Shadows are made of black liquorice.
Water’s wet ’cause it gives a sloppy kiss.
The sky starts and ends in the ocean.
The dinosaurs live with the Swiss.
Thoughts are blown into our heads
like poison darts by invisible men.
To touch the sky you have to sit still
And angels crack jokes now and then.
People fade like old clothing,
that’s why my hair is going grey.
But even though my body goes
with you, my heart will stay.
Today’s prompt is from Daisy Fried, and the basic idea is to write a ten-line poem in which each line is a lie.
The lies could be silly, complicated, tricky, or obvious.
I decided to have fun and try answering some of the questions from Day 14. :)
Alter my consciousness, give me a by.
Set me to siesta on a starry sea.
Wink forty times and shut my eye.
Hypno-somn me, into La-la-land slip.
Power down my processor, turn out my light
Take me to Morpheus; crash, snooze, kip.
Just let me sleep through the night.
Today’s prompt is to write a poem in terza rima. This form was invented by Dante, and used in The Divine Comedy. It consists of three-line stanzas, with a “chained” rhyme scheme. The first stanza is ABA, the second is BCB, the third is CDC, and so on. No particular meter is necessary, but English poets have tended to default to iambic pentameter (iambic pentameter is like the Microsoft Windows of English poetry). One common way of ending a terza rima poem is with a single line standing on its own, rhyming with the middle line of the preceding three-line stanza.
I am actually too sleepy to do this poem justice. Another work in process. :)
crash, zizz, kip
What are shadows made of?
And why is water wet?
Where do thoughts come from?
Why don’t doggies sweat?
Where does the sky end?
And why is it so blue?
Where did all the dinos go?
Why don’t things stay new?
Why do I have two eyes
But only see one thing?
Who put the clouds up there?
Who taught the birds to sing?
How hard do I have to jump
If I want to touch the sky?
Do angels tell each other jokes?
Is rain when angels cry?
Why don’t you know the answers
To all the questions in my head?
“That’s what Google’s for, my dear;
I’m here for hugs,” I said.
Today’s prompt is to write a poem in which every sentence, except for the last one, is in the form of a question.
No one asks questions like children, as they try to make sense of the world. “WHY?”
(bursting through the air
like great green fireworks –
then brought low to carpet the road,
preparing the way for the Lord)
speak and cry out:
We are those who have been cut off,
garnished for a moment in time
then cast to earth
to be trod upon.
And the Son of David replies
by overturning tables.
Burn the dross.
Own your neediness.
Only with empty hands
can you receive.
cuts across heaven
like so many sheep
full and fat
Slowly the celestial sphere
and melts into the fish tank,
while angels scatter burning seed
in the firmament.
Today’s prompt is to write a poem that contains at least one kenning. 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.”
I like kennings, but had very little time today, so my offering is quite meagre. This little poem is begging for more work . . .
You’ve pierced my heart,
strung it on string and
hung it around your neck.
Close to your own heart,
Today’s prompt is a “replacement” poem. Pick a common noun for a physical thing, for example, “desk” or “hat” or “bear,” and then pick one for something intangible, like “love” or “memories” or “aspiration.” Then Google your tangible noun, and find some sentences using it. Now, replace that tangible noun in those sentences with your intangible noun, and use those sentences to create (or inspire) a poem.
Here is my bit from Wikipedia:
A heart is a small, decorative object that is formed in a variety of shapes and sizes of a material such as glass, plastic, or wood, and that is pierced for threading or stringing. Hearts range in size from under 1 millimetre to over 1 centimetre in diameter. Heartwork is the art or craft of making things with hearts. Hearts can be woven together with specialised thread, strung onto thread or soft, flexible wire, or adhered to a surface.
How weary, Greg, you must have been
defining o’er and o’er again
That which cannot be defined
Beyond the grasp of human mind.
I hold you, brother, o, so dear,
Though we be parted many years,
For kindred souls cross all divides
when in the heart of God they lie.
We shall unite — the church, as one
When Father Time his course is run.
Our eternal privilege then shall be
To sing the praise of One in Three.
Today’s prompt is to write in the fashion of Anacreon, a Greek poet who was rather partial to the subject of love and wine, wine and love. Anacreon developed a particular meter for his tipsy, lovey-dovey verse, but Anacreontics in English generally do away with meter-based constraints. Anacreontics might be described as a sort of high-falutin’ drinking song. Today’s challenge is to write about wine-and-love. Of course, you may have no love of wine yourself, in which case you might try an anti-Anacreontic poem.
I chose to try and write in the “pious anacreontic style” of Gregory of Nazianzus (c. 329– 389).
(In 1800 Tom Moore published a collection of erotic anacreontics; Moore speaks of the necessity of catching “the careless facility with which Anacreon appears to have trifled,” as a reason why anacreontics are often tame and worthless. He dwells, moreover, on the absurdity of writing “pious anacreontics,” a feat, however, which was performed by several of the Greek Christian poets, and in particular by Gregory of Nazianzus and John of Damascus.)
There you go, a brief history lesson along with our daily poem. ;-)