In the woods I am grateful for
the rocking of the hammock
the lullaby of the wind
the mobile of light through leaves
I am grateful for quiet foot-
steps on the pine path
I am grateful for the chance
to listen
***
Writing exercise: Write a poem using a repetitive phrase, e.g., “I am joyful when…” “I think of you when…”
Start by listing as many things to finish the sentence as you possibly can. When you run out of ideas, think of at least 10 more. Then see what you’ve got to work with.
Poetry. Cliché.
Engagement. Broken.
Watercolor. Amateurish.
Sales. Bungled.
Singing. Off-key.
With all due respect to Yoda,
Try, try again.
***
Writing exercise: This poem was triggered by an exercise in Kim Addonizio’s book Ordinary Genius. Start with a title (she suggested this one as well as many others), and write a poem. My writing group added another constraint: 20 minutes.
Et voilá! Well, not quite so easy…
My initial attempt started out very prosy, describing two types of failure: 1) failure to accomplish something you attempted, and 2) failure that comes from not trying at all. Immediately Yoda’s quote came to mind: Do or do not; there is no try. And I kind of wanted to start an argument with him!
My thinking shifted to examples: When had I made an attempt that failed but did not deserve to be abandoned? A prosaic list.
Knowing my time was short (panic!), I asked myself how I could make my existing ideas more impactful. I stripped down the dull sentences into Noun. Adjective. and added the last line to juxtapose Yoda’s quote with the old maxim “If at first you don’t succeed…”
Ding!
Speed exercises may not turn out world-class poetry (although you may surprise yourself), but they sure get your brain going. One of my writing partners–not a poet–came up with a fabulous poem with vivid imagery that even included a solid (not simplistic) rhyme scheme. Another writing partner created the beginnings of a fabulous essay about who defines what failure is–I can’t wait to see the polished version.
Now that I’ve spent more time describing the process than I did writing the poem…back to your regularly scheduled programming!
inlaid ivory
the school-board member wandered aimlessly backstage
mumbling to himself about schoolteachers’ resourcefulness
suspecting the motley educators alternately of
embezzled francs and deceptive reorganization
he squinted, hissed, they’re slier than ever
their broadside attack exacerbating complaints
about their previously peaceful system
upsetting the ecology of the budget
the newscaster waved him onstage
his shoes clack-clack-clacked
it was time for the toga to come off
And with the random words in bold…
inlaid ivory
the school-board member wandered aimlessly backstage
mumbling to himself about schoolteachers’ resourcefulness
suspecting the motley educators alternately of
embezzled francs and deceptive reorganization
he squinted, hissed, they’re slier than ever
their broadside attack exacerbating complaints
about their previously peaceful system
upsetting the ecology of the budget
the newscaster waved him onstage
his shoes clack-clack-clacked
it was time for the toga to come off
A great creative exercise is to write a poem using words from a random word generator. (Here’s the one I used.) I asked it for 20 random nouns, verbs, adjectives and adverbs, all of which were “common,” “average” or “somewhat uncommon.” I managed to use 18 of the 20 words in my poem.
Escape velocity
I shagged one idiot after another in college,
sequentially working my way through the academic territories,
eying English, art, math, chemistry majors.
The lustiest were the rocket scientists,
ready to redeploy quickly (if unevenly),
magnetized, baffled by the attention
of an unplugged musician,
a silly guest whose scrawled notes
contrasted with their ordered formulas.
Plus, their roommates were chafed.
Variation: Set a time limit of 10, 15 or 20 minutes. This forces your brain to make quick associations. It’s especially fun to do this exercise in a group and see what different approach each person takes to using as many words as possible. I did not time myself on this poem, but spent probably 30 minutes on the whole exercise.
In case you’re curious about my word list, the poem appears again below, with my random words in bold. (I didn’t use “ethically” or “clipping.”)
Escape velocity
I shagged one idiot after another in college,
sequentially working my way through the academic territories,
eying English, art, math, chemistry majors.
The lustiest were the rocket scientists,
ready to redeploy quickly (if unevenly),
magnetized, baffled by the attention
of an unplugged musician,
a silly guest whose scrawled notes
contrasted with their ordered formulas.
Plus, their roommates were chafed.
A final note: Be careful not to read too much into these poems–being outrageous is part of the fun. 🙂
Karin S. Wiberg 