Find an existing piece of prose that you've written--a journal entry, a section of a short story, a paragraph of an essay, a letter, your atmospheric description of a setting, or something else--and re-format it with a sense of line. Create line breaks to add pacing, drama, emphasis, suspense, or new associations.
Two rules:
1. You're not allowed to add anything new. What was there originally is all you've got to work with.
2. You may cut as much of the original as you want.
Lastly: Post your new creation, your Prose-turned-Poem, in the "Comments" box of this post by Friday, Feb. 22. Be sure to attach your name to the post.
Two rules:
1. You're not allowed to add anything new. What was there originally is all you've got to work with.
2. You may cut as much of the original as you want.
Lastly: Post your new creation, your Prose-turned-Poem, in the "Comments" box of this post by Friday, Feb. 22. Be sure to attach your name to the post.
City Light Snow
ReplyDeleteThe large, frost encrusted bay window
of my room does not help at all
to keep a sneaky winter’s chill
isolated to the outdoors.
And yet, I can still enjoy
the season for the wonders
that it brings.
The scene before me is picturesque
with the calm of a quiet, snowy night.
Exempting the stars and moon
there is no light
but fat snowflakes, still visible ,
turn the sky a shade of dusty rose,
as they take the gentle hue
from the city lights below
This is really long, I'm sorry. :)
ReplyDelete"Pitter Pattering Droplets Racing"
With a blanket draped around her shoulders,
and the slight never noticed buzz
emanating from the lamp, and the gentle
tapping of the raindrops on the windows
almost begging for entrance, if not acceptance;
A decision was made.
She decided it was the perfect
time to catch up on her homework and reading,
Because she knows
that times like these are rare,
and that this moment should not be allowed
to simply pass.
Some people would call it gloomy,
like Eeyore's home;
others would call it repetitive and annoying,
like the constant ticking of a clock.
However,
Eventually everyone would admit
that it is actually a very peaceful,
very calming noise.
When it is raining out, and all that is heard
in the entire house
is the pitter patter against the windows
and roof of the raindrops racing to hit the surface,
as well as the occasional whispering
of car tires splattering rainwater against the pavement
while in motion, the sudden feeling of ease
washes over.
Then it is obvious that all hardships, like storms
Will pass. But no one ever thinks of this connection,
it is found to be an extremely cliche simile.
A thunderstorm turns your room or house into your own personal
Fortress of Solitude;
Therefore the midst of the storm happens to be the best
Time to curl up with a book or a movie and forget
the existence of everyone else,
just for a little while.
Moments like that, in which we lose ourselves
within a fictitious world
are cherished.
Said moments are simply not possible
unless cooped
in the house due to rather
damp and grey weather conditions.
Fool's Gold
ReplyDeleteI was a fool.
I thought I loved him.
I thought he loved me.
His smile
It was a toxin
And I lapped it up.
The sparkle in his eyes,
I thought it was gold.
And I believed him.
Then a fit of rage,
Humiliation
And confusion.
My laptop, held in my hands,
Half like a teddy bear
Half like a shield.
His shocked
And innocent face
I felt stupid for loving him.
So I hit him.
I hit him hard.
And he stopped moving.
I ran from the hatred,
From the pain, the memories,
I ran from the truth.
I was a fool.
I thought it was gold.
Gold only for a fool.
-Kym Parke
Permanent refuge
ReplyDeleteI remember the colour
Of crisp, fresh morning clouds with
A backdrop of baby blue,
Contrasted beautifully
With the mountains below it.
I’ve never seen a colour
Quite like that, such a pure sky.
I have never been so close
To the celestial blanket
That covers my life, and it
Reminds me of the good times.
I was an innocent child,
With my face plastered
To the window, knowing I
Was close to you. But of course,
You never knew.
Now those times are gone, and from
All the memories I can
Only see a ghost. I’ve changed
You’ve changed.
But only one thing will never change:
The colour of the sky.
-Priscila Penner
Safe and sound
ReplyDeleteNo matter that the world is on fire,
We can hide; we don’t have to stay around,
Let’s bury ourselves and stay safe and sound.
You are the only thing left that I desire,
Cover our ears, people they all conspire,
We can build a secret home underground,
They can search forever, never we’ll be found,
Just close your eyes it’s time to retire.
Our problems will vanish by morning light,
The people cannot take away our breath,
A love like ours can survive any life,
Always we will put on a bitter fight,
Pain can pierce our skin, but won’t lead to death,
Our love will keep, you promised with a knife.
Institutionalized
ReplyDeleteEveryone that lives in this life of ours is
Waiting.
Waiting for their big break,
Starving for their lunch break,
Anticipating heart break,
Feeling heart ache.
We are so comfortable,
So accustomed to the waiting room,
That when an opportunity arises-
a risk. A chance,
We dont take it.
We're scared,
Institutionalized.
So acclimatized to the waiting room that we know no other way.
The waiting room is,
A death trap.
Its four walls are held in place,
By the hurt we have witnessed,
The pain we have felt.
The trick of the
Waiting
Room, is that you are just as responsible
For leaving,
As you are for staying.
The only people who
Always
Escape, are the little children.
No knowledge of real evil,
No reason to fear the unknown.
They believe in the hope of a beautiful possibility,
Not the chance of a disastrous failure.
Perhaps the real adults of our world, are
In fact, the children.
Fixed Obscurity
ReplyDeleteStars first light is atramentous
For stars first nature is not adventurous
And white light
Is quite
Anxious
To prove itself
Valorous
In the eyes of those who deem stars:
The darkness
- Sarah Porter
In The Dark
ReplyDeleteTRAPPED, STUCK
in a room, can BARELY
BREATHE, the walls SUCK
the breath out of me.
QUICK steps HEAVILY HIT
the ground, sound
MUFFLED through the wall.
metal keys make DEADLY
music as they ClUMSILY
DANCE together. SCRAMBLE,
WRINKLING white sheets
until my back HITS
a wall. STARE,
the silver knob STARTS
MOVING, SLOWLY
then MUCH FASTER
the door SWINGS
open, color ATTACKS
my eyes. FREEDOM,
attacks my eyes.
-Chanise Walker
*CLUMSILY
Delete"One day, but not today"
ReplyDeleteHer heart sank,
right into the pit of her stomach.
She was about to make
the biggest mistake,of her life.
The gown was made by designer Sophia Tolli.
It flowed from her shoulders,
delicately sinking into the floor.
With each step forward,
came more regret.
And there he was,
standing at the alter.
Her beauty filled the room,
catching the attention of many eager eyes.
She wasn't ready for this.
He desired her,
but she didn't desire him.
-Emilie Poirier
What's it like
ReplyDeleteLiving in the cold world
Of empty redemption?
We all know that soon enough
Your blood will be a steady stream
Of blatant misery.
And who said
I was your debt to pay?
Because I sure as hell didn't.
I never asked
For you to save my soul,
So just push me back
Into the hollow pit of nothingness.
We would rather be left unarmed
And empty handed,
Nothing but the brutality
Of our battered wings
To keep us warm.
I'm not one of your commanding officers,
You can't guide my eyes.
How do you expect me
To follow in your footsteps
If you’re walking on your toes?
You'd be smart
to put your ammunition down,
Because my hand
Is too good to fold.
How can you simply stand there
ReplyDeleteAnd allow for these things to happen?
Are you scared? Do you even care?
Is there any human emotion brewing
Or are your insides filled to the brim
With the toxic liquids of contempt?
Must you continue to trudge forward by yourself
Without making a stand for others?
The evil heart is often one accompanied,
And these hearts come in droves
Forcing those who wish to help
Into isolation
While others are left in misery.
Tantalizing
ReplyDeleteThe colour of coffee and hot
chocolate. Your eyes so tender and
loving.
The colour of roses to the one
you love. Your lips so soft and
welcoming.
The colour of night, dark
and enigmatic. Your hair so silky and
thick.
The sound of a baritone, deep and
alluring. Your voice like molten
sugar. Driving me
senseless.
The taste of your lips like candy to a
child. So innocent and
pure. Quenching my
desire.
The steady beating of your
heart. Like a tribal
drum. Lulling me to
sleep.
The sound of the three
timeless words you utter in between
tangled sheets and soft
kisses.
Iced mocha in hand
ReplyDeleteAnd my iPod blaring Green Day
I wander into the gallery
Partly out of curiosity,
But mostly to escape the heat
And drink my cold coffee in peace
But the art within this maze
of white-washed walls
Are not the placid lanscapes
Or shapeless sculptures
I had been expecting
Colors leap out from their canvas confines:
Vivid, contasting hues running wild
Junk metal splattered with paint
Has taken the form of a butterfly
I can make out the rusty bottle caps and door-hinges
Embedded in her wings
A herd of zebra run through the streets of New York City
A black and white pig
stares into the distance
The face of Jesus Christ painted on his back
I throw away my empty plastic cup
Remove my earphones
And start round the room again
I swore
ReplyDeletethat i would never let you down
that I would always be
strong.
I told you that in the midnight skies,
your dreams would come true
and that your hopes would live
on. You searched for the constellations
that made up your life
and wished upon a shooting star.
You wished for happiness,
for joy and
forgiveness. The stars twinkled
and shone, like they heard your sweet voice,
but 4 years came and went, and you’re still here.
You still wish on those stars,
you say they give you hope.
You’ve never once missed a night
where the stars shined. Even when
you were asleep, the window was open
to see the sweet lights. You never looked
at me with hate, for I told you it takes patience
to find the truth within the skies, that this universe
is big and there are many dreams
to fill. You still wish and you still wonder,
yet everyday, you magically grow
just that tiny bit stronger.
(untitled)
ReplyDeleteMine.
A word that drives spite, fire, wrath
and wrongs that are nicknamed The Right Thing.
A word she will use when his' she says she is his' too.
A word used to show, that toothpick is mine,
that piece of toast is mine,
that shoelace is not yours, but it is mine.
A word put to waste
on vague, vain, odds and ends with no worth,
then used to name one who is worth the world.
Mine.
A sound that goes hand-in-hand with 'yours' and with that hand,
will slap one who claims that she is 'yours' and you are 'hers'
for all you can be is 'mine'
Us.
A dream that fills you up,
drowns you, but if you were to reach the air and breathe in all you can
you would use that air to sigh
mine.
No Luck Today
ReplyDeleteYou tell me you have no luck
Today,
But that’s your own doing.
People say you make your own
And I know this to be true.
So nothing is going your way
Today,
But you focus on the bad.
Maybe if you looked at the good
You would see
That these cookies I have made
Today,
I made just for you.
I made them with love,
And they are good.
Beauty
ReplyDeletecomplements pass through the ear
weak unconvinced longing cling to the words
whisper them to herself
hoping they stick
beauty overwhelms him
he refrains from a thousand thoughts
no words are ever going to be enough
disbelief wears her down
she is a princess
his beauty
past toxic concepts spit at her
left small corroded holes
he fills them in
positive will and heart
hold her together
builds her up
if not for the past
she would believe