Posts Tagged ‘writing prompts’
crystal ball
During these incredible days of isolation, our writing group has begun a series of prompts to help stimulate writing. One of our members suggested ‘weird phrases’ as the prompt category. So far we have had ‘ear hair,’ ‘under the fridge,’ ‘spider web’ and ‘crystal ball.’
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I have two ‘crystal balls,’ both small and both more properly called ‘glass spheres.’ But they are as close to a crystal ball as I will ever have. I am certain neither sees the ‘future’ but both show an interesting ‘present’ and both remind me of the ‘past.’
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clairvoyance
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my crystal ball
is a glass sphere
from a claw-footed
piano stool I sat on
to practice my scales
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chipped, it never
snags the sun
will not scry or clarify
occludes
forecasting fog
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it has a past
Chopin’s Butterfly Étude
in half-time
and a furry
Für Elise
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but gaze
though I may
it never resonates
with a note
about tomorrow
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although it has
guessed, after
damaging percussion,
I will never play
Carnegie Hall
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All my best,
Jane
pantoum on morning
A couple of months ago, a friend from my Fictional Friends writing group suggested the image below as a writing prompt. The image reminded me of my once-daily morning commute where I would often see the settling of the morning mists in the low valley of the Saint John River.
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morning mist
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wake in morning, wool-headed
reluctant to start the day
fog settles as droplets of dew
webs woven over pasture
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reluctant to start the day
fleece teased over hollows of hill
webs woven over pasture
hesitation of a solitary ewe
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fleece teased over hollows of hill
disperse as sun stretches arms
hesitation of a solitary ewe
drowsy as dreams feather into deed
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disperse as sun stretches arms
push back pillows and duvet
drowsy as dreams feather into deed
woolen blanket of valley mist
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push back pillows and duvet
wake in morning wool-headed
woolen blanket of valley mist
fog settles as droplets of dew
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I have been thinking about prompts for writing: images, collage, words, phrases, sentences, and so on. Just google ‘writing prompts’ for a barrage of ideas. Writing prompts can be used to combat ‘writer’s block’, to suggest new pathways for writing or to find new metaphors.
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For a poet, I think another type of prompt is ‘form’. Form suggests new patterns of expressing an idea. For the poem ‘morning mist‘, I used a photo as a visual writing prompt and the pantoum form (with modifications) to explore new ways to pattern ideas about morning.
pantoum – a poetic form written in any number of quatrains with an abab rhyme scheme and repeating lines: the first and third lines of any stanza are the same as the second and fourth lines of the preceding stanza; the first and third lines of the opening stanza are used as the second or fourth lines of the last stanza. The last line of the poem may be the same as its first line.
I like the interweaving of ideas and emerging images as the pantoum proceeds. The repetition slows the poem and establishes echoes within.
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All my best,
Jane Tims
rural to urban
In one of my recent posts, here, I wrote about a course I took using collage-making as a writing prompt. To help us visualize the method, the teacher (Lynn Davies) gave us examples of collages she had built and asked us to do some response writing. Here is a facsimile of Lynn’s collage and the poem I wrote in response.
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Relocating the Rhino
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We move,
rural to urban.
Exchange night song
for traffic noise.
Swap canopied trees
for storied buildings,
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night stars and Jupiter
for wall switches
and tic-tac-toe
of energy leak
from offices
in skyscrapers.
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Beneath our feet,
rocks become fluid,
magma, electric blue.
Footing uncertain
on rocks
that wobble.
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We armor ourselves,
chose tenement addresses.
Turn off lights
to save our silver,
wish for stars
in the night sky.
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See only
tired workers,
keeping
the lights on
way past
quitting time.
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Since I am a community planner and environmentalist, the interpretation of the collage comes as no surprise. The surprises (for me) are the rhino as metaphor for humans moving into the urban setting and the comparison of the twinkle of office buildings to the twinkle of rural stars. Implied is the irony of rural workers, seeking a better life, working even longer hours when they migrate to an urban life.
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All my best,
Jane Tims
