Drove up from Georgia to Ohio last night, so I'm writing on 3 hours sleep this morning. Hopefully, I'll write something that makes at least a little sense. Then again, since yesterday's poem was titled "Dream," maybe it's better if I don't.

For today's prompt, I want you to take the phrase "And then (blank)," replace the blank with a word or phrase, make that the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. Some example titles could be: "And then Godzilla attacked Tokyo," "And then McDonald's opened a store on the moon," "And then nothing," "And then everything," "And then you probably have an even better idea for a poem title," etc.

Here's my attempt for today:

"And then he fell down"

A fog is another kind of ghost;
its breath presses the earth
and asks forgiveness before
the sun wishes it away. Our
dreams are clouds are ghosts
swimming across lakes we
imagined could drown us.

We find him French-kissing
under water; we find him
in love with our daughters;
we arrive with just enough
time to wave them off and
wonder if and wonder if
as if it could have been us.

*****

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Friday, November 20, 2009 3:01:23 PM (GMT Standard Time, UTC+00:00)    Comments [70] 

For today's prompt, I want you to write an attachment poem. There are all kinds of attachments you could write about: physical, emotional, digital, etc. You could even write about your fear of attachment OR fear of no attachments OR fear of seeming to be afraid of attachment when really you're afraid of not being attached but you don't want other people to know that you know that...where was I?...oh yeah, write an attachment poem. Write it now.

Here's my attempt for the day:

"Dream"

She walks into his room and starts talking
about how he's begun to float. "It's getting
a little out of hand," she says as she ties
some rope around his waist. He doesn't try
to stop her. In fact, he notices his feet
have left the ground completely. "See,"
she says, "Good thing I brought this rope."
He hopes it isn't serious as he floats
out the window. "I have you," she says,
"even if gravity doesn't." He wants to thank
her, but he can't remember how to talk.
He just rises higher as she continues to walk
beneath him, his legs and arms spread apart.
Below, she hides in the shadow of his heart.

*****

What do you get when you take a little poetry and a little dictionary and you mix them together? You get John Drury's Poetry Dictionary. It's filled with a load of poetic information. Click here to learn more about this and other writing titles today. 

Thursday, November 19, 2009 2:48:15 PM (GMT Standard Time, UTC+00:00)    Comments [132] 

After today's poem, we'll be 60% of the way through November. I can't believe how fast this month is moving. I've been dropping in and reading poems in the comments, and I'm looking forward to reading your chapbook manuscripts after this challenge is over. (Also, thanks for the kind words about my prompts and poems this month. Much appreciated.)

For today's prompt, I want you to write a slow poem. (If you want you can re-read that sentence in your best "slow motion" voice.) I'll let you decide what a slow poem should be.

Here's my attempt for today:

"Let us not go then, you and I"

Maybe we can feel the world turn
or watch the universe burn. We
could find the star giving the most

light as our hot sun sets the moon
on fire tonight. Shooting stars are
just meteoroids burning up

in the mesosphere; so keep your
fire near, dear, and we'll just stay here--
both burning so bright and so clear.

*****

Learn from the instructors at the Vermont College MFA Program in Words Overflown by Stars, edited by David Jauss. Click here to read more about this and other writing titles.

Wednesday, November 18, 2009 2:04:21 PM (GMT Standard Time, UTC+00:00)    Comments [194] 

Sigh. Tuesday morning, and we've already had connectivity issues and a Turkish hacker (going by the handle Cyb3rking). But poetry is a powerful force that keeps on keeping on despite wind, rain, sleet, junk mail, global warming, asteroids, infomercials, etc.

As mentioned above, today is Tuesday, which means we've got a "Two for Tuesday" offering. Remember: With "Two for Tuesday" prompts, you can write to either one or both (or none, if that's how you roll). Here are the two prompts:

1. Write an explosion poem.

2. Write an implosion poem.

Here's my attempt for the day:

"Black holes"

How they happen: A giant star
explodes. The explosion is called
supernova, which scatters most
of the star across outerspace
and leaves behind a dead remnant.

How they work: Alive, nuclear
fusion a giant star creates
balances the inward pull caused
by the gravity of its mass.
A giant dead remnant creates
no counter balance. It just sucks
so hard that even light cannot
escape, though only if objects
pass a point of no return called
darkly the event horizon.

Why they matter: Black holes cannot
be observed from the outside, so
we can only know they exist
by how they consume the burning
light produced by other objects.

*****

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Tuesday, November 17, 2009 2:15:40 PM (GMT Standard Time, UTC+00:00)    Comments [168] 

Oh yeah! We're more than half-way to the finish line; kind of hard to believe, eh?

For today's prompt, I want you to take the phrase "Clouds (blank)," replace the blank with a word or phrase, make that the title of your poem, and write the poem. Some examples: "Clouds float," "Clouds rain," "Clouds don't exist," "Clouds block my sunshine," "Clouds are cool," etc.

Here's my attempt for the day:

"Clouds that don't bother to rain"

They hover over us and save
themselves for somewhere else.

We watch them pass like ghosts
searching for a better place to

haunt. We want nothing better
for our time than to see clouds

float to the horizon, followed
close by everything ever after.  

*****

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Monday, November 16, 2009 1:58:37 PM (GMT Standard Time, UTC+00:00)    Comments [170] 

For today's prompt, I want you to write a hanging poem. There are a lot of things that can hang (some a bit more gruesome than others). You can hang clothes, pots and pans, pictures, and other inanimate objects; there's, of course, the kind of hangings that end lives; or you can even leave someone hanging (as Tammy pointed out to me). So, I'm not going to leave anyone hanging anymore today.

Here's my attempt for the day:

"Hanging ghosts on trees"

All he needs is string, paper, and trashbags,
some branches to hold. If he reaches up,
he can tie them. In his dreams, paddle boats
are crossing the lake, and she swims across
to find him. They meet on the bridge that runs
over the stream where they would build a house
if they could. They come from both sides and meet
in the middle as the bridge lets loose. They
both, holding hands, fall and feel the cold rush
of water. And then, they see them hanging
from trees, blowing in the wind like autumn
leaves: 1,000 ghosts, trying to break free.

*****

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Sunday, November 15, 2009 6:05:40 PM (GMT Standard Time, UTC+00:00)    Comments [139] 

Sorry for the late start this morning. I was enjoying a rare chance to wake up and have breakfast with the family unit. Weekends only come once a week, you know.

For today's prompt, I want you to write a poem involving lines. There are several possible lines you could write about: shopping lines, pick-up lines, lines from movies or songs, lines drawn in the sand, lines that should not be crossed (physically or emotionally), and so on. If all else fails, remember: All poems consist of lines.

Here's my attempt for the day:

"Fire lines"

If only the fire burned slower;
if only we weren't surrounded;
if only we weren't all about
consuming and being consumed,

maybe then, baby, we'd gather
the earth around us and push back;
maybe then we'd try slowing down;
maybe then we would be content

to circle this fire, both arm's length
apart, and watch it fail to jump
the line, watch it with abandoned
abandon as it slowly died.

*****

Want to boost your creativity with helpful prompts and useful tips? Click here to check out The Pocket Muse, by Monica Wood.

Saturday, November 14, 2009 3:28:36 PM (GMT Standard Time, UTC+00:00)    Comments [149] 

It's Friday the 13th! For whatever reason, weird stuff always seems to happen to me on these days; I hope today is an exception--unless, for once, it's a good weird thing.

For today's prompt, I want you to write a renewable poem. I suppose you could write about renewable energy or renewable books (from the library). But there are other ways to come at this, too. Vows are renewable, as are promises and oaths. In fact, if you think about it long enough, it's hard to think of things that aren't renewable. Now, get writing.

Here's my attempt for the day:

"Phoenix"

She stands beside the fire with her
smile wired to the shadows licking
her face. He's not sure how to read
what she wants, so he doesn't try.

Instead, he walks over and pulls
her close. Enough with the guessing,
he thinks before leaning to kiss
those lips, cracking open with heat.

*****

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Friday, November 13, 2009 1:46:57 PM (GMT Standard Time, UTC+00:00)    Comments [165] 

Quick Note: Please refrain from posting multiple previously written (old) poems in the comments. While I'm fine with 6 brand new poems, posting several old poems is kind of not in the spirit of creating. Of course, it is fine to post an older poem every so often, but let's avoid an avalanche of previously written material. Anyone with Internet access can start a personal blog for free and do that kind of thing there.

*****

So yeah, we're 12 days into the challenge, which means we're 40% of the way through it. Feels like we just started, but here we are with 12 (or more) poems.

For today's prompt, I want you to take the phrase "If only (blank)," replace the blank with a word or phrase, make that the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. Example titles might be "If only we remembered our umbrellas," "If only the train came on time," or "If only, if only." The possibilities are endless.

Here's my attempt for the day:

"If only we lived in Kansas"

Holes worn into the knees of her blue jeans,
she walks around with a buckeye-filled shoe
and, with her hair pulled back, says, "We come here
once a year to collect these and throw them
at my uncle." She hands me an empty
shoe and walks away bare-footed. I walk
around the buckeye tree, but there are no
nuts to be found. Then, a boy approaches
with a stick, which he throws into the leaves.
Down fall several buckeyes. The boy scoops
them up and runs off, leaving his stick, which
I throw into the leaves making buckeyes
fall. I throw the stick again and again
and again thinking of how proud she'll be
with a thousand buckeye-filled shoes, thinking
of how her uncle will really get it
this year, thinking this is love. When the ground
around the tree is completely covered,
I realize that I have buried her shoe.

Thursday, November 12, 2009 12:47:10 PM (GMT Standard Time, UTC+00:00)    Comments [148] 

For today's prompt, I want you to write a construction poem. When you think of construction, you may think of cranes and bulldozers and safety goggles, but there are many other forms of construction--both big and small (and not all are by humans).

Here's my attempt for the day:

"So we built a house"

In a forest. Beside a stream.
It had a front porch and windows
in the kitchen above the sink.
We surrounded the house with eight
birdhouses. We made a garden
and shared our food with the other
woodland creatures. And then, people
followed the stream to our home and
liked what they saw. So they cut roads
through the forest to build their own
remote houses. They brought children
and work with them. They brought phone and
electric companies, even
parking lots and landfills. And yes,
the Internet arrived a bit
late (as you would expect). As we
washed our dishes by hand we watched,
and eventually, we moved.

Wednesday, November 11, 2009 1:47:08 PM (GMT Standard Time, UTC+00:00)    Comments [168]