A poem-a-day for National Poetry Month

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’.”


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!

37 responses

  1. 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

  2. No prompts for me today either, just life, unfolding.


    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

  3. dorlamoorehouse

    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

  4. Pingback: Poem-a-Day #4 « Shanna Germain

  5. Today’s poem was a surprise, based on the prompt. Guess that’s a good thing 🙂


    April 3, 2011 at 9:15 am

  6. 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.


    Could I die
    when a rare wave
    catches me in bed reading.
    Pulls my eyelids closed
    drags my book,
    to the floor.
    Not disturbing
    the cat
    in the crook of my leg.

    Mary Beth Frezon — 3 April 2011



    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

  7. 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

  8. 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

  9. 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

  10. Pingback: Poem#3 – Untitled « Black Satin

  11. 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

  12. Carol A. Stephen

    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

  13. 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

  14. Poems are happening. None, to date, are shareable.

    April 3, 2011 at 3:43 pm

  15. 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!


    April 3, 2011 at 3:43 pm

  16. Jennifer Pratt-Walter

    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

  17. 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

  18. Sorry, couldn’t get into today’s prompt. But here’s today’s offering using the prompt from Poetic Asides.


    April 3, 2011 at 5:38 pm

  19. Today’s effort, written to the prompt, also had a bit of help from the Twilight Zone.


    April 3, 2011 at 7:15 pm

  20. wenweisso

    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

  21. 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.


    April 3, 2011 at 9:36 pm

  22. Kosuke Miyata

    My 3rd, only vaguely reflecting the prompt:


    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

  23. 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.


    April 3, 2011 at 10:20 pm

  24. chloe

    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

  25. Kam Leitner

    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

  26. Again – work got in the way – sorry this is late. My day three offering, without using the prompt


    April 4, 2011 at 7:59 am

  27. Pingback: Shanna Germain

  28. 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

  29. Robin Elizabeth Sampson

    Sorry I’m a day late (almost two, LOL). Here’s my short take:

    “She Just Can’t Make Up His Mind” at


    April 4, 2011 at 5:55 pm

  30. Scott

    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

  31. Ariel


    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.

    April 3, 2011

    April 17, 2011 at 10:49 am