EXERCISE National Poetry Month 2016: April 9, 10

Discussion in 'INSPIRING MUSES' started by RiverNotch, Apr 10, 2016.

  1. Here are the two prompts, each 8 lines or more, with the same freedom-of-form. Again, one post per poem -- note which day yer poem is; and, being a month, try and catch up, any newcomers! but please, in their respective threads.

    April 9: Inspired by an occupation (ie, what do you wanna be when you grow up?)

    April 10: Write a negative poem -- a piece that defines something by what it is not. Best example, presented by the member just mercedes from the other forum, is a painting by Rene Magritte, "The Treachery of Images", spoilered below. The script translates to "This is not a pipe".
    La trahison des images (open)

    Credit where it's due; the idea and the prompts come from this site:
    Poetry Forum - - Post poetry, get feedback, give critique.
  2. April 9:


    One dusty hand reached out, caressed
    my cheek -- the other held
    offerings to be bought, gilded frames
    of some saints: Vasil fool, Sergei,
    and the painter-monk Andrei.

    This hooded figure also spoke
    in hazy voice -- and Russian. My guess:
    If only you could hear,
    far-hearted tourist, their complaints
    about this house of God turned pile of earth,
    iconostasis flushed by rain,
    and censer made bouquet,
    then how you'd weep! (or pay)
    as now I do.

    Back then, I wanted to become
    a doctor -- returning home, I laughed
    at the leprous spot below my eye.
    How young was I!
  3. April 10:


    I will not leave for Weathertown,
    will not Desire -- its spires,
    for though I like the weatherman,
    I've yet to catch -- his Lies.

    The TV and the radio,
    they never ride my wave --
    and when I search the web for rain,
    I always fail to save.

    And people -- though I took no vows,
    I comb the hermit's fill:
    my wilderness, a shuttered home,
    my hieromonk, a pill --

    for past the weatherman's vane charms,
    you chickens are a chore --
    aside from belts of blood and breast,
    this business is a bore.

    Or rather, how I dread romance --
    to Love is like a storm!
    and cities, hated opposite --
    great droughts -- past all alarm.

    No, I'll not leave for Weathertown,
    and treat the 'Self' -- applied,
    for Truth is not a gale without:
    I'd rather Live -- a child.
    #3 RiverNotch, Apr 10, 2016
    Last edited: Apr 10, 2016