Tuesday, November 30, 2021
Monday, November 29, 2021
Hello friends, it's me, Shay/Fireblossom with your weekly word list writing prompt! This time, the list is taken from the writings of poet Sylvia Plath, and includes words from many of her best known poems, and some from other, lesser known works.
Saturday, November 27, 2021
Friday, November 26, 2021
Tuesday, November 23, 2021
"Take the ribbon from your hair
shake it loose and let it fall"
The moon drowses now, in her compartment
made of asters on a train to the sea
and she seeks in her dream the department
of missent lilies, mislaid carelessly.
Her petition is dancing so sweetly
that the gods search their memories for tears
to stitch where her silver crescent appears.
The moon is blemished now, by dawn and time
and the train master calls for her sorrow
to be served as gin with a wedge of lime
and then forwarded on to tomorrow
where what they can't buy, the asters borrow
a mixing of winds as a bandage to bind
her with thread of forgetting, serpentined.
for Tuesday Poetics: Fay Collins
art by Fay Collins
this poem is a rhyme royal
Monday, November 22, 2021
Hello and welcome to a new prompt I am going to host here at Word Garden. Every Monday at midnight for as long as I shall dig it, and excepting major holidays, I will provide a list of words derived from a themed source.
Please use at least 3 of the 20 words provided to write either a poem of any style or length, or a "flash 55", which is a piece consisting of exactly 55 words not counting the title. Variations of the words are allowed. Simply leave the link for your post in the comment section. Prompt remains "live" thru Friday.
This week's 20 words are all derived from the writings of F. Scott Fitzgerald. Here they are:
Saturday, November 20, 2021
Thursday, November 18, 2021
Tuesday, November 16, 2021
Friday, November 12, 2021
Tuesday, November 9, 2021
Sunday, November 7, 2021
Saturday, November 6, 2021
Friday, November 5, 2021
Thursday, November 4, 2021
Wednesday, November 3, 2021
Some mistake the river for a sidewalk and drown.
Lines are down.
Across the city, cement birds fly out of telephones and crash heavily into framed landscapes which fall from the wall.
At the park, work continues.
Cement children appear, presenting cement bouquets.
Cement adults are charmed.
The sun, also cement now, shines down, strangely cheerful.
Look at the city we have made, say the workmen.
Come and live with us
Among the statues.
For dverse poetics. A--ahem--"concrete" poem I wrote in 1980. I realize a new poem was expected, but i just couldn't resist. Sorry not sorry. :-P
Note: from what I understand, the difference between cement and concrete is that concrete has stones and stuff in it. You can pave your walk with either, but avoid using abstract. Still not sorry.