30PD = 11-11-08 (#15)

scuffed, beaten, scraped
the color of battered pewter
its miniature screen
illuminates
"1 New Txt Msg"
my little courier
my link to you.

- Write a poem that follows the three rules of the imagists. -

<3 = brittany

30PD = 11-9-08 (#14)

sleeping
sleeping
I hear nothing
from within my coma.
shake me
try to wake me
nothing works
nothing can make me
get up.
I'm not happy
but I find it easier
sleeping
and
sleeping

comatose.

- Write a poem that uses at least two different forms of repetition. -

<3 = brittany

30PD = 11-1-08 (#13)

Where do you write?
At home, wherever I happen to be sitting.

What tools do you use?
Either pen and paper or my computer, my thesaurus, and usually I have music playing.

When do you write?
Whenever the mood strikes, but usually near the end of the day.

How long are your sessions?
Meh, it depends. And I really don't pay attention, but anywhere from a half hour to an hour.

How do you choose your subjects?
I write about events in my life, I write about things I see, I sometimes try to imagine other characters with different voices, and I sometimes make stuff up.

How do you prepare?
Usually I just sit down and go, but sometimes I'll read other people's poetry or my own old stuff.

What writing methods do you use?
Just write the poem.

How do you edit or revise?
I reread the poem and look for errors or parts that could be better but I don’t spend too long on it the first time. I've been going back and working old poems though, and I spend a while on those.

I hadn't realized
He shook his head
True emotion can be disguised.

The smiling faces were stylized
Masks to cover the sneers unsaid
I hadn't realized.

I was always despised
Because I struggled and bled
True emotion can be disguised.

They had me downsized
And sent me to bed
I hadn't realized.

They pretended to keep me apprised
But made sure that I always misread
True emotion can be disguised.

A lie was devised
To keep them ahead
I hadn't realized
True emotion can be disguised.

- Today is a two-part assignment. The first part is to think about your method of writing poetry. The second part is to shake up your process. If you have a lot of structure, try loosening up. If you write very loosely, try adding some structure to the process. I wrote a villanelle. It was hard. D: -

<3 = brittany

30PD = 11-1-08 (#12)

Cinquain (2, 4, 6, 8, 2)
Miss you
Bring me back there
to the place I can hold
you and tell you "I love you too"
at home.

Tanka (5, 7, 5, 7, 7)
Shadows slink across
The room, obscuring my sight.
Is someone there? Hey-
Get out of here! I stumble
To the light, flip the switch.
But there is nothing.

- Write a poem using syllabic verse. Oh, and I modified my tanka a little by adding a 5-syllable line to the end. -

<3 = brittany

30PD = 10-29-08 (#11)

a wo,rd
caused by
a stuckck key
I suppose.

- Write a poem that addresses some of the same subject / style / tone of the poet you dislike. I absolutely hate Aram Saroyan's poem, "lighght" Because that's all it is. lighght. GAH. Anyhow, I did two today to try and get myself back on track. -

<3

30PD = 10-29-08 (#10)

Friends, why must I look into your eyes
To find something I should already know?

You want me to be there for you
But when I need, you suddenly disavow

Me and leave me standing,
wating for you to ultimately no-show.

You blow if off and say, "It's okay,
Brittany. You didn't want us anyhow."

- So I've been stuck for a while because the prompt was "Write a formal, structured poem." And we all know I have a really hard time with that. So I cheated a little. I wrote this as a quick write for Creative Writing, it's a ghazal. So here you go. I don't really like it, but eh. -

<3

30PD = 10-16-08 (#9)

You turn to dust as you read the page,
Yellowed and torn from the years it spent
Stuffed in the cracks of the couch. Still it keeps
Murmuring, "This is the day you will
Die at the hands of a carpet man."


- Write a poem using a specific meter. I used dactylic trimeter (read it like a waltz, you'll hear it. DUM-da-da, DUM-da-da...). This is pretty much a nonsense poem. Think of it like "Trio for Two Cats and a Trombone" by Dame Edith Sitwell. -

<3 = brittany

30PD = 10-14-08 (#8)

Alas! To all the fish I had in childhood,
Flounder and Mr. Fishy and Sharky and many others
whose names I cannot remember.
You taught me of death,
although not correctly,
I believed death was
flushed down a toilet and
swimming to the sea.

I write of you because of my poor dear Bianca,
the sole bowl companion of Lorenzo
(who still lives, but lonely now),
who passed away so recently
at the hands of my little brother.

To all the goldfish I ever had:
I hope the sea is beautiful
send a postcard back to me.

- Write an elegy about a person or event that is meaningful to you. -

<3 = brittany

30PD = 10-13-08 (#7)

the crushed nose of a paper plane
the orbiting wheel of a fallen bicycle
paper torn by over-erasure
or marked black with scribbled-out phrases
a cassette tape spewing mahogany ribbon
dirty dishes sticking to each other
only pried apart with broken fingernails
78 cents when you really need 83
blurry photographs
smudged lines
clichés

fail.

- Write a list poem. I'm trying to keep up wherever I can. D: -

<3 = brittany

30PD = 10-9-08 (#6)

I am tired.
all this quarrel
all this squabble
the parrots' squawking attempts
at song.

I can't discern
the issues at hand
nonsensical twaddle
is all I can find.

double standards
and hypocrisy.

I am tired.
all these feuds
all these rows
the crows' raucous efforts
at harmony.

- I've been busy, but here's #6. A poem written after short meditation. -

<3 = brittany

30PD = 9-30-08 (#5)

I am old,
I have lived here for ages
watched this little village
turn into a thriving town.
I was here long before that tinny little train
and the defiant graffiti on the walls.

I am old,
I have my coffee every morning
my bones creaking as loudly as my house.
I do not go to work
I do not work
not anymore.
I survive on the little pension I get
buy bread milk a bit of meat.

I don't mind
really.

I am old,
but I am alive.
and I am content.

- Write a persona poem. The photo is one I found on Flickr. Here.-

<3 = brittany

30PD = 9-29-08 (#4)

the bench is hard
cold as a morgue slab
an elegant building rises before me
with bricks the color of Crayola
mac & cheese

behind me, the gardens
Greek columns mark the entrance
to a place holding grasping the
last gauzy threads of summer

bright flowers
sweet smelling carpet
the splash of a mini waterfall
hidden in the jungle
a few crazy birds are awake in this chill
chirping and flapping and
hoping that winter is a silly legend.

I shiver
and hope so too.

- Write about a place with detail and imagery. I sat outside the Hinckley building the other day. -

<3 = brittany

30PD = 9-28-08 (#3)

I watch with an apathetic eye
nothing I see affects my heart
it's the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow.
votes - no win - protest - deaths - fire - ecofriendly
never changes.

I don't know if I should feel bad
about this. if I should feel guilty
for not caring.

I suppose I'm just desensitized.

- Find a news or opinion article that was published on the web this week. -

<3 = brittany

30PD = 9-27-08 (#2)

I've been struggling to stay awake
for the past three hours
but something you say
wakes me up

I have Parkinson's. you say
that's why I can't sit still

you surprised me.

"I was told it wasn't so much
a trial for myself as it is for
my family and my friends."

I cannot believe the strength
you exude. my mind is
successfully boggled.
and I wish I could be

a lot more like you.

- Write about an event in your life that happened within the past week. This happened at church last Sunday. -

<3 = brittany

30PD = 9-26-08 (#1)

hey, hey, wait--
where are you going?
hey, are you--
are you not talking to me?

I petered out, stood there
on the four-square court
and gaped as you sauntered away.
the two of you, so smug, so sure.

snubbed. that what it's called.
that was the first time I realized
what was going on.

- So I found this site, Poewar.com (it's kind of like a writer's resource site), and it has a challenge called 30 Poems in 30 Days. They give a prompt each day, and you write on it. The first day was "Write a poem about your childhood." So expect another tomorrow night, I suppose. :D (I consider this one 9-26-08, even though it's 2 in the morning. D: -

<3 = brittany

save a cow, eat a vegetarian

(This is for my creative writing class. I liked it, so... why not stick it here? :D)

Save a cow, eat a vegetarian. I chuckle at the bumper sticker on the window of a dingy yellow VW bug. It's one of the old Beetles, engine in the trunk, you know. It also seems to have contracted some sort of skin disease, because raw, dark orange splotches cover its body. One eye is blind, cracked beyond repair, and the poor Bug is even missing a few teeth, it seems.

The interior doesn't look much better. Seems like this bug has seen plenty of late-night parties. The yellowed foam of the seat cushions shows through like ulcers, and the rest of the upholstery is faded and dingy.

I pop open the front passenger door and breathe in the smell of stale gasoline and old french fries. On the floor is a mass of papers and books, lying as still as dead moths.

I find an old McDonald's bag with the refuse of a value menu meal inside. The wrapper from a Double Cheese, a medium size fry carton.

After a little bit of riffling through the mess, I find a pair of soccer cleats and shin guards, grass-stained and worn like old friends. Inexplicably, they make me smile, and I replace them carefully in the place I found them.

I am not surprised to find an overripe banana on the dashboard. It is still mostly yellow, but riddled with brown measles.

But the last thing makes me laugh. An old wooden oar. It is short, only four feet in length. It is weathered and smooth, as if it is simply driftwood disguised as a paddle. I cannot imagine why this car would house a tool it will never use.

I pull myself out of the microcosm of a college student and close the door with a hollow slam. I turn away from the car and see someone coming straight toward me and the old car.

He is blonde, with shaggy curls and a bright smile. He wears a simple t-shirt with a chic, weathered logo on the front. His jeans are stylishly manufactured to look as vintage as his shirt. His backpack is slung over one lean shoulder, and he holds a half-eaten apple in one hand.

With a grin and a chomp on the apple, he asks, "You like Big Rhonda?"

- This was a lot of fun to write, and as I go back over it, I see a lot of the things in the car came from real things I always had in cars. The car is named after Michael's late car Rhonda, who always had a mess on the floor. And the oar was something I had in my truck for the longest time. So this was just an exercise in imagery for my creative writing. -

<3 = brittany

tying the knot

wait --
wait a minute.
here I am,
watching you dance with
your husband
of all people.
I want to cry
because you're so happy.
I'm happy for you
but it's still hard
to wrap my head around it.

you smile, you laugh
as you dance
the boot scootin' boogie
the macarena
numa numa
with the single girls.
but you look like a swan
in a flock of ugly ducklings.
you're beautiful.

you toss your bouquet
and I watch it, an indoor firework
red, orange, yellow
love, excitement, friendship.
I have to catch it.
I have to.

so I jump with all I've got
it's in my hand
and in two other hands.
I pull it away, ecstatic.
I lose love
but I keep orange and yellow.

and I watch my swan fly away.

- One of my best friends of three years or so just got married last week. It hit me hard, I guess, because it's just one of those things you don't expect to happen so soon. She was absolutely gorgeous and completely overjoyed, and it made me excited for my own wedding (which will be about a billion years in the future), and yeah, I caught the bouquet. Which was pretty hardcore. -

<3 = brittany

10:37 PM

why are you crying?
they didn't leave you on purpose.
they thought you were working, for heaven's sakes
geez, you're always overreacting
always crying on the phone
hoping they'll apologize and promise to come pick you up.
stop it.
that's why they never bring you along.
buck up.

-Vent poetry. Not worth anything. Just making me feel better.-

Don't Dream Too Far

you didn't say my name.


you didn't say my name.


my stomach drops out
and all I can do is stare
at this stupid blue script in my hands.
I want to cry
I want to scream
I stand up, can't feel my legs.
I want to get out of here.
someone grabs my arm,
watches me with pleading eyes
it's my best friend, but I walk away.
I give the script to the assistant director
I didn't want it anyway, right?
I feel like everyone is watching me,
pitying me.
don't do this to me.
I make it out of the auditorium,
and the tears finally come.
I get to the bathroom, wipe them away.
I have to go back.
he's watching my face,
looks like he wants to tell me something.
and then my best friend's arms
are around me.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."
me too.
I'm sorry I dream too far.

-Post-audition.-

<|3 = brittany

Give Me a Chance

who are you to say I can't do it?
who am I to listen to you?
I know I can.
I want to.
just give me this chance
I can take it and run.
I can take it and FLY.
I've flown before
felt that rush, that thrill
of the wind beneath my wings.
EVERYONE DESERVES A CHANCE.
isn't that what you preach?
practice what you preach.
give me a chance.
nothing can bring me down.

-Pre-Audition.-

<|3 = brittany

Fear

we haven't "hung out" for a long time.
but through certain circumstances, we've
ended up in this line, waiting for this ride.
I look up, terrified
by what I see up there
calliope, top 40, and screams
fill my ears
I don't want to be here.
I'm practically shaking
as I stare at this monster
but then your hand is on my shoulder.
I look away from the beast
and into your smiling eyes.
"hey, you're gonna be okay."
I shake my head fervently,
then look up again.
gently, you pull my face away.
"don't look."
you squeeze me into you.
it hits me in this moment.
I watch you, wide-eyed and silent
I remember how I believe in your smile
and I realize that I've missed you.
laughing, you say,
"what are you so afraid of?"
I said I didn't know
at least, not about the ride.
but I know what I am afraid of.

losing you.

-This is old, from last summer, when the band went to Lagoon. My best friend and I were able to spend the day together, something we hadn't done for a very long time.-

<3 = brittany