M Christine Delea's Blog, page 50

Since Nine O'Clock by C.P. Cavafy

Since Nine O’Clock

by Constantine P. Cavafy

Half past twelve. Time has gone by quicklysince nine o'clock when I lit the lampand sat down here. I've been sitting without reading,without speaking. Completely alone in the house,whom could I talk to?

Since nine o'clock when I lit the lampthe shade of my young bodyhas come to haunt me, to remind me

of shut scented rooms,of past sensual pleasure; what daring pleasure.And it's also brought back to mestreets now unrecognizable,bustling nigh...

Second Person: Poetry Prompt

Read Catherine Klatzker's award-winning poem in today's other blog post.

Then, write a poem in second person.

Although you should write about something from your own life (we will get to that in a second), use the second person perspective. Many writers find it easier to write about difficult experiences by using "you" instead of "I," and the use of "you" pulls the reader in by making her/him/they a more active participant. It does not work with every piece of writing, but when it works, as it...

What It Was Like by Catherine Klatzker

What It Was Like by Catherine Klatzker

published in Split This Rock

2016, 2nd Prize in their Abortion Rights Poetry Contest

The world was always a place of silence,of congenital shame—even before those daysin 1967, four years before you met your love. Yourstrength grew belatedly, fertilized as it was in the

knowledge that you were nothing. Your life didnot matter to anyone, except to hurt you.

~

Every time you awake in your hospital bed

men in white ...

The Tool Shed by Kasey Jueds

The Tool Shed

by Kasey Jueds

published in Superstition Review

How can I explain the way

I kept coming back—to that box

of trapped shadows with its concrete

floor, its constant chill even

on the most blazing August days. To

the stacked cans of paint with their stuck-shut lids

like the eyes of animals burrowed

in the farthest reach of forest. To the locked-in

air trembling, dense with the chemicals

that fumed from ancient bottles of pesticides & herbicides

lining the cinderblock walls, e...

The Heat Is On: Poetry Prompt

With climate change making our weather less hospitable and a heat wave roasting much of the planet, heat is on my mind. And it is the focus of this week's writing prompt.

Write about heat in any of its forms/meanings; below are some suggestions to get you started.

heat, as in passion

Heat Wave: A Social Autopsy of Disaster in Chicago by Eric Klinenberg

heat and some of its slant and near rhymes: heart, hear, hare, head, heaven, heavy, heal,

heap, heath, heave, health, hearse

"Heat Wave" by Ma...

Four Definitions For the Use of Time by Carolyn Moore

Four Definitions For the Use of Time

by Carolyn Moore

published in Cider Press Review

1

Your book club neighbor chats across the fence

of marginalia you’d feel rude to halt.

You’re late for the doctor’s bad news redefining

late as good. (Here, time as minutes saved

before the clock’s face and hands tic with fear.)

2

Our dead forget all of their favorite colors

but not how we felt when our red wine stained

their table’s open grain. (Time as rebuke,

selective as trout hungry for nymphs,

a...

Moths & Origami Children by Ojo Taiye

Moths & Origami Children

by Ojo Taiye

published in Whale Road Review, Winter 2018

i taste my mother’s sicknessin my mouth & analyzethe spittle: (grief lies foldedin a woman’s hand)what we’ve left behindcan be disturbing can i touch your throat?a pile of daylight composedof many meaningsnames emerge from the centreof each thing love. butterfly fields of daisies. mother blood. moths are burning mid-flight &...

Master of Disaster: Poetry Prompt

Disasters happen daily, but unless they are especially horrific, international, or deadly, we might not hear about them. In our online world, we can certainly find out about disasters that happen on "smaller scales" elsewhere in the world, or past disasters that may be largely forgotten these days.

Choose a disaster from the list below (or use as inspiration one you know about) and write a poem about it. There are many choices as far as perspective--someone who survived but was a victim, a firs...

The Man-Moth by Elizabeth Bishop

The Man Moth

by Elizabeth Bishop

published in The Complete Poems, 1926-1979

Man-Moth: Newspaper misprint for “mammoth.”Here, above,cracks in the buildings are filled with battered moonlight.The whole shadow of Man is only as big as his hat.It lies at his feet like a circle for a doll to stand on,and he makes an inverted pin, the point magnetized to the moon.He does not see the moon; he observes only her vast properties,feeling the queer light on his hands, neither warm nor cold,o...

The Empty Pool by Sue Ellen Thompson

The Empty Pool

by Sue Ellen Thompson

published in The Summerset Review, Spring 2010

This is the place where my sisters and I

lay all afternoon on plastic rafts,

too listless to shift our weight

or direct our idle drifting. At the click

of the gate, we'd lift our heads

as if from our sickbeds, and there

our mother would be: white shorts,

white shirt, hair fading to gray,

with a tray of cold drinks and sandwiches.

This is the place where, on a hot June day

five summers ago, I pulled myself

fr...