Prompt #13: Adjective-less
Today’s photo and written prompt provided by by Kirsty Logan:
Write a poem about this photo without using any adjectives.
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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!
Too, too hard. I can’t say much of anything without modifying somehow.
April 12, 2011 at 10:42 pm
Okay. That’s a little better
http://briarcat.wordpress.com/2011/04/13/spare-me/
April 13, 2011 at 3:17 am
Oh, I worry I’ve left a stray adjective somewhere in here. I also think I preferred the version with at least a handful of the buggers left in. But, an interesting exercise! And what a wonderful photo.
Trophy
My spoils surround me. I have created
a trove, ranged the necklet beside the raven
‘Where did you find this?’ His
Paws close over the hilt of the blow-pipe
I wrenched from the claw of a fighter
left in the mud. I lift his hand
Remind him: ‘No prize won,
son, if you didn’t risk everything you had
getting it. Now stand, yes, hold.
Don’t flinch.’
I ready myself to shoot.
April 13, 2011 at 3:03 am
Eeps. This was tough but wonderful. Like trying to make my way through a maze with adjectives being the trap doors.
http://yearofthebooks.wordpress.com/2011/04/13/poem-a-day-13/
April 13, 2011 at 7:14 am
PRITHEE SAVE US FROM THY BOSOM
The Marin IJ, April 12, 2011
You’ve heard this story before. Your breasts
have heard this story before. Our county offices,
our local artists’ yearly exhibit. One employee,
among our quarter million souls, could not bear
to be assaulted every day by the twin breasts
of a woman painted in happy, slapdash strokes,
not nude as the newspaper described her –
she’s wearing a three-or-four-stroke bikini
bottom — and so the County Administrator
or the Director of Human Resources (I forget
which of that pair of artfully named worthies)
felt the county should not, could not condone
a “hostile workplace environment.” The painting
was condemned, nipples banished to the artist’s
garage. So, friends, I beg you, in the interest
of the public weal: suppress your breasts’ hostility,
the assault of all-too-forward nipples. Support
a cleavage of the private from the common good.
April 13, 2011 at 7:34 am
Pingback: Google and the surreal « Tony Linde
And now for something completely different…
Was feeling ill all day today so decided to try an easy approach to today’s prompt: it proved anything but. For the weirdest poem you’re ever likely to encounter, see http://wp.me/pbg4K-3Y.
April 13, 2011 at 8:01 am
Just noticed it is riddled with adjectives. Not got the energy to remove them so will admit to only following half the prompt!
April 13, 2011 at 8:08 am
Maya Angelou
is not.
April 13, 2011 at 8:21 am
Fab photo! A good brain exercise, this.
The Horned God
Cernunnos’ son did stand
and stare
toward future hunts,
and on the chair,
looking back,
stood the Crow,
guarding the door
where clouds flow,
the path the hunt will ride
in flight,
a thousand more
will die tonight,
the book is closed
upon the table,
the boy will carry on
the fable.
April 13, 2011 at 10:52 am
Ooops! “future” modifies “hunts”–very tricky.
April 13, 2011 at 12:58 pm
Buck
It was the doctor who screamed
Rather than the nurse
Though the story changed over time
To make the doctor appear the hero
Someone called the newspaper
The name Devil Boy was born
Just hours after Charlie and his horns
An offer to drown him was declined
His father insisted they let the things grow
And nicknamed him Buck
To protect him against talk of hell
But when Mr. Barnum came calling
The temptations piled up one upon another
April 13, 2011 at 11:06 am
I just can’t help but wonder why. Anyhow – here’s my poem.
Boy With Antlers
here, wear these antlers
stand here, hold this chair
don’t mind the crow
put your book on the table
next to the ink pot
yes, those are supposed to be clouds
drapery hides the wall
stand on the rug made to look like grass
now hold that pose
April 13, 2011 at 11:30 am
I do love well-placed unique adjectives, so this prompt was quite intriguing. I did use a noun improperly as a verb–I admit to really liking that word misusage! Here is my two-minute take:
Shadows and Sepia
Stretched
on the antlers of a question:
Haunt the night on foot
or scoop sky with the
Raven of Destiny?
Candles extinguish,
chairs crumble,
books must conclude…
But this, his childhood
persists, revels,
and ghosts itself
in shadows and sepia.
J. Pratt-Walter
April 13, 2011 at 11:37 am
Blah. Not a good poetry day. Pushing to finish a fiction piece that has taken way too long. Also, I didn’t use the prompt. But I never use the prompt.
http://dorlamoorehouse.com/2011/04/13/napowrimo-day-13-3/
April 13, 2011 at 2:36 pm
Dignity of Wings
Antler head,
you touch the chair
that holds the raven still.
Her head stands taller
than your stretch will ever reach.
April 13, 2011 at 6:03 pm
Pingback: Poem #13 – Enigma « Black Satin
My strange offering for today:
http://jacquezyon.wordpress.com/2011/04/14/poem-13-enigma/
April 13, 2011 at 6:14 pm
Pingback: National Poetry Month Day #13
Wakes
The day was long
This day of dancing.
At dawn the sound
was soft in the mist.
The folks walked behind
witness and celebrant.
The musicians walked along,
gathering from place to place.
The dancers, men of town,
mystery had from fathers.
They bore aloft the antlers
kept by the church,
the horns of animals
not known here.
The maid, the hunter, the hobby.
In a year I shall bear the triangle as once did my father,
so I went along
this year with my raven
as though we were the fool.
After the dance
and the crawl,
after the compline
the men took me and the others
and put on us
marks of our positions.
I was proud to pose with my raven
before the photo
of my triangle.
http://www.artsroundup.com/wp/?p=2934
April 13, 2011 at 6:55 pm
my
what
antlers
and
birds
may chair avec Soulemanic clouds
I
want
my
parrot.
Nuff said
April 13, 2011 at 7:42 pm
This sucker jammed me up for 48 solid hours. I think I have won, but I’m not sure how I feel about my victory. I’d love feedback, truly.
http://feedingthegeek.tumblr.com/post/4628402041/no-reason-with-rhyme
April 14, 2011 at 11:15 pm
Slowly catching up…and of course if someone finds an adjective, please let me know so I can eradicate it.
http://thegermoftheidea.blogspot.com/2011/04/bird.html
April 15, 2011 at 4:25 am