Writer’s Digest

PAD 2017 – Day 14

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Today’s Writer’s Digest prompt called for poems inspired by popular sayings. I’m feeling a little “under the weather” and couldn’t muster more than a few micros today. I think the idea of taking an old saying some place new certainly has potential for fun and interesting wordplay, on a day when I have a little more “get up and go.”

*****

tug of war

the news pulls

my heartstrings

*****

Mom’s recipes

everything’s easier

than pie

*****

air grows thin

with time

on cloud nine

*****

editing the poem

I become a woman

of few(er) words

I’ve admired the writing of Alberta poet, and former Edmonton Poet Laureate, Anna Marie Sewell for a long time, but I just discovered today that she’s doing wonderful things on her website for National Poetry Month. I’ve enjoyed all her daily offerings so far, but especially her poem for April 4, which begins with the line: “it reeks a hirsute, ursine pong.” Awesome.  Check out the 30/30 2017 poems here.

PAD 2017 – Day 13

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The NaPoWriMo prompt today asked for a ghazal. I’ve never written one before, though I’ve enjoyed reading many. Sometimes I find repetition in forms off-putting, but that’s not usually the case when I read ghazals. I used the Writer’s Digest family prompt to give me my subject, and kind of free wrote from that. This seems so far from done, but I do think (hope) it will be something I come back to.

 

Ghazal: Sister Memory

 

Take me there again, with a nose full of home memory,

puff of lemon dish soap, cigarette smoke haze in my memory.

 

Each of us carries one, sometimes many, clenched in our fist,

moulded by pressure, the certain shape of our memory.

 

My sister recalls an action scene, shot wide in CinemaScope,

a drama I can’t recall, or one I’ve scrubbed from my memory.

 

Another moment, snipping wild baby’s breath from a roadside,

holding bouquets too big for our hands, sun bleached memory.

 

One we both need, smudged like a fingerprint, we try to recover with dust.

Using our own sharpened pencils to colour the edges of the memory.

 

I tend to write a lot of family poems. Awhile ago I had the extreme pleasure of receiving feedback on some of my writing from Red Deer poet and author Kimmy Beach. I showed her a poem about my Mom, with towels being a sort of symbol for comfort. She said it reminded her of a poem she’d written for a friend, called “Most Trusted Remedy.” The emotion in it is just beautiful, without being too familiar or sentimental. I love this poem.

PAD 2017 – Day 9

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Can’t believe it’s already the ninth day of National Poetry Month. NaPoWriMo central suggested a 9-line poem for today, and I took that suggestion, but not the added challenge of writing in a particular form or rhyme scheme. I also combined it with the Writer’s Digest prompt to start a poem with “So”.  There is much talk where I live about the devastating wildfire that ravaged Fort McMurray last year, so that’s what inspired this poem.

 

So This Is What’s Left

 

There are still magpies, warbling in the morning.

Along the river trail, mayflies speckle a bench.

Vagabond black bears rove the empty streets.

Crooked line of pines untouched

at the western edge of the city.

Haze has released its hold on the sky.

On this block, the Gallagher’s birch tree,

scorched but standing. The highest point.

In spring, yellow tulips will peek through the rubble.

 

Some poets, like Edmonton’s Lisa Martin, have an astounding ability to bring beauty to themes of loss and suffering.  Listen to her read “On Being In Love” from her latest book Believing is Not the Same as Being Saved, and read the great article and interview below.

PAD 2017 – Day 8

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Panic is the prompt of the day over at Writer’s Digest, and I’m feeling it a little now, as I’ve bit off more poetic pie than I can chew this weekend. I’m committed to these daily prompts, but also signed up for CV2 Magazine’s 2-Day poem contest, and a beading workshop this afternoon, and have to get my kids to dance and sportball too, then have to work tonight. How many hours do I think there are in a day? But sometimes the pressure, and even the panic, are what I need to get moving. I decided to mix the panic prompt with NaPoWriMo’s call for a poem with repetition, so here it goes:

The Big Fall

 

It spreads faster than lice in a preschool,

soon we’re  trembling, sweating,

holding our hands to our chests

to slow the galloping hearts.

Don’t panic, don’t panic, relax, relax.

But it’s not as simple as that

when we’re stuck in fight, flight or freeze,

that feeling in our lungs,

like we forgot how to breathe.

Don’t panic, don’t panic, relax, relax.

Is the room on a tilt? Whipping round

like a top, can we make it stop? Ask

to get off? If we hold hands will it slow,

bring the blood back? Halt the attack?

Don’t panic, don’t panic, relax, relax.

Is this really it? The poets, they’re liars,

crazy romantics, but I need you to kiss me,

‘cuz if we’re both going mad, loopy

and falling, we’ve gotta go together.

 

Maybe falling in love isn’t the usual kind of panic, but I think many of the symptoms are the same. I’m also not sure if today’s Alberta poem is a love poem, but I see that when I look at it. Check out  the beautiful “For Kristen” by Calgary visual poet derek beaulieu.

PAD 2017 – Day 3

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Today’s Writer’s Digest prompt is to write a “______ of Love” poem. I have “not a lot of love” for this prompt, because I found it so difficult! All I could come up with was a micro of sorts, but many of the other creations I’ve read on the site are wonderful.

Parachute of Love

If I had one now
I wouldn’t be
falling for you
so hard.

It was much easier for me to pick an Alberta poet today, and fittingly there’s some lusty humour and masterful wordplay in her poem. Leslie Greentree is a Griffin Poetry Prize nominated writer from Red Deer. Please check out this excellent video of her reading “if I was a gate” from her book go-go dancing for Elvis.

 

 

PAD 2017 – Day 2

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Doing a bit of prompt mixing today with the the NaPoWriMo.net suggestion to write a poem inspired by a recipe, and the Writer’s Digest “not today” prompt. Today would’ve been my Mom’s 74th birthday, so this one’s still at the fresh-from-the-sentimental-oven stage.

 

How to Celebrate

 

To do it right

I’d make you a cherry pie,

the perfect crust, flaky and just brown,

sticky sweet filling bubbling at the edges

and a fork-print “M” in the centre

for Mom.

 

To do it right

I’d celebrate your birthday

with tulips and a tune,

Song Sung Blue, a hot cup of coffee,

a mucky walk along

the river.

 

To do it right

I’d gather photos of you,

before I was born,

before any of us were,

and your hair fell past

your shoulders.

 

To do it right

I’d read that soft smile

for the woman you were,

more on your lips

that I wish you could

tell me.

 

My Alberta poem share today is by Calgary poet Tyler B. Perry, titled “I don’t teach subjects; I teach students.” It’s one of my favourites from his first book, Lessons in Falling.

PAD 2017 – Day 1

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Hooray, hooray it’s the first of…April! That means the start of National Poetry Month, and NaPoWriMo. Like previous years, I am attempting to write and post for the poem-a-day challenge, using prompts from various places (there are lots of great ones out there!) and combining them if it works.

I am big on ambition, but short on time, so I don’t expect these poems to be particularly polished. But what I’ve learned from previous years of participating in this is that it’s more about the discipline it takes to write something every day, and also about finding ways to experiment or try out new forms.

I am also going to use the month to shine some light on the many, many wonderful poets who live in my own province, Alberta. I plan to post a link to an online work by an Alberta poet each day, and encourage you to not only read their work, but take the time to seek out and support the poets in your own region. They will thank you for it.

Today’s poem comes from a Writer’s Digest prompt to write a “reminiscing” poem, mixed with the NaPoWriMo prompt to emulate the style of poet Kay Ryan.

 

A Shady Path

 

Imagine a tree

so thick at its base

that even Billy’s

long arms couldn’t

embrace the space,

but how sharp

the sound, the snap

of one fallen branch

blocking our path,

just a trio of leaves

left on its skinny

fingers, the way

a whisper of breeze

slipped under

my dress like

a warning.

 

My Alberta poem today comes from one of my all-time favourite poets, Alice Major. Not only am I constantly amazed by Alice’s books (of which there are many), but I am also in admiration of her lifetime commitment to spreading the love of poetry. She is the first poet laureate of Edmonton and the founder of the fabulous Edmonton Poetry Festival. Please click here to read the wonderful poem  “Suncatcher” and learn more about Ms. Major.