Write a poem according to the following specifications:
10 lines long
the following 8 words must appear in the poem (noun, verb, whatever, however--just put them there):
lifetime
wolf
cloudbank
spare
whisper
damage
wrap
risk
Only one of the above 8 words can appear in a given line, and then only once.
That means: at least EIGHT of the lines will have exactly ONE of the words (either of the other two may have up to 1 each).
and...GO!
A life might end-or begin-
ReplyDeleteIn a lifetime
A wolf runs through
A cloudbank, tail of grey flame
Spare, shaggy, misty, luminous
Body a whisper
The fog doesn't show the damage
It wraps itself around him
Accepting the risk.
Later, a child looks up and thinks a passing cloud looks like a wolf
note: the tail end of the last line is the fault of the blog, not the line.
ReplyDeleteyou smile wolfishly at my eyes my cheeks my hair,
ReplyDeleteyou grab my hand like a lifeline.
your eyes are damaged; all the irises
do is mitigate their hollowness. your interior is spare;
i imagine a bare lightbulb swinging from your ceiling,
paint-chipped, the room wrapped in shadows cast.
your eyes whisper the echoes of a smile.
i run the risk of slipping home if i look too long, but
home is a challenge - feet losing footing like scaling a cloudbank.
you grab my hand for a lifetime.
similar note:
ReplyDeleteall one word lines belong to the line above.
fuck you, blogger.
One can't help confusing a cloudbank
ReplyDeleteWith a lifetime
Spent
Whispering
Wrapped in strange tidings, ever on the verge of rain
Risk a thing not thought of
Danger a haunting thing, thought of and dreamed of
Even wolves consume what mushrooms leave
Sparing nothing, judging nothing
Better to bear the Triste Figura on one's rusty shield
the second of my two instructive examples (because I'm just so fucking good at this) is entitled "Don Quixote, Caballero de la Triste Figura."
ReplyDeleteAll lines that begin with captital letters are lines; all others are tails of other lines; all marmosets not specifically involved in the culling of the strep population are reminded to wipe the dingleberries off the anuses of the nearest taxidermist. No questions asked.
I save all my dreampennies in a cloudbank
ReplyDeleteEnough to fill a lifetime full
of countless journeys through a single spare room
My mom says it’s a fiscal risk—no interest, but
I have bad times with damaged goods
Which are just bads in bad disguises
Like wolves dressed up as sheep or the other way around
I whisper to the floorboards
My lips wrapped in chocolate secrets that no one else can hear
Risk puts the Hershey’s in my milk
"other way around" "no one else can hear" both one line.
ReplyDeleteThe wrap of ravages
ReplyDeleteSeldom spare the gelling heart
The damage not yet done
Plays sickly inside
with thick cloudbanks to follow
But you wolf it down
And you risk.
“come along”
you whisper
“at least for a lifetime”
p.s. I like this kind of post. Do more of them. NOW! :)
ReplyDeleteAt around ten o'clock, the first whispers came down,
ReplyDeleteDarting from the emu run to the turtle tank,
Wrapping around the tails of yawning alligators,
But sparing the crotchety baboons, who hadn't yet had their coffee.
When the gorillas heard, they threatened to sue, after falling off their perches at great personal risk.
Hurling themselves into the Plexiglas had caused maddeningly little damage.
Leaping a cloudbank and rolling headfirst into the duck pond,
The news splashed over the fence and landed on the wolf.
He shook himself off, polished his badge again, and looked around sternly.
That old zookeeper had been the delectable find of a lifetime.