NaPoWriMo 2016 FPR Impromptu 23 For the Field Stone Poets

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Today’s prompt goes back once again to the Found Poetry Review’s blog, and the post by Daniel Levin Becker, who is a member of the French Oulipo group of writers and mathematicians. He gives us his variation on an Oulipo form, the petit récapitul portatif.  It’s a rather lengthy set of instructions, but actually quite straightforward as you begin to work with it. Time constraints today (income tax deadline approaching!)  meant I went with the first things that each random article suggested to me but this method definitely will be one I revisit.  You can view the full post and links to other poems here

1. The poem consists of 10 lines total, in a 3-3-3-1 stanza distribution.
2. Each line is 9 syllables long. No meter is required.
3. The lines do not rhyme.
4. After each three-line stanza comes a list, in parentheses, of three words taken from one of each of the lines in the preceding stanza.
5. The poem is dated and addressed to a specific person (someone you know or someone you don’t).

Here’s how we’ll use it:
6. This link will direct you to a Wikipedia article in English, chosen at random. (You can also click on the fifth link down on the lefthand toolbar of any article.)
7. The first line in your poem will correspond to the first random article you see, the second to the second, and so on for all ten lines.
7a. You may replace up to two of your random articles with either a new random article or an article one click away from the original.
8. You may interpret “correspond to” however you choose. You can quote the article, paraphrase it, comment on it, take impressionistic inspiration from it, or what have you.
9. You may open ten random articles at once and plan out the content of your PRP, though still observing the order in which you opened them; you may also complete each line of the poem before allowing yourself to open the next article.
10. If you so choose, hyperlink each line—or the list word taken from it—to the corresponding article.

I was surprised at how the articles for the first few searches were about people and places so close to home, starting with a French school in Ottawa. In selecting articles I did make two substitutions where they were really short stubs and going far afield from where I was going with the poem. (Croatian nobility from the 1200’s for instance).  Starting then, with Ottawa, I considered each article for how they might tie in some way to the city.  Rather than dedicate to a single person, this piece is addressed to my Ottawa poetry group, The Field Stone Poets, Sylvia Adams, Gill Foss, Glenn Kletke, (sometimes Karen Massey) and Margaret Zielinski.  (The group is led by Sylvia Adams.)

April 23, 2016

for The Field Stone Poets

 

Thirty minutes northeast, Ottawa    parliament hill ottawa
still chugs along behind the times
a government town all suits and ties

(Ottawa, times, suits)

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Parliament_Ottawa_Canada.jpg

Betrayed by their Scots-Irish patter
or, crossing the bridge, Joual patois,
locals love to hate those from away

(Scots, bridge, hate)

The Japanese Embassy shares films
white-frosted haiku beneath bonsai
smart phones set aside for an hour

(Japanese, white-frosted, smart)

Missed information spreading world-wide.

 

Carol A. Stephen
April 23, 2016

My First Driving Lesson Was Almost My Last, poem by Carol A. Stephen (LEARNING TO DRIVE Poetry and Prose Series)

My poem up today on Silver Birch Press shares the story of my first driving lesson, way way back. I swear, it’s true!

silverbirchpress's avatarSilver Birch Press

police carMy First Driving Lesson Was Almost My Last
by Carol A. Stephen

Sixteen, and legal, my dad agreed to teach me
Sunday morning early. My brother tagged along.
Safe enough, that large empty parking lot, plenty of
room for error.

I slid beneath the wheel of the Ford wagon, knees
not yet quivering, too new to know or fear horsepower.
Too new to scan the lot for lurking hazards, yet in the shade
a single parked car I didn’t see.

Give ‘er some gas, my father said. And I did.
To the floor. Never heard his voice crack before,
’til he hollered out brake— BRAKE!!! BRAKE!!!
On the third brake, I hit the gas again.

As we accelerated across the lot, one yellow car
loomed large beyond the windshield. Dad’s foot
came down heavy as an anchor as it found the right pedal.
We stopped, an inch shy of the…

View original post 217 more words

NaPoWriMo 2016 FPR Impromptu #20 NANCES, NÍSPEROS, ORANGES

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Today, I chose to go back to yesterday’s FPR prompt which I did not have time for. The prompt was devised by Travis McDonald, and involves using books from your own bookshelves as sources for a word bank compiled from 10 pages, one each from 10 books each taken from a specific location on your shelves.

The instructions are quite lengthy, so I am simply including the link to the blog post itself here: Found Poetry Review, Impromptu 21

 

To see today’s prompt from Derek Beaulieu, visit Found Poetry Review’s blog post for Day 21. Here is the summary of the prompt :

“I invite writers, musicians and performers to create digital sound performances (song, composition, collage, etc.) of my #erasingwarhol project. Posted on twitter at @erasingwarhol are the ongoing manuscript pages of my efforts to erase all the words from Andy Warhol’s 451-page 1968 novel a: a novel, leaving only the fields of punctuation and the sound-effect words. I invite you to create a sonic interpretation of any piece in that twitter feed, save it online and tweet out your results with the hashtag #erasingwarhol. This is a community-based generative project and every-one is welcome.” For the full blog post and to see links to other poems for the 21st challenge: http://www.foundpoetryreview.com/blog/impromptu-21-derek-beaulieu/

I did not find any of today’s prompts resonating, and I had wanted to give the Day 20 Decimator a try.

As I suspected, it has taken me more than seven hours to compile and whittle down the word bank. The poem itself took only a little part of that. The title comes from the poem Documentary, by Claribel Alegría, shown in the source list below. Each word in the title is the name of a variety of fruit. (The NÍSPEROS is the loquat)

 

 

NANCES, NÍSPEROS, ORANGES 

 

Peasant women, naked, wash clothing, their colours
bleed memories, hard-knuckled hands
twining tattered thread into dreams of sweet honey.

Begin sentences in your head while walking—
so crisp, perfect, fully formed.
Accidentally left behind diary of
what certainly had been.

Night calls out. Nobody answers his knock.
Inside, ghostly listeners.
His moonlight voice goes dark,
air stirred cold and waiting
an answering  cry echoing through shadow.

Foot sound upon stone,
silence surged softly backward
to the river running, to Panchimalco.

 

Carol A. Stephen
April 21, 2016

 

Loquat (Eriobotrya japonica) – Habit :Bonifaci...

Loquat (Eriobotrya japonica)(Wikipedia)

 

 

Nance (fruit of B. crassifolia)

Nance (fruit of B. crassifolia) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

Books referenced listed below. Of the 10 shown, numbers 6, 9 and 10 were not used in the poem above.

  1. The Forest for the Trees, Betsy Lerner, p. 13
  2. The Poetry Home Repair Manual, Ted Kooser
  3. The Practice of Poetry, Robin Skelton
  4. The Language of Life, Bill Moyers (Documentary, Claribel Alegría , trans. D. J. Flakoll)
  5. Women in Praise of the Sacred, Ed. Jane Hirshfield (Shu-Sin’s Ritual Bride, a Priestess of Inanna)
  6. 15 Canadian Poets x 3, ed. Gary Geddes (E. J. Pratt, From the Titanic)
  7. the Echoing Years, an anthology of poetry from Canada & Ireland, ed Ennis, Maggs & McKenzie (Jeannette C. Armstrong, Threads of Old Memory)
  8. Themes on the Journey, Reflections in Poetry ed James Barry p. 17
  9. Dear Ghosts, Tess Gallagher, (A Stroke of Sky)
  10. The Inferno of Dante, trans. Robert Pinsky P.11 Canto II)

NaPoWriMo 2016 Day 20 These Feet

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Today’s prompt from FPR is quite a time-intensive one, and one that I will tackle later. This morning I have time constraints, so I decided to work with the Poetry Super Highway challenge to write a poem of place about my feet.

 Here is the prompt:

April 20, 2016: Poetry Writing Prompt – Ellen Sander

posted April 20th, 2016

Look at your feet. Are they bare, stockinged, shod? Recall some of the places your feet have been, e.g. the beach, grandparents’ home, the stairs of a school you went to. Write a “place” poem that starts with your feet.

This poetry writing prompt submitted by Ellen Sander.

My attempt:

 

THESE OLD FEET

 

These tootsies, cushioned and cozy,
wrapped round in sheepskin slippers,
real homebodies now but oh,
the places they’ve been!

The toes remember the tan sand beaches of Georgian Bay,
white sand of Cancun, the rough broken coral in Acapulco Bay
as the wash of tides roared in, tossed shells along the beach,
then slid back to join the deeper sea.

Acapulco, the town were the telenovela is set.

Acapulco. (Wikipedia)

They’ve suffered through the many rooms of Schönbrunn Palace
and Hampton Court, feared torture in London’s ancient Tower,
rested while we sipped a brew in a pub in Portsmouth,
sat out as inlaws danced at a rustic csárda in Budapest.

Hampton Court. View of the Great Gatehouse fro...

Hampton Court. (Wikipedia)

Soles have sweltered in unforgiving sandals wandering streets of
an August Rome, then thankful for the respite of street car ride,
Piazza Venezia to the Spanish Steps, and happy too to find running shoes
from Seoul to cushion bunions every step upon St. Peter’s marble floors.

The same old dogs walked twisted alleys along Venice’s canals,
tackled the top of Hong Kong’s Peak, curled to watch the milking of a Thai snake,
compressed themselves in ice-block boots to schuss down Mogul Alley,
and they still freeze at the touch of sole to kitchen floor back home.

 

Carol A. Stephen
April 20, 2016

 

Csárda is an old Hungarian term for tavern, from which Csárdás, the name for the traditional dance was derived.