I’ve noticed that creatives, writers especially often have trouble sleeping aren’t able to sleep. Are our brains hardwired to ignore biological functions like sleep when writing wants to happen (or when writing refuses us)? Insomnia is such a persistent and unwanted bed buddy. It just won’t take no for an answer. Even though sometimes sleep is the time when those creative thoughts are more active.
Your mission, should you choose to accept it: Write a poem that somehow defeats insomnia. It could be something soothing that would lull the unaware to sleep, like he song below by the Dandy Warhols. It could be a duel where you are fighting Insomnia to reclaim your sleeping rights.Be creative and have fun with this. If you join in this week, let us know by backlinking to this post, or posting your link the comments.
Sometimes a piece of music touches us and inspires us in amazing ways, and while sometimes we let you find your own music to inspire you, today I have chosen a piece for you.
Lukas Graham’s song, 7 Years, travels through one man’s life and through an unknown future. I love the way he marks the passage of time with certain ages and specific things that were said to him at that age:
Once I was eleven years old my daddy told me
Go get yourself a wife or you’ll be lonely
Once I was eleven years old
I will post the lyrics and video below for those that haven’t heard the song yet. I want you to let this inspire you. Think to a specific age, to your thoughts and hopes and aspirations as that age, to the advice given you then. Write about it.
Remember you have until Friday to submit your entry by either leaving it in the comment section below or linking back to this post. All entries will be considered for the second edition of the anthology.
Anthology submissions are open. Please submit here.
Write for Us submissions are also open. You can submit here for that.
7 Years by Lukas Graham
Once I was seven years old my momma told me Go make yourself some friends or you’ll be lonely Once I was seven years old
It was a big big world, but we thought we were bigger Pushing each other to the limits, we were learning quicker By eleven smoking herb and drinking burning liquor Never rich so we were out to make that steady figure
Once I was eleven years old my daddy told me Go get yourself a wife or you’ll be lonely Once I was eleven years old
I always had that dream like my daddy before me So I started writing songs, I started writing stories Something about that glory just always seemed to bore me ‘Cause only those I really love will ever really know me
Once I was 20 years old, my story got told Before the morning sun, when life was lonely Once I was 20 years old
I only see my goals, I don’t believe in failure ‘Cause I know the smallest voices, they can make it major I got my boys with me at least those in favor And if we don’t meet before I leave, I hope I’ll see you later
Once I was 20 years old, my story got told I was writing about everything, I saw before me Once I was 20 years old Soon we’ll be 30 years old, our songs have been sold We’ve traveled around the world and we’re still roaming Soon we’ll be 30 years old
I’m still learning about life My woman brought children for me So I can sing them all my songs And I can tell them stories Most of my boys are with me Some are still out seeking glory And some I had to leave behind My brother I’m still sorry
Soon I’ll be 60 years old, my daddy got 61 Remember life and then your life becomes a better one I made a man so happy when I wrote a letter once I hope my children come and visit, once or twice a month
Soon I’ll be 60 years old, will I think the world is cold Or will I have a lot of children who can warm me Soon I’ll be 60 years old Soon I’ll be 60 years old, will I think the world is cold Or will I have a lot of children who can warm me Soon I’ll be 60 years old
Once I was seven years old, momma told me Go make yourself some friends or you’ll be lonely Once I was seven years old
In the U.S. March Madness is linked to NCAA Men’s basketball. Here, we’re going to do something a little different. Let’s focus more on the madness in that phrase.
Let’s take Spring Fever to its next level.
Your mission- Write a poem about someone living through a different kind of March madness. Focus on the person losing something in life, whether it’s a relationship, a tree, a fish, etc. Write it and make your words count. Remember every post linked up here has a possibility for publication in the 2016 Anthology.
Write fearlessly, invite your friends, and happy writing!
Today is World Poetry Day, dear poets. As such, we have to participate. I think it may be the law, the law of the poem. Or not.
But let’s have fun with it anyway!
For today’s prompt, let’s try something a little different. Your prompt is to write and share, but with a twist. Write a poem about any topic. Here’s a couple of ideas in case you need one: the freshness of spring, youth, rising from the ashes, and shedding old skin. You can certainly chose others, these were only suggestions.,
Hand write these prompts and not only link them up here. Share a picture of your handwritten poem – selections will be posted on GuardianWitness, the home of user-generated content on The Guardian. You can go over and see what they’ve already posted. The
The Deadline is March 31, 2016 to send to the GuardianWitness.
If you post it here, you’d either have to link up to the a post or you’d need to type out the poem. And if they post your selection, definitely let us know!
It’ll be a fun exercise and maybe you’ll have a poem to submit to our anthology afterward. Learn a bit more about what we’re looking for here from Friday’s post.
It’s time for a new wordle! This week, I’ve taken words from one of our editor’s books, The Shaping of an Angry Black Womanby Tamara Woods. There is no set amount of words you have to use, and you can use any form of the word listed below (plural, past tense, etc.)
Here are you words:
drippings
splinters
fickle
barcode
articulate
quivering
accusing
lipstick
DNA
jail
witches
kiss
mimicry
She woke in sleek lines and snapping tendons,
eyes parting on lavender fields – this sudden
awakening was ally to the bundle of lines
there, at the corner of her mouth.
Her smile lit the edges of dark shadows
and chased with the light of our sin
any chance of absolution with this sunrise.
I buried the sunlight in the
heat that gathered at her chest and
ravaged her cheeks, until red flags
possessed her and the purity of her skin
was wiped clean by kissing lips
and sympathetic fingers…
I tripped along the image of a Robin,
that she was named for,
red-breasted as
the heat of emotion and languid
tongue rolling along her ethereal length
left her – skin glistening and shining
bright as a cherry,
and I, parting her hair and twisting each lock
like twine around my finger,
I dug a wry glimpse of the divine from under
the crinoline of her lashes where
the clear depths of her regret
were washed free with each faltering
grasp at the edge of the precipice.
She woke in sleek lines and snapping tendons,
an abrupt fall from slumber to present,
from plummeting to bursting.
Written in response to this week’s prompt: Name It. Were you able to come up with a love poem this week? Did you find inspiration in a name? Let’s see them!
The Reverie 