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Writing Prompts, Poetry Forms, News and Book Reviews
Hey, poets, finally a technological invention specifically for us: an instrument to measure our “blueness” or our current saturation of sorrow.
Write a poem using the number system below for your current emotional chroma.
Bonus prompt: Write a poem or short story about an instrument that can predict and ultimately modify emotional states.
Once again a week has slipped by without me doing anything other than doom scrolling and procrastinating…so here is a prompt I stole from Twitter
Bonus prompt: Reread William E. Stafford’s poem “Traveling through the Dark.” Assume that the deer looking into the camera is the fawn the narrator pushed over the edge but who lived. Write a poem or short story that explains what comes next.
Your prompt is to take a poem and revise it one more time. For longer poems move down four or five lines from the end and begin there. For shorter poems, take the last line of the poem to use as your first. What happens? Better?
Try to avoid the 8th revision results as so aptly demonstrated by the following tweet and pic:
Alas, I have many poems that I revised into the second bird.
Bonus prompt: Write a Standard Operating Procedure for the second bird.
If I were an RPG character in my life, I would call myself Lollianne the Lazy. Another week of not writing, reading (except Doomscrolling), or editing others’ manuscripts…but I did see this on Twitter.
Write a persona poem from the statue’s perspective of emerging from the earth after centuries. Extra points for references of Persephone, the failed rescue of Eurydice, or any other descent into Hades or ascent from.
Bonus prompt: Write a monologue from Antinous, the lover of the Roman emperor Hadrian. After Antinous drowned in the Nile, Hadrian deified him.
Labor Day honors the work and sacrifice by giving a day of rest, but of course many still have to go to outside jobs and others never stop working at home. I never believe anyone who says they are self-made; instead, I think they simply overlook all the people who work around them and for them.
For the first prompt, make a list of five tasks someone does for you regularly. This task could be performed by a family member, a friend, a partner, a coworker or someone in the community (thank you, essential workers). Choose one to write about. For inspiration, read Robert Hayden’s lovely “Those Winter Sundays” or click on the link to hear the audio recording.
For the second prompt, write a poem using the following words from the poem: “cracked,” “weekday,” “blaze,” “splintering,” “call,” “chronic,” “driven,” “polished,” “well,” and “lonely.”
For the last prompt, use “What did I know” as a ghostline or as an anaphora and don’t forget to credit the poet.
Some poets only need a few lines to astonish me.
For the first prompt, think about the poem’s title. What does this choice indicate about the poem itself [From Merriam-Webster, “exoteric” means “suitable to be imparted to the public”; “belonging to the outer or less initiate circle”; “relating to the outside”/“external”]? Write a poem that asks universal questions and provide your own answers.
As you write or edit, consider whom you are writing this poem for? Whom do you generally picture as your audience? When you imagine yourself performing your poems in front of a crowd, who is there? Everyone you know, faceless blobs, or just a few particular people? Do the people change for each poem? Who is the general public now? Silent or vocal, majority or not, who needs these questions asked and answered?
Again think about the title and how it so encapsulates the poem’s lines. How would the answers differ if the title had been its antonym, “esoteric”? For the second prompt, write a poem using the title “Esoteric” to discover what happens. What questions—or perhaps only the answers to these rather universal questions—are restricted to only the few? Who are the insiders or the experts in your inner world and of what do only they know?
For the next prompt, take one of the italicized lines and use as a ghostline. Be sure to credit the poet.
This is an old picture of my daughter with a strand of seaweed she named “Lemony” and dragged behind her for the entire day. Rotting and crawling with flies, the seaweed didn’t seem sweet scented to me, but to her Lemony was golden. (Btw, she was not allowed to bring Lemony home.)
Bonus prompt: write about an imaginary friend or some cherished childhood item that others didn’t understand or appreciate in the same way.
Today is my father’s birthday, so I wanted to focus on father prompts and also fangirl this brilliant poem.
For the first prompt, collect five pictures of your father taken at different points in time, or of a powerful mentor if you prefer. What does his expression tell you about the time and him? How has he aged? Has you relationship changed? If so, how? Describe the last time you saw him in person.
For the second prompt, write a poem using the following words from the poem: “twist,” “frozen,” “saved,” “animal,” “smoke,” “surprise,” “serene,” and “whisper” but use at least two of the words twice.
For a third prompt, use the “We talked until” as a ghostline and be sure to give the poet credit. To read more poems by W. Todd Kaneko, check out the poet’s website.
With all the stress and uncertainty, sometimes we need to harvest some small joy. Write a poem about a time you were utterly blissful. Perhaps it was during a relationship that didn’t last or maybe it was a time during childhood and that hopefulness is long gone; regardless, focus on that moment of elation.
Happy poems can be more difficult to write than sad ones. Pain and sorrow seem to translate across barriers and languages. We might worry that cheerful poems will come across as shallow or lazily sentimental—and they can—so practice writing joy so that your audience can experience it too. (This instruction is directed at myself more than anyone else.)
Bonus prompt: write a persona poem from the mouse. Be extravagant in your delight.
We don’t always get what we want but perhaps we do get what we deserve:
Write a poem in which you did this and, damn, did you ever. Or write a short story that’s story arc can summed up by this.
Good luck reaping what you sowed, but, hey, you got a story or a poem out of it. Good enough.
I fell in love with these amazing photos by Shaylin Wallace. If only I could have my head replaced with flowers so that I could feed on light and my entire face could open up for my lover.
For the first prompt, write a monologue from one of these four portraits.
For the second prompt, write a conversation by the four of them. Or describe the language they share. Does it hum like bees or the ruffling of small wings? What does it mean when one of them opens up? Do the others listen? Do bees and other pollinators carry their words to one another?
For a third prompt, choose the one that represents you and explain why. If none of them resonate with you, check out the artist’s website, which include titles for these portraits. And here is where you can get reprints.
Here is the website in case the links don’t work: https://www.smwvisuals.com/photo-manipulations
So I certainly know that one of the best ways to become a better writer is to be a voracious reader. I heard in a workshop (and of course cannot remember which or by whom) that writers need to spend three hours reading for every hour of writing. If Twitter counts, I certainly do that; otherwise…
Poet Nicole Sealey created the Sealey Challenge—read 31 poetry books or chap books in 31 days. Like NaPoWriMo (April’s writing 30 poems in 30 days challenge), there is no trophy, but the goal is to make you a better reader and writer, and online communities recommend and discuss books. The challenge is a way to promote new and lesser known authors too.
If you are interested in joining me, let me know! And of course send me your book recommendations!
Here is what I am reading now: Ways We Vanish by Todd Dillard. It’s excellent!
For your prompt, use the title “Ways Things Vanish” by Todd Dillard and create a list poem. Here are the first few lines of the poem (this link takes you to the entire poem in the journal Cotton Xenomorph).
I still am struggling with a lack of inspiration and motivation—the day slips by without me even starting what I had intended to finish. So much is terrible that it is difficult for me to find a quiet enough space inside to create something of my own.
Now it seems impossible to not echo the loss and rage all around (and feel guilt at my fortune in not losing anyone or being targeted). I recently wrote a poem that tried to explore some of the history of racial injustice in the US but instead sounded as if I were appropriating other people’s pain, and some of the language and imagery I used did not match my intention.
I am lucky to have friends who can read and point out my mistakes and offer me guidance, but of course I am responsible for ensuring I don’t appropriate another person’s experiences and that I don’t center myself in other people’s struggles.
I also don’t want to feel as if I am mining my own pain just for a poem to show off as if it were some trendy piece of jewelry, nor do I want to trap myself within my own trauma and erase all the joys I also experienced. Or forget that I survived. I found comedian Hannah Gadsby’s “Nanette” and “Douglas” to address these issues brilliantly.
Likewise I found Gaia Rajan’s poem “Inside Every Poem You Can Hear Muffled Screams” to be incredibly powerful and insightful. I know I will come back to it again and again.
Your prompt is to write a poem in which you free yourself within the poem from the cage you already escaped.
Bonus prompt: imagine spilling your guts and out came flowers and herbs.
A while back I read a fascinating discussion between two poets. Since then I have been thinking about quatrains as rooms and trying to visualize what a couplet would be. A covered porch, a gazebo? Here is the discussion below:
What kind of structure feels most natural to you? Or do you experiment with multiple forms? Why or why not? Has your structure changed over time?
For this prompt, take a poem you’ve written and reorganize it into first quatrains or then into couplets. Think of this process as creating spaces—either covered patios or indoor rooms. See what the affect of the extra line space affects the pacing. Which feels fits the poem better? Think about why and possibly even write down these differences to clarify this for yourself.
Analyze a set of four or five poems all related on a theme and edit them specifically for structure. See if the restructuring changes the overall feel.
If you wish, you can try to use this as a writing prompt: consciously write a poem as if you were building a structure with each stanza of quatrain as a wall/support or each couplet a covered walkway moving the poem along. What do you see? What is upheld by your structure? Where do you end up?
Bonus prompt: using sound associations of the word “monostrophe,” address a poem—in one stanza—to a monster. Good luck!
Still have not finished what I need to work on, and I am even having difficulty coming up with synonyms. My head is a TV with a dangling bunny ear antennae…all static and snow. I hope the rest of you are more productive.
If I were a patron saint, it would have to be of blank pages/screens and a nervously tapping foot. This next prompt is provided by @sharksandpoems on Twitter:
For this prompt, choose something small and specific or mundane. Let others be the saints of thunder and death, rebirth, truth and light. Be the patron saint of petrichor, of Vicks Vapor Rub, of the small bowl of extra pennies at a gas station.
Or elevate yourself to full-on deity, but be petty: god of the well, actually or goddess of the smirk-at-your-pandemic-pajamas-on-Zoom. Or be useful and unassuming: be the god of a lens wipe, goddess of the paper clip, the deity of the Forever stamp.
Or make yourself a nature divinity, one of a specific rock formation or tree branch or curve in a river.
For more ideas, check out this list of Roman deities: https://www.unrv.com/culture/minor-roman-god-list.php (apparently I cannot use the link function tonight, sigh).
What if inside each of us is a little girl wandering through a forest, an old woman waiting, a woodcutter sharpening an ax, the forest itself growing and dying and growing, a big bad wolf seeking to eat the young and tender and the aged and wise, and an ax swinging.
Write a poem or short story about what grows inside of you or another, remaining hidden and trapped, and what else cuts its way out into the world.
As you probably noticed, it has been weeks since I posted anything. Partly this is due stressing myself out because I promised to promote friends’ work—I often perform best when I care the least. Mostly though, I am not writing or even reading. I simply did not have any creativity or motivation. These days feel as if I am eating Saltines in the Sahara—dry, very dry.
Last night’s virtual reading helped—thank you, Eric Morago for Shout—I once again experienced the shiver from hearing a powerful poem. I even managed to write a (bad) poem this morning. This coming week, I will being posting regularly again. But baby steps. So here is a stolen Twitter prompt:
Write a poem or short story using the generator.
You will of course want to expand the poem and give credit to the generator if you wish to publish what you’ve written.
Below is a bonus ekphrastic prompt:
Today is just too hard of a day to think of anything to write or pretend that this country is just and good, so I want to share these powerful poems by Rita Dove, Karisma Price, and Danez Smith.
I am in awe of the artistry and the beauty—as well I should be for a former U.S. poet laureate, but even within that exalted level, there are distinctions. Here is a link to more of Rita Dove’s poetry published online by the American Academy of Poets.
Below is Karisma Price’s breathtaking poem. Here is the poet’s website if you would like to read more.
With board games, puzzles and almost indoor entertainment backordered, let’s follow the example of Kelli Russell and Melissa Studdard and create our own games in this time of isolation and panic.
Create your own version of traditional games—gather duplicate photos of your friends for a game of Memory or use birthday cards, holiday cards, and invitations as a personalized deck of cards for Solitaire. Print out photos of flowers and landscape or crowded city streets from your last trip or group selfies from meeting with friends for coffee or drinks or going out to the movies and then cut puzzle pieces out of all of them and mix them up. Try to put your world back together.
Play the game you have made and write about the experience. Did you win?
Bonus prompt: choose one of the poem’s Bingo spaces that you have recently landed on and write about it. Remember to go easy on yourself. Let yourself win this round.
Unlike me, many of you probably completed the 30 poems in a 30 days challenge. That is awesome! Now for even more fun: editing those poems! Below is a Twitter discussion that I found really intriguing. The original conversation began as quirky ways people approach reaching poems and novels, but then poet Julia Beach explained why she first reads The last three words of the fourth line from the bottom in other people’s poems and in her own as the poem’s key.
Take one of the poems you’ve written recently, or perhaps one that has never really come together, and try seeing if this “map” helps you cut and expand the rest of the poem to fit that vision.
Here is the prompt: use this same reading process of using the last three words of the fourth line from the bottom of a poem and use them as your opening line and build a poem from there. See where you end up. You can then choose to erase those three words so that they function as a ghostline or you can keep them, using italics or quotation marks. Either way, be sure to give the poet credit.
Bonus prompt: what does this tree remind you of? A key, a warning, the devil’s spork? Write a poem or story about coming across this tree in an abruptly silent forest. What does it mean?
Today was a hard day. Many people cannot see their mothers due to the risk of spreading the virus or because of distance (and restrictions on travel) or by loss. I am sorry. It is hard to be away from loved ones and harder still when we can never see them again. And it is difficult for people who had to cut family ties for their self-preservation or whose continued meetings with family bring more pain than joy.
For the first prompt, write a poem about a moment in time when you and your mom seemed to completely understand one another. Try to create a conversation between the two using the contrapuntal form (discussed in a previous blog post).
Or perhaps nothing was said, but your eyes met or you reacted the same way simultaneously. If so, describe the setting. Use inclusive language as if even the furniture and pictures on the wall and the TV show playing in your home were all part of this moment with the two of you. Or if outside, bring the breeze, the humming of insects, the smell of grass into the experience.
If you have never shared a happy moment of understanding with a mother, write about that moment you did have with someone else. Family can be by blood or by choice. Celebrate a loved one.
Here is a lovely poem by Ada Limón that can be your inspiration.
For the next prompt, write a poem using the following words from “The Raincoat”: “brace,” “work,” “unspooled,” “unclouded,” “drive,” “unfettered,” “home,” “solid,” “give,” and “whole.”
For the last prompt, start a poem using “I never asked” from “The Raincoat” and go from there. As always, give credit to the author.
