M Christine Delea's Blog, page 24

You Oughta Be in Pictures!: Creative Prompt

If you head over to today's blog poem, you will see I included a photo I took of Maya Angelou and Margaret Walker Alexander. Maya Angelou was addressing the crowd at the reception; I was too star-struck to actually ask to pose with them, or even to ask them to pose for a photo.

Not many famous people affect me this way, but those two? I was in AWE. Could not believe I was in the same room with that much talent and skill and brilliance.

Of course, there have been times when I did manage to tal...

The Struggle Staggers Us by Margaret Walker Alexander

The Struggle Staggers Us

by Margaret Walker Alexander

(Originally published in Poetry, 1938)

Our birth and death are easy hours, like sleep

and food and drink. The struggle staggers us

for bread, for pride, for simple dignity.

And this is more than fighting to exist;

more than revolt and war and human odds.

There is a journey from the me to you.

There is a journey from the you to me.

A union of the two strange worlds must be.

Ours is a struggle from a too-warm bed;

too cluttered with a pati...

Who Has The Whip-Hand Over Aimless Animals by Patricia Lockwood

Who Has The Whip-Hand Over Aimless Animals

by Patricia Lockwood

(published in Zone 3, Vol. 25, No. 2, Fall 2020)

Who has the whip-hand over aimless animals, 

and who drives them, who makes them triggers 

pulled toward each other and head-splitting sound, 

who makes them whole, who gave them single horns 

or a gore above each eye, or only fever on the forehead, 

and who holds sway over shiftless animals, who are 

within hides and without, who are bloodthirsty or wet 

as whistles with warm and...

Out, Out--by Robert Frost

Out, Out—

         by Robert Frost

 

The buzz saw snarled and rattled in the yard

And made dust and dropped stove-length sticks of wood,

Sweet-scented stuff when the breeze drew across it.

And from there those that lifted eyes could count

Five mountain ranges one behind the other

Under the sunset far into Vermont.

And the saw snarled and rattled, snarled and rattled,

As it ran light, or had to bear a load.

And nothing happened: day was all but done.

Call it a day, I wish they might have said

To ...

New Year, You Knew

This week's prompt is a little silly, but I think it may inspire some great results!

Take the words "new" and "year" and put them in your piece along with their homonyms, near rhyme companions, and whatever anagram you can make from the letters comprising "new" and "year."

You're, yea, wear, yew, knew, newt . . . there are a lot of possibilities here!

Have fun!

The picture below is from Animal Spot, a great site with lots of interesting facts about all kinds of animals. Visit them by clickin...

Things We Will Forget about Whales by Laura Budofsky Wisniewski

Things We Will Forget about Whales

by Laura Budofsky Wisniewski

(published in Canary, Issue 47, Winter 2019-2020)

How the shy ones sang only in the green lagoons of their birth,

how they swam to the last northern light,

how they spoke in the pang of our language

though they longed for the sounds of each other,

how the mothers lifted the corpses

that we would see their sorrow,

and how at the end

they forgave us

as if we would live together

in a kingdom

of blue kindess,

endless.

Turn that Frown Upside Down: Prompt

Today's poem on my blog, Home on New Year's, by Dina Ben-Lev, is a great example of the cliche "When life gives you lemons, make lemonade."

Whether Ben-Lev's poem is meant to be sincere, sarcastic, sad, sweet, or something else, it can be read many ways (which is part of its genius).

For this week's prompt, take what is generally perceived to be a a bad situation (break-up on Saint Valentine's Day, fender bender, power outage, delay at the airport, etc.) and write about its possible upsides. ...

Home on New Year's by Dina Ben-Lev

Home on New Year’s

by Dina Ben-Lev

Never mind about being alone. At least

when you need it, the bathroom’s

unoccupied. Couples won’t wander into

your closets. And you can drink champagne

casually, contemplatively, in the way of the old rich.

Click on the TV and everyone’ll be talking

too loud, blitzed on beer or nervous

in sequins. Suddenly, an aerial view of Manhattan:

streets zig-zagging with lights, like a puzzle

burning apart at the seams. If it will, let the planet crack into pieces, you’...

Windigo by Louise Erdrich

Windigo

by Louise Erdrich

(published in her collection, Jacklight, 1984, Henry Holt Publishers)

For Angela

The Windigo is a flesh-eating, wintry demon with a man buried deep inside of it. In some Chippewa stories, a young girl vanquishes this monster by forcing boiling lard down its throat, thereby releasing the human at the core of ice.

You knew I was coming for you, little one,

when the kettle jumped into the fire.

Towels flapped on the hooks,

and the dog crept off, groaning,

to the...

Candle in the Windo . . . ow: Prompt

Please read Karin Gottshall's beautiful poem, Soap, posted on my blog today.

Then, write a poem in which candles in a window are one of the images. (Or a piece of prose or a piece of visual art. You know the drill.)

Are the candles there for Christmas? Hanukkah? Kwanzaa? Any other holidays that use candles in their celebrations (there are a lot)? War? A city-wide black-out? Romance? For heat in an old cabin? Due to the power being turned off? To read surreptitiously? To signal to someone outsi...