Special challenge from prompt: write six six-word poems, each using one of the above words.
He
pulls back
love’s broken bow.
Nothing
leans like
a child’s eyes.
The
day breaks
on empty park.
Demons
saw free
our deepest fears.
She
tears a
poem for her.
Wounds
don’t heal.
They only change.
Poetic Form: Hay(na)ku
The morning session for Martha's Vineyard Institute of Creative Writing Writers' Conference was titled, "Who's on First? The Persona Poem at Play". The session was parallel to yesterday's session, but had unique aspects that expanded my understanding of the persona poem. Again, these poems were done during the open writing time, so they will probably be revised later.
The first writing prompt was centered on a fictional character. I chose the very hungry caterpillar on Saturday morning.
“In the Park”
Hmmm,
There should be a song about Saturdays and parks
What a lovely day
I almost don’t feel the fear of why
I am so ravished with this hunger
It seems as if my very soul is empty
For days I’ve been searching
Enjoying delicious fruits
Walking in your rays
But each night, I fall into a troubled sleep
Stomach hurting
Feeling myself expanding
Each morning
When I see you
This hunger drives me farther from my home
I need more
Huhhh
What is this red and white thing on the ground?
The second writing prompt was centered on a historical event before we were born or during our lives.We were asked to take the perspective of someone at the event that wasn't a main figure. In the Love Poetry session yesterday we read the first ever recorded love poem, "The Love Song of Shu-Sin". I considered how a servant might have been there.
“The Love Poem”
I remember how much time it took
Sun moving through the sky
I would bring her food and drink
She barely touched them
Her hands working the sharp reeds into the wet clay
The pile growing smaller as the edges became dull
I could see her mouth move
Repeating words
Verbal kisses she transcribed onto the clay
I don’t remember what she wrote
I was assigned to prepare for the wedding feast
Before she was done
The next time I served her
She was queen
The afternoon session was focused on prose poetry, "The Pliable Prose Poem". We had a number of writing activities that helped the attendees understand the form. With one of the exercises, our instructor shared info on the Blue Lake Rhino Cave.
The morning session for Martha's Vineyard Institute of Creative Writing Writers' Conference was centered on love and loss. Again, these poems were done during the open writing time, so they will probably be revised later.
The first part of the session was looking at how love is displayed through ordinary moments. It made me think about a somewhat joke that my wife thinks I'm sexy when I clean, so I went with that idea to a degree with the following poem.
“20 Years”
After 20 years together
She’s heard every line I’ve used in college
We’ve danced in bars
And around the kitchen island
I still play my CDs loud in the minivan
My six offspring
Moan as I sing to the 80s on 8
But we are all silent when she sings
Her first name is odd on my tongue
Her hairstyle changes
With the time left in the morning
We fall asleep too early
Yet stay awake until the teens come home
This love was built on late night whispers
But it is sustained
In the clean rows left on the carpet
After I vacuum.
The second part of the session was diving into loss through those ordinary moments. The poem I wrote is based from something my half-brother said after he lost his partner.
"Silence"
The hallway
Our pictures in your favorite frames
The kitchen
Too much coffee sitting in the carafe
The patio
Sunlight reflecting off the flower pots
All is silent
It feels like it will stay this way forever
Just yesterday your voice echoed off of the picture frames
Bounced on the table settings
And sank onto my skin like the sun
As we sat drinking lemonade
I feel the air
Still and unwavering
An emptiness
Filling the space we shared
I am drowning in it
Lungs burning
My heart in a panic
I am blinded by more than tears
If I open the door I know the world will be swamped
By this silence
I move slowly through the aching silenced
of all the times I won’t hear you say
“I love you.”
The afternoon session was an ode to joy, but was broken into different elements, like food, a body part, a moment. This poem isn't joyful, but that is OK.
“My Shoulders”
My shoulders hurt almost all the time
A quick movement
A different angle
Will bring a jolt of age to my teeth
I’ve carried so much over the years
Thousands of circles soothing my children
Father and daughter in orbit with the moonlight on the floor
Moved my whole home into a house overnight
Piggybacks
Parental expectations
I’ve shouldered for decades
My shoulder hurt almost all the time
The world seems to have lodged a spur
Into my collarbone
I can’t lift my arms up
To hold back the onslaught of its icons
I cry tears of pain
Of frustration
Holding myself up against the door frame
Fearful of the weight my children
Already carry on their shoulders
As they dart down
The front steps
