sizable piece of writing, and why I took a look at it, and suddenely remembered it, of course, that story, those characters, hooray, I might be able to do something with this.

The manuscript is printed single spaced, it is 84 pages, and I suspect it may have something like 62,000 words. I’m going to check the going word count required for a book such as this one, before I get to far through the process of reading this story again for the first time since I put it away.

So I’ve just spent half an hour looking at word counts for books, and it looks like the best length is probably somewhere around 80,000 words. My very rough calculations put my novel at 62,000 words, as I wrote earlier. I’ve only just begun reading through my first draft of this book of mine, and I am adding, rather than subtracting from the word count, and I’ve discovered some notes I’ve written, that indicate I will need to add more to the novel to clarify some issues, so that will add further to the word count.

All in all, I am quite excited about all of this. By the way 2019 is looking, I may well actually end up writing at least four whole books in just one year! Woo hoo to me!