Prompt #03: Voicing
Today’s prompt brought to you by Kirsty Logan:
Inspired by the photo above, write a poem that includes the words ‘voicing’, ‘shucked’, and ‘slant’.”
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Reminders for Participants: You can post your poem below in the comments, offer a link back to your site where the poem is posted, or comment about the experience of writing the poem (without actually posting the poem). If you’re going to comment on other participant’s poems, please remember that this is not a critique space — comments should be kept thoughtful and supportive. Lastly, remember you don’t have to use the prompt to write your poem — they’re here for your inspiration but they’re certainly not a requirement.
Let the Wild Poeming Being!
http://nikkimagennis.blogspot.com/2011/04/sunday-poem.html
a very quickie!
April 3, 2011 at 12:35 am
She thinks out her requirements heavily,
piecing together the best parts
of fifty men.
It’s the ultimate illusion of grandeur
voicing her own opinion this time
not the third wheel
She controls her destiny
She can slant her own world view
if only this were possible
This will never be the man she loved
and She was the one shucked in the first place.
April 3, 2011 at 6:25 am
No prompts for me today either, just life, unfolding.
NO
A woman spread-legged in the middle of a bathroom, shoes puddled with piss, a yellow flood of it washing across the tile floor, soaking the rug dark. She clutches her skirt around her hips, hands knotted in the cloth, knuckles white, underwear tangled around her knees, an unreachable two feet from the toilet. She’s still a few weeks from sixty years old. Look. Look, goddammit. Not at the piss. At the expression on the face twisted over her shoulder — terror. Terror. Her face wouldn’t be different if she were being disemboweled. Sure, there’s a name for this — Alzheimer’s — but that’s not much of a fucking explanation, is it? This woman — debased, wordless, trapped in a lake of her own warm piss — she spoke half a page of languages, wrestled climbers up the wedding-cake cornices of the Andes, inspired a generation of students, gave her heart to four children. So, why? Tell me. And what the fuck are you going to do about it? Write a poem?
April 3, 2011 at 6:38 am
I went off-prompt again. And I wrote a long-ish poem, which is unusual for me: http://dorlamoorehouse.com/2011/04/03/napowrimo-day-3-2/
April 3, 2011 at 6:45 am
http://whererainbowsgotodie.blogspot.com/2011/04/april-poetry-challenge-day-3-now-on.html
April 3, 2011 at 8:50 am
Pingback: Poem-a-Day #4 « Shanna Germain
Today’s poem was a surprise, based on the prompt. Guess that’s a good thing
http://yearofthebooks.wordpress.com/2011/04/03/poem-a-day-4/
April 3, 2011 at 9:15 am
1.
Could I die
sitting on the low wooden step
in a patch of
welcome warm sun,
that unexpected April day?
Coffee falling from my hands
or cooling by my hip
Face tilted up.
Orange glow
fading to white.
2.
Could I die
when a rare wave
catches me in bed reading.
Pulls my eyelids closed
drags my book,
fluttering,
to the floor.
Not disturbing
the cat
in the crook of my leg.
Mary Beth Frezon — 3 April 2011
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http://www.artsroundup.com/wp/?p=2818
triggered by the NaPoWriMo prompt today. More may come here but this was what I had by lunchtime. LOL – it also seemed to generate a separate list of “how I don’t want to die” blips in my head!
April 3, 2011 at 9:33 am
My third is at: http://wp.me/pbg4K-2v. Not the direction I planned but, then again, is it ever?
April 3, 2011 at 9:37 am
i wrote a poem using the words as inspiration instead of the photo. hope that was okay. i also used a poetic form called tau-ku. it’s a three lined poem with 6, 2, 8 syllables. have a great day.
April 3, 2011 at 9:52 am
I shucked the prompt, voicing my own slant:
Barefoot shoe salesman
A veritable Pnin
Telling me how Kennewick Man ran
His Jean-Luc Picard nose and bald pate
Lithic point embedded in his left hip
This is my earth beneath your feet
Bag with which one douches
Selling cock rings as power balance bands
For I am an actual ninja
Not vernacular like Sheen
And I will sew a goddess Swoosh
Onto these Five Fingers
Because I get my shoes for free
36 min 28 sec
April 3, 2011 at 9:58 am
Pingback: Poem#3 – Untitled « Black Satin
I used the prompt today, and, like some of you, ended up in unexpected territory. But, like Shanna said, that’s a good thing:)
April 3, 2011 at 12:09 pm
Oops, forgot the link…
http://jacquezyon.wordpress.com/2011/04/03/poem3-untitled/
April 3, 2011 at 12:10 pm
Clothilde’s Dilemma
she could not decide
between the red peau de soie
and the periwinklle velvet,
had shucked off all her clothes,
bathed at leisure,
selected her best dancing pumps,
hoping William would soon choose
which persona he fancied
for this evening’s entertainment.
Kneeling at William’s side,
she would slant him a glance, but
feared voicing her questions,
afraid the shiver in her tone
would make him lose his head.
He might select the mask
of the old colonel,
bearded and moustached,
distinguished, but
not quite the thing for red silk.
Or perhaps the younger face,
dark hair and low brow—
no, for tonight’s performance.
Clothilde clasped hands to plead
but William could not look at her.
Carol A. Stephen
April 3, 2011 at 2:36 pm
Cockeyed Optimism
It doesn’t matter which talking head elaborates—
voicing malice and misinformation—
dress it up any way you please,
this slant takes us sliding
backwards, and feigning ignorance
is not bliss.
Shucked of any pretense,
it is time to stand,
naked in truth,
and if that doesn’t tip the scale,
it won’t be the emperor
who is missing something.
April 3, 2011 at 3:28 pm
Great take on the prompt, Kit.
April 4, 2011 at 12:42 am
Grazie, Tony.
April 4, 2011 at 6:24 am
Poems are happening. None, to date, are shareable.
April 3, 2011 at 3:43 pm
I’m noticing a theme – it takes me a bit to lock in, but once I do, it’s all over (in a good way). Day three in the books!
http://thegermoftheidea.blogspot.com/search/label/NaPoWriMo%202011
April 3, 2011 at 3:43 pm
Sometimes it’s like
my heart got on a train
and left
the town of my chest.
How many springs,
how many summers
will I feel like
an old autumn?
April 3, 2011 at 4:09 pm
I decided that after all, I liked today’s effort. You can find it here: http://teresanoelleroberts.blogspot.com/2011/04/not-without-poetry-challenge.html
It’s prompted by some random silliness my husband and I shared this morning, but went far, far afield.
April 3, 2011 at 4:39 pm
Sorry, couldn’t get into today’s prompt. But here’s today’s offering using the prompt from Poetic Asides.
http://lanijo.com/poetry/without-me
April 3, 2011 at 5:38 pm
Today’s effort, written to the prompt, also had a bit of help from the Twilight Zone.
http://otherwaysofspeaking.blogspot.com/2011/04/her-perfect-man.html
April 3, 2011 at 7:15 pm
from his perspective
in another room she had shucked her dress
thinking she would surprise him
while at the same time he set his trap
voicing his concerns the night before
over whiskeys and gins
she wants more than he could provide
her eye turns readily towards other men
who always have something better to offer
who put a slant in the room that she can’t resist falling down
away from him
but now she has to choose
bare boned, giddy
which head to put on the man she would give her heart
from her perspective
oh the possibilities of a headless man
his personality and good looks shucked
like an oyster
I dance around him
imagining what would sprout
at his neck
in response to trying this
or that
which voicing would arouse
the perfect face to appear
I press my naked body against
the body and feel only what I take
without intrusion by his
expressions of love
the nonsense he thinks I want to hear
don’t have to lie into his eyes
he is all mine to do with what I want
better yet, once I am acquainted with
his body, I will choose a head for him
I shall order a hundred from factories
all over the world
trying each one on
as it pleases me
maybe I’ll keep them on a
bureau in my room
and match them
with the whims of the evening
this one I’ll take for gin slips
that one for whiskey and absinthe
and I’ll slant his hat
as I see fit
oh the possibilities of a headless man
April 3, 2011 at 7:31 pm
My immediate response to the prompt was drippingly erotic. And way too much on-the-nose.
Setting that aside, I labored mightily to little effect, a hurricane’s effort producing a little fart in the breeze. Some days are like that.
http://feedingthegeek.tumblr.com/post/4333206465/lazy-mans-lament
April 3, 2011 at 9:36 pm
My 3rd, only vaguely reflecting the prompt:
Windless
It still reminds me of when we first met
to see you off at our apartment door:
the sideway sunlight’s sharper than before,
the young sequoia too golden to forget.
A hug, a kiss: like I don’t know you yet.
I hear you hurry down the corridor
for four or five steps, but not anymore.
You’re beautiful just like an airborne jet.
When we had no fixed home, we had one sky,
one route we chose, or we could drift apart
so easily, it felt, where strong winds blew.
And now we have to close our eyes and fly
inside each other to retrieve our heart
between these walls the night has painted blue.
(I wouldn’t romanticize the state of “freed birds” when there’s tens of thousands of people who lost their homes, but on the other hand I keep questioning the way many of us live – especially in big cities – getting stuck in cages by owning so much more than necessary)
April 3, 2011 at 9:51 pm
I didn’t think I could do this prompt, and posted another, but after sitting with the words all day, this is what came out.
http://lanijo.com/poetry/if-i-only
April 3, 2011 at 10:20 pm
Shuck the muck
I tell you I’ve had enough
we walk slanted
from head to toe
voicing our discontent.
April 3, 2011 at 10:39 pm
Day # 3 for me: http://jamesestes.tumblr.com/post/4334450447/hand-moving-across-paper
April 3, 2011 at 10:59 pm
Throat slit
slanting through carotid and jugular
Voicing no more
brain shucked, waiting to be slurped down
Where is my dress?
April 4, 2011 at 6:37 am
Again – work got in the way – sorry this is late. My day three offering, without using the prompt
http://mizadventurez.blogspot.com/2011/04/day-three.html
April 4, 2011 at 7:59 am
Pingback: Shanna Germain
Mannequin
Always the incomplete man
I lose my head whenever
A naked women enters the room
And kneels
April 4, 2011 at 1:41 pm
Sorry I’m a day late (almost two, LOL). Here’s my short take:
“She Just Can’t Make Up His Mind” at
http://erobintica.blogspot.com/2011/04/day-late-day-3-poem.html
April 4, 2011 at 5:55 pm
Voicing her opinion to the photog, Zoe said “Glad you shucked the damb Charlie Sheen head, got anything with a bit of a Shatner slant?”
with apologies……
April 6, 2011 at 7:46 pm
Voicing
My string is being plucked and I play
just one note now, the other strings
other wires have broken. Conductor, sit me out, bring
no suitable replacements. Shucked, they only bray,
they do not have the voicing I need, they lead me astray;
leave my notes slanted. My songs have no zing -
this is what it’s like to die but no death will life bring.
you & I – we had no young, no symphonies to gray.
This is my thoughts, the recurring haunting refrain ¬¬-
Conductor, as you placed your instrument on the shelf
Letting me age til I was no longer a selph -
you & I – we had no young; You chose unwisely to abstain
when all I want is for you to play; I don’t mean to complain.
It’s just I don’t want to die, no symphonies to engrain.
Ariel
April 3, 2011
April 17, 2011 at 10:49 am