I'm in a strop today. I feel like I'm wasting my time doing this poem a day thing. I should really be getting on with the book. And although I like to read it, as a leisure activity, poetry's never been my thing. So, I'm thinking, I'll give it another five days, and if I still feel I'm wasting my time, and not achieving anything worthwhile, I'll give it up and get on with the bread and butter stuff. It's not that I haven't been enjoying this exercise it's just that it takes up so much energy, even when I'm trying to ignore it!
Anyway, today on the Read Write Poem site they say:
RWP member Robert Peake has shared with us a prompt he used recently with one of his established writing groups:
Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to:
Use at least twelve words from this list: flap, winter, torch, pail, jug, strum, lever, massage, octopus, marionette, stow, pumice, rug, jam, limp, campfire, startle, wattle, bruise, chimney, tome, talon, fringe, walker;
Include something that tastes terrible;
Include some part (from a few words to several lines) of a previous poem that didn’t quite pan out; and
Include a sound that makes you happy.
Write a poem.
I haven't actually written a poem, but an infantile foot stomp and whine.
I think I’m not a poet.
I can’t lever meaning from a bruise
of stow, tome, octopus;
and produce verse like a short order chef
with a burger press. I have nothing to strum.
Pressured I flap like the fringe of a marionette
in hair and make-up. I'm in a jam.
I feel like a walker in a cycle race.
This push to rush hits my guts
like sour milk. I limp to the finish,
neither hare nor tortoise.