November 2008 | Poefusion

11.30.2008

Monday Mural

Monday Mural will feature a picture/ artwork for you to lend your words (poem or story) each Monday. I want you to ask yourself what images are provoked here? What words would you use to define this picture? If you choose to write for Monday Mural please leave your comments below. Hope to see you around.

Abandoned by Can't Think of a Name was originally uploaded to DeviantArt. Pictured is Bennett College located in Millbrook, NY.

11.29.2008

Nove Otto

The nove otto poetic form was created by Scott J. Alcorn. It's a nine-lined poem with eight syllables and a rhyme scheme of aacbbcddc.

Here's an example:

Tiptoes

Her balance begins on tiptoes.
Bare feet, hard floor dictate her prose.
She wanders Mammaw's living room.
One foot, left foot, right- look at her
Causing Papaw's blackbird a stir.
She pirouette's to her own tune.
In unperfected time and style
She crosses her stage with a smile-
This growing, six year old, fleshplume.

11.27.2008

Friday 5

Friday 5 is a collection of five words which can be found each week (middle column) on this page and inside this post. If you choose to write a poem or story with these words please leave your comment below. I hope everyone can find the same inspiration with Friday 5 as they do with 3WW. Hope to see you around and don't forget to post your comments below. Have a nice day.

Friday 5

sculpture
gesso
plain
woozy
jumble

11.26.2008

Tuesday Title

Create a poem from the title word Poepelganger. Who's you're poet alter ego? Today I was reading an article on Beyonce Knowles' new album I Am... Sasha Fierce. It's about a pop star's doppelganger. In the music world their called poppelgangers. This gave me the idea to use poepelganger for all those poets out their using an identity other than their own. If you don't have a poepelganger have fun creating one with today's prompt. Enjoy. Sorry this one was late. Come back every Tuesday for more title prompts.

11.23.2008

Monday Mural

11.20.2008

Friday 5

11.19.2008

Trial by Fire

movie Trial by Fire
date 1995
poem The Buck in the Snow
author Edna St.
Vincent Millay

The Buck in the Snow by Edna St. Vincent Millay can be found in its entirety below. Lines used in the movie are in bold.

The Buck in the Snow

I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the
hard ground.
So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind:
Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned
With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned.

Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you.
Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust.
A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew,
A formula, a phrase remains, - but the rest is lost.

The answer quick and keen, the honest look, the laughter,
the love,-
They are gone. They have gone to feed the roses. Elegant
and curled
Is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom. I know. But I do
not approve.
More precious was the light in your eyes than all roses in
the world.

Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave
Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;
Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.
I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.

Here On Earth

movie Here On Earth
date 2000
poem Birches
author Robert Frost

Birches by Robert Frost can be found in its entirety below. Lines used in the movie are in bold.

Birches

When I see birches bend to left and right
Across the lines of straighter darker trees,
I like to think some boy's been swinging them.
But swinging doesn't bend them down to stay.
Ice-storms do that. Often you must have seen them
Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning
After a rain. They click upon themselves
As the breeze rises, and turn many-colored
As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel.
Soon the sun's warmth makes them shed crystal shells
Shattering and avalanching on the snow-crust--
Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away
You'd think the inner dome of heaven had fallen.
They are dragged to the withered bracken by the load,
And they seem not to break; though once they are bowed
So low for long, they never right themselves:
You may see their trunks arching in the woods
Years afterwards, trailing their leaves on the ground
Like girls on hands and knees that throw their hair
Before them over their heads to dry in the sun.
But I was going to say when Truth broke in
With all her matter-of-fact about the ice-storm
(Now am I free to be poetical?)
I should prefer to have some boy bend them
As he went out and in to fetch the cows--
Some boy too far from town to learn baseball,
Whose only play was what he found himself,
Summer or winter, and could play alone.
One by one he subdued his father's trees
By riding them down over and over again
Until he took the stiffness out of them,
And not one but hung limp, not one was left
For him to conquer. He learned all there was
To learn about not launching out too soon
And so not carrying the tree away
Clear to the ground. He always kept his poise
To the top branches, climbing carefully
With the same pains you use to fill a cup
Up to the brim, and even above the brim.
Then he flung outward, feet first, with a swish,
Kicking his way down through the air to the ground.
So was I once myself a swinger of birches.
And so I dream of going back to be.
It's when I'm weary of considerations,
And life is too much like a pathless wood
Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs
Broken across it, and one eye is weeping
From a twig's having lashed across it open.
I'd like to get away from earth awhile
And then come back to it and begin over.
May no fate willfully misunderstand me
And half grant what I wish and snatch me away
Not to return. Earth's the right place for love:
I don't know where it's likely to go better.
I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree,
And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk
Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,
But dipped its top and set me down again.
That would be good both going and coming back.
One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.

Desperate Housewives

show Desperate Housewives
episode We're So Happy You're So Happy
date 2008
poem The Lover Tells of
the Rose In His Heart
author William Butler Yeats

The Lover Tells of the Rose In His Heart by William Butler Yeats can be found in its entirety below.

The Lover Tells of the Rose in His Heart

All things uncomely and broken, all things worn out and old,
The cry of a child by the roadway, the creak of a lumbering cart,
The heavy steps of the ploughman, splashing the wintry mould,
Are wronging your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart.

The wrong of unshapely things is a wrong too great to be told;
I hunger to build them anew and sit on a green knoll apart,
With the earth and the sky and the water, re-made, like a casket of gold
For my dreams of your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart.

11.18.2008

Tuesday Title

Create a poem from the title Salty Moon. Come back every Tuesday for more title prompts.

11.16.2008

Monday Mural

11.15.2008

Poefusion

Poefusion #21

Create a poetic form. When you've finished leave a comment below. Happy creating~

11.13.2008

Friday 5

11.11.2008

Tuesday Title

Create a poem from the title Unchained Roads. Come back every Tuesday for more title prompts.

11.09.2008

Monday Mural

Monday Mural will feature a picture/ artwork for you to lend your words (poem or story) each Monday. I want you to ask yourself what images are provoked here? What words would you use to define this picture? If you choose to write for Monday Mural please leave your comments below. Hope to see you around.

Trash or Treasure by Karen Garrett was originally uploaded to Flickr by JoWiJo. The pictured artwork was created with fiberglass, cardboard and resin.

11.08.2008

Lest We Forget

Lest we forget
The valley is humming with
One hundred hummingbirds
Pressing their wings
Against fruitful air.
Their long, tenuous bills
Dipping into the
Red music of burning glass;
A league of sugared, red droplets
Shattered upon thirsty tongues.

Written for Saturday Scribes and Tuesday Title.

11.06.2008

Friday 5

11.04.2008

Tuesday Title

Create a poem using the title Red Music of Burning Glass. Come back every Tuesday for more title prompts.

11.03.2008

Monday Poetry Train

One... Two
Poetry Train is comin' for you.

Three... Four
Hop aboard!

Five... Six
No. 2 is your fix.

Seven... Eight
I believe this will be great.

Nine... Ten
What are you waitin' for? Let's begin.

Tugga, Tugga, Choo, Choo...

Hope you enjoyed this lighthearted poem I wrote for Monday Poetry Train.

11.02.2008

Monday Mural

Monday Mural will feature a picture/ artwork for you to lend your words (poem or story) each Monday. I want you to ask yourself what images are provoked here? What words would you use to define this picture? If you choose to write for Monday Mural please leave your comments below. Hope to see you around.

The House of the Window Who Played the Piano VI from Severine Cousot aka Sey 9's was originally uploaded to Flickr. The picture is from an abandoned house in France. I chose this picture as a Monday Mural because I took piano lessons as a child and still like playing occassionally.

11.01.2008

Papercuts

What are you reading? Share your book title, author name and a brief description about what you are reading. My hope is that Poefusionists can find that next great read. I've quietly slipped this in a bit late. I am sorry for the delay.

Triquain

The triquain is a poem created by Shelley A. Cephas with several variances and can be rhyming or non rhyming. The simplest form being 7 lines with 3, 6, 9, 12, 9, 6 and 3 syllables. Demonstrated is the simplest form. Here's a link for more information on the variances.

Example coming soon