Setting: ... don't open ... don't throw away ...
Form: Free verse
i drank in whispers
carried from the moon
soon sleep took me
teardrop dreams danced
only to pooled
near my true love
Notes: When I started this blog, I set up some rules that would force me to write; I could not remember the last time I had written. Included with these rules was one that had me composing on the spot with little to no editing once published. That rule forced me to compose with fingers on keyboard and while I do enjoy this medium, paper and pencil have been my weapon of choice.
The poem I selected this week is from a prompt that came from OneStopPoetry's Friday Poetically with Brian Miller. I can't be certain (with OSP off the air now), but I believe the prompt had us take words from another source (I want to say a Shel Silverstein poem, but I could be wrong) and use them in something new and different. In order to accomplish this feat, I wrote down a slew of the words in a journal which was just itching for words to breathe life into it.
You'll notice the words are grouped by first letter. My guess is that originally I had thought I might try a poem were all (or at least most) of the words began with the same letter; it did not turn out that way in the end--as you can see. In the end I created a short little whimsical piece.
A couple of days after writing the poem above, I composed one called reunited, which spoke about...well...being reunited with my paper and pencil. I started this blog almost three years ago after a spell of not writing at all; put it all together and paper-pencil and I had not been together for at least three years. I know that some time this week I spoke about my little hiatus from here and how upon returning (in full force) I allowed my blog rules to continue to be suspended and instead created my themes as a way to inspire (continuous) writing. The other thing I took up, which started with the poem presented here is a journal full of writing.
I think that's enough babbling for today. Maybe one day I'll talk about the difference between tapping out poems with fingers and pouring out words on paper with pencil.
Artifact I: Original list...don't ask where the poem is on this page...I can't quite figure it out myself.